Srinagar hunches like a wild cat: lonely sentries, wretched in bunkers at the city’s bridges, far from their homes in the plains, licensed to kill . . . while the Jhelum flows under them, sometimes with a dismembered body. On Zero Bridge the jeeps rush by. The candles go out as travelers, unable to light up the velvet Void.What is the blesséd word? Mandelstam gives no clue. One day the Kashmiris will pronounce that word truly for the first time.
-Agha Shahid Ali
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