flower on a wire

As the summer’s first sun blazed through the sky, the chill that had stubbornly permeated the valley

gave some lease to its golden foe. Flowers that had so far shied away so far, now shook their tender

sapling and friends into awakening. They had begun to come out to see if the winter’s coat was lifted

or if another trickery was being played.

The winters are cruel in this part of the world, whether nature’s adversity is considered or man’s

traversity, this vale is a cup of sorrow filled with tales to tell. This is Kashmir and this photograph

shows a solitary flower on one of its innumerable fences that dots its façade. A single resolute

flower, which if properly categorized would probably have to make do under the categorisation of

some kind of a weed, the most common type of flower to find. It’s the first flower of spring, first

perhaps because of its tenacity and hope that there is still a better world outside and its worthwhile

to come out rather that perish underground.

The courage that is needed to break the final few millimetres of the top soil , the courage to take a

chance that winters are finally gone and gone for good, the courage to blossom amongst the bullets,

bloods and the rusted iron. That is what this simple flower symbolises.

Living in the very heart of Kashmir where thousands of saplings have been crushed under the

merciless cavalcade of bodies being carried to their graves, this flower perhaps represents the

collective conscience of the place where it drew from and it wants to give living another chance.

To finally let go of the ghosts of winter, this is a photograph of the first flower of Kashmir. This is a

flower on the wire.