Cultural heritage of Kashmir

Kashmiri Painting by Sana Parveen

Acrylic on canvas by Sana Parveen

Song written by Abdul Ahad Nazim (1807-65) also known as Waiz Shah Nur-ud-din

yim zar vanahas bardar,
karsana su yar boze? 

 ya tui khanjar ta mare
na ta sani shabha roze,
(At his threshold my wailing I would utter, O when will my love listen to me? I would that he did slay me, Or else requite my love)

mas dyutnam kalavalan
chivaravnas akiy pyalan
chum duri ruzith zalan
karsana dava soze
(The brewer of love gave me a cup of wine, A single cup made me delirious and drunken,
I could not contain myself for joy; But now he keeps off and causes me pain – O when will he give me another draught of the wine of love?)

kya mati goy myon kinay
atish bortham sinay
ashakh kamisana dinay
marun rava roze
(Love, why are you angry with me?
You have filled my breast with the smart of love.
Is it fair to let me suffer and die? )

bithith khalvath khanas
mushtakh panay panas
ashakh manz varanas
mashokh tanha roze
(Alone, in a lonely tower, the beloved sits, unconcerned for love; while the lover roams desolate plains, Will the beloved keep aloof from him?)

bulbul bihith ba gul
mushtakh az gul bilkul
nay rozi bulbul ta nay gul
akh lola kathah roze
( The bulbul nestles close to the rose, Doting in it and deep in love; soon the bulbul and the roses die, only a memory of love remains. )

kya mati karitham sitam!
Nizam chu praran yitam
chus tashna darshun ditam,
yi dam na pagah roze
(How cruel you have been to me! Athirst for love, I am waiting for you O come and show yourself – This hour won’t last, tomorrow brings another day)



All way lead to Pangong!

Well with Ladakh, once is insufficient, twice is insufficient, a whole lifetime is insufficient. Ladakh is the stuff dreams are made of. Street excursions can never be the same again, after a tryst with this stunning land parcel set in high sky!


Feel Good to paint one of the most Beautiful scanrios- Pangong Lake

The greater part of us who have been sufficiently blessed to go to Ladakh would’ve gone to the fantasy like yet absolutely genuine Pangong Lake. We would’ve crossed the quite often snow clad strong Chang La and would’ve savored that some tea and the warm welcome from the Indian Army on. We would’ve step by step slid into the Changthang just to have our heart skirt a beat at the primary sight of an electric blue strip and would’ve said a noiseless supplication trusting Pagal Nallah wouldn’t turn insane before the day’s over.