Meet Mudasir Rehman Dar, the first creative Artist from Jammu and Kashmir, awarded in the Asia India Book of Records, famous for making the world's smallest painting of Holy Khabba on a ring stone leaf and pencil lead. He is best known as an artist and well-known painter, famous for his unique style of creative Abstract paintings. He hails from South Kashmir's Kulpora Village of Kulgam district in Jammu and Kashmir and his art gives a social message. This young, creative artist is well known for creative abstract paintings and portraits and has been carving for platform to display his talent, despite winning several awards at mega stages. The artist states that since his childhood, he was naturally attracted towards the art. "I used to make paintings with different messages. I usually tried to focus on social evils, through my artwork like an addict, child labor and other social injustices besides ongoing conflict," he said, adding that "this artwork is giving me peace of mind." He said: "So far, I have won so many awards at national, state and district levels, besides dozens of certificates." And, getting entries in Asian and Indian book of records is acknowledgement of work which creates true happiness to show his real talent. He is receiving appreciation because of his art at different mega stages, yet the support which he needs to continue his artwork from government, is nowhere in sight. Kashmiri youth are talented but they lack platforms where they can show their talent and government must look into it seriously. It is pertinent to mention here, that Mudasir is a God gifted talent who has created the world's smallest painting of the Holy Kabbah on a ring stone leaf and pencil lead. Truly, this artist we have found, through his paintings and portraits, each, tell a story of life in Kashmir and so much more. Below, Artist Mudasir Rehman Dar shares his paintings. "My art always gives a social message." - Artist Mudasir Rehman Dar Check out the slideshow below, we have added another photo of the artist and more paintings... A Kanger, [ka-gir], also known as kangri, kangid or kangir, is an earthen pot woven around with wicker, and filled with hot embers, used by Kashmiris beneath their traditional clothing pheran to keep the chill at bay, which is also regarded as a work of art and can be viewed on the artist's Instagram and Facebook pages.

By: Safdar Bhatti My very heart bleeds for you Your forlorn cries oppress My brimming breast to break Into dirge, a mournful dirge, Oh! the cruelty, Imposed on beings by their own kind In the sacred land All hold holy, Which religion teaches sacrilege? Bloodshed, cruelty, disorder? Which religion teaches hatred? Greed and imperial oppression? Then why all this hiss Of the Serpent bent To turn the vein of Humanity blue Peace, the soul of society, Let it flourish the world around Terrified angels be consoled With the treat of brotherly love.

Soft show. A classy tiff. They both sit... wearing glasses and blue T-Shirts...The conversation starts between them... Wilde: There are many attractive women in this circus - and I have been unable to take my eyes off them, only them for the past few jiffies, not a cheesy pick-up line, you know, I crave to smooch and leave them as hearts are made to be broken. Shaw: I don't wish to answer this. I am forlorn, Wilde, I have tried not to be. We both have been married so long, just remember, those who cannot change their minds, can't change anything, and I am sure if you commit it, you will grieve it, tomorrow. Wilde: Okay, you are not letting me and you know this makes me talk more; maybe that is good for you, but to live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all, is good for me. We have been spending time together, lunches, meetings, that kind of stuff...don't you even feel to be my decent buddy? Shaw: I can't believe it, that is just not something you desire to marry or love every woman. The world doesn't move like this. Beware of false knowledge. It is more dangerous than ignorance. You are a good writer, you should know it by yourself, alas! How can your mind think to sleep with other women? Oh God, it is the worst thing I have ever observed from your countenance, Wilde. Wilde: You are crazy, and you always will be, you are the only one who discovers instantly what is on my face. In faces, I reckon this may have made you uneasy. That is very nice of you to say because a good friend will always stab you in the front. Keep it up, you are going to match my genius very soon. Really great, Shaw, seriously. Shaw: Ooh, I understand, can I give you the word of advice? (Wilde - yes). Success does not consist in never making mistakes, but in never making the same one, a second time. In your life, you have been seduced by many women, and at times, you couldn't even decide what is best for you. Now leave this all behind, and use a glass mirror to see your faces and use works of art to see your soul, you will uncover something, a fresh realm of solace. My way of joking is, to tell the truth. Wilde: Shaw, I am not young enough to know this. But, I know this, one shouldn't start a conversation like this, with someone who doesn't belong to and you are the instance. We know, experience is simply the name we give our mistakes. So, let's end it, and relish the show of Chris Rock who reveals many entertainment shows like acrobats, trained animals, musicians, dancers, hoopers, tightrope walkers, jugglers, magicians, unicyclists, etc. Shaw: Well, Wilde, they both are: 'Thank you for'; that is why I say, life isn't about finding yourself, life is about creating yourself. So this time, I should go with you, let's be quiet and relish it. Watch and notice their actions. Both are now silently watching the show... © Adi Adnan Author's Bio: Adi is a poet, writer, columnist, translator, Ghazal writer, motivational speaker, blogger and reviewer from Tral, Kashmir (J&K). He has contributed his poems to various reputed magazines and journals. He has also published his poetry book, "Tears Fall in my Heart." In 2020, Adi was awarded by Gujarat Sahitya Academy, for poetry. In 2021, he was awarded the Shakespear medal for his literary merit, writing quality, uniqueness, and creativity. Furthermore, he has won the 2021 best achiever award in the field of English Literature as the title, 'Best English Poet.'

VISUAL ART 'Acrylic Impasto 1.1' Painting by Amitabh Mitra 'Coast' - Painting by Amitabh Mitra ‘Sandy Dunes 002.1' Painting by Amitabh Mitra ‘Acrylic on Canvas 2' Painting by Amitabh Mitra 'Free State 1' Painting by Amitabh Mitra 'Huzrat Kothi' Painting by Amitabh Mitra 'Acrylic on Paper Using a Palette' Painting by Amitabh Mitra 'Wild Coast Cintsa 3' Painting by Amitabh Mitra A charcoal portrait (above) of Cecilia Makiwane © November 7, 2016, sketched by Dr. Amitabh Mitra, is of the first black registered nurse in apartheid South Africa. Amitabh's portrait is on permanent display at Cape Town by the University of Cape Town. Dr. Amitabh Mitra is a trauma surgeon at Cecilia Makiwane Hospital in Mdantsane, Eastern Cape. You can read more about Cecilia Makiwane Hospital and view Dr. Mitra's portrait on the Wikipedia website at: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cecilia_Makiwane_Hospital Above, a charcoal portrait, sketched by Dr. Amitabh Mitra, © December 8, 2014, of Dr. Neil Aggett, the first white doctor tortured and killed by the apartheid regime, can also be viewed on Wikipedia. The inquest is still continuing. Dr. Mitra's charcoal portrait was presented to alma mater, The Kingswood College, for the museum. You can read more about Dr. Neil Aggett and view Dr. Mitra's portrait on the Wikipedia website at: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neil_Aggett Moosa Moolla (born in 1934), is an Indian South African Anti-apartheid activist, leader and diplomat. The charcoal portrait (above) is sketched by Dr. Amitabh Mitra © July 25, 2919. You can read more about Moosa Moolla and view Dr. Mitra's portrait on the Wikipedia website at: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moosa_Moolla Charcoal Portrait on Paper, of Ahmed Timol, by Dr. Amitabh Mitra © July 30, 2019. Ahmed Timol was a teacher, known for anti-apartheid activism. You can read more about him and view Dr. Mitra's portrait on the Wikipedia website at: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ahmed_Timol Amitabh Mitra Bio Amitabh Mitra is a poet, artist, publisher and a medical doctor. A widely published poet in the web and print, Amitabh has held many exhibitions of his poetry art. 'A Slow Train to Gwalior' is a CD of his ten most popular love poems recited against a background of Indian and African traditional music. A documentary film incorporating his love poems is being produced in South Africa. His website below: https://www.amitabhmitra.com

I want to be the son of nature For deep wounds, not going back to my doctor. This doctor, putting the outside of my worldview. I have to respect him. I should run away of him and search for my soul. I want to rise up to the same tree, but for shadow like roots, put myself inside ground for steaming smell of soil around. Not working, fog in mountain with "Shimshal"* melody, not be a mixture of cloud. What's a profit of wind? If he's not boring, dance inside eyes. Don't put Leaves drunkenness on the path of rivers. But wind, is a traditional musical instrument God, playing our words and put it on a melody line. Wind born on a burp of air instead smell, he was busy with buzzing. He ran behind the soil, hanged himself with a claw: for the love of steam. Before we came, was busy pairing. He brought three girls into the world: snow, hail and rain. Rain, so softly umbrellaed: Stone liked to melt underneath it. Until the human came to the world: Learn from it and avoid cruelty. When he saw the hail, He's more far away from the soul. But snow, with all this softness He can't calm down our stupidity. I want to be the son of nature. When I was blind, put a drop of rain inside my eyes. When I was injured, wrap my wounds with leaves. When my hand is broken, grafting a stick of a tree from me, so that my writing can be re-greening. When my hair is falling, plant a mint on my head, so that instead of sweat, it will spread, smell good. When my hearing deafens, take me to the sea, put two seashells for me, and at least, it will move waves to me. So that I will not be the son of nature, when the basil goes back to the mint tribe. Mentha pulegium, who anyone doesn't eat freshly, when he gets old, his height will rise as old man, drying same old "Mentha pulegium." Come on, let's be in nature, spreading peace! © Written by Peshawa Kakayi Qaladze, Kurdistan Region of Iraq Translated to English by Dlovan Ali *Shimshal: A Kurdish cultural musical instrument. Type of a flute. BIO: Peshawa Kakayi, was born on April 19, 1984, in Qaladze, Kurdistan region of Iraq. He graduated from the Political Science Department of the University of Sulaimaniyah. He writes in many literary appendixes in Kurdistan. He has published eight books of poetry, written in Kurdish. * Residue of Breaths: Poetry Collection © 2008 * I am, I Guard Flowers, Poems © 2011 * Garden - Your Love Poetry © 2015 * From the House of Aunt Khunche, I Went to Saeed's Son-in-law (Open Text) © 2017 * American Letter with the Taste of Poetry (Poetry, Prose, Narration) © 2018 * Cosmology (Poetry) © 2019 * Rebuilding the Light on the Return of Zoroastrian i Ahmed Mala (Investigation) © 2020

Gently, the snow was falling and the village road frosted with sweet whiteness. The plum trees, the icicles were freezing. The spring water had become a garden of ice, the blue vase had been cracked. The white beard man, the snow landscape was catching his eye and he was singing a winter chant and the admirable snowman with his soft arms kept a fire burning and figs were boiling in a pot. The white smoke of the fireplaces was rising up from the madhouse's chimneys and the children had white dreams. Shivering sparrows in cold were cuddling together under the eaves the snowflakes like butterfly, were gently fluttering to the ground. © Diyar Latif Translator: Daliya Raouf Diyar Latif came to life in 1989. He is a poet, journalist, writer, Peshmerga, as well as an activist, and works in literary meetings. He is a resident at the Town of Kfri, in the Iraqi Kurdistan region. The works in each of the (Plastic Land) books are poems. He has published a literary research book titled, 'Title and Text.' His last published book in in partnership with a literary meeting titled, 'Modern Poetry and Some Margins.'

© Written by Imtiyaz Pandow Here I bring you A tale of my burning home from this dreary paradise where peace is no where in the whirling shades of this incompatibility. Being its dwellers means to fall prey to its expected uncertainties either become the victims or firsthand witnesses of these uncertainties. We are left in a despair only to scribble the epitaphs over the gravestones and sing the elegies to mourn in a grief of those falling flowers, Who in their tender age are being forced to leave for the heavenly abode Whose blood soaked bodies are tomorrow's witnesses of today's brutalities. Imtiyaz Pandow is from Budgam, Kashmir and is a postgraduate in Journalism and Mass Communication. He is a Web Content Editor on ILA Magazine. He has worked with several local and national media organizations. He is interested in poetry and fiction and his poetry has been featured by several outlets. The author can be contacted at: imtiyaz@ilamagazine.net

Here, we will feature two of his poems, mentions of his published books and a review of his poem, 'Everything Returns Back', written by ILA Founder, Annette Nasser and published in his English Poetry Anthology, 'Sillage.' LIVE IN THE MOMENT Living life of humans is a virtue that is to be earned, if we sideline our past and futuristic aspect is slightly turned. We can't at the same time, dwell in past, present and future. Our whole life however, is based on structure. Living in the moment is easier to say than to adopt in reality, however, its urgency is felt every time for our suitability. Too much of indulgence in thinking about past deeds, pulls us backward and hampers to meet our present needs. Past should not come on the way of present as obstacles, on the ashes of past should stand the present day miracles. Future is always uncertain like the Monsoon in Indian subcontinent, it always feeds us with new recipes of hopes and discontentment. © Dr. Alok Kumar Ray .............................................. POURING OF RAIN Each time rain comes to rejuvenate me and drenches in ecstasy, Nostalgic feelings hover in my mind to generate fantasy; It makes me spellbound when I hear its rhythmic sound, Like an old wine, it intoxicates me stealing my ground. It's lovely, soothing like a devotional song that I always admire, Its pitter patter sound releases my captivated aspire; Kindles, ignites in me, long forgotten virgin fire, Scintillating, alluring, helps to come out from despair. It relieves me from all sorts of mundane tensions, Embedded feelings in me get wings to fly in unison, Chilling effects, I feel when cool breeze blows; Pangs of pain decimate; my innersole glows. My cosy wishes dance with rhythmic sound of rain, Like butterflies, they hover here and there to sustain. That earthy smell mesmerizes me and I become restless, Pouring rain droplets thrill me and kills my fatigue - the mess. Each time rain brings for me heavenly blessings, why I don't know. But I am sure the whole rainy season keeps my emotions in tow. © Dr. Alok Kumar Ray 'SILLAGE' - Permeating Salubrious Odour Poetic Motifs by Dr. Alok Kumar Ray. Sillage can be found on Google Play and published by Sankalp Publications The author can be reached at: alokray1966@gmail.com An International Anthology of Poems: Trouvaille - A Medley of Poetic Beads.... Compiled and Edited by Dr. Alok Kumar Ray Review of Dr. Alok Kumar Ray's poem, 'Everything Returns Back' by Annette Nasser, Founder of ILA Magazine and ILA Magazine group, USA and published in the author's book, 'SILLAGE', pages 105-108, and can be viewed above, in the 'slideshow.' EVERYTHING RETURNS BACK Everything is reciprocal Be it relationship or fellowship, Sow the seed of love to reap crops of friendship. Harsh words pierce in the heart like a sharp knife, Occasional cool breeze in summer rejuvenates life. Life and let live others even if be in hardship, Newton's third law relies on this equity partnership. All of us are tied with the thread of humanity, Diversity among us is not a curse to maintain unity. We all are humans though are of myriad kinds, Disparities among us are natural That cannot block our strides. Variety is the essence of life That cannot be undermined, With ebullient emotions of fellow feelings We are entwined. Everything returns back whether good deeds or bad, Mitigating woes of others shields us against sad. Earth cherishes different Races, languages, faiths and cultures, It's like a garden where Flowers of different varieties dance in rapture. © Dr. Alok Kumar Ray Review of Dr. Kumar's Poem: The poet states, "everything is reciprocal whether relationship or friendship", and with this, should also be, cooperation and understanding in balance and awareness of values, morals, respect of other cultures, traditions, philosophies, professions, creativities and principles of growth, within this same process, applying to friendship. He writes with an open mind and heart, through words and actions, that we can overcome just about anything, with spiritual strength and conviction, with positive attitudes and with simple acts of kindness and generosity, by spreading and scattering seeds of love the world over, circulating for the purpose of growth, joining hands of different nations, dispersing and connecting, setting into motion, initiating trust, respect, faith, into something worthy of friendship. The more giving you are by sowing seeds of love, the greater the abundance in receiving, even in friendship. His insightful thoughts by loving others the way we would like to be loved, will also multiply too, in friendship. By sowing love in giving toward others, making the most of your relationship, by learning and giving as much as you can, you will also reap the crops of friendship. What you give out of the goodness of your heart, you will also reap in return. He writes that even in hardship, we must learn to live together in unity. We must be able to trust ourselves and believe in our capabilities and abilities as well as others. We, as individuals, should accept the way others live, breathe and behave, because everyone does things differently in their own way. We must strive to throw light upon existential ambiguities with more certainty and clarity to be accepting others in tolerance, to be open minded, to be respectful and nonjudgmental and to try and live in harmony with others. As the poet states, even in Newton's third law, relies on this 'equity of partnership', the third law states for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction, ubiquitous in everyday life, whether in contact, interaction or actions, we are all connected through the threads of humanity, one common thread that unites us all, regardless of race, religion or culture. There will always be some groups in our society that will try to bring the world down by various cults and groups of hatred, cursing unity and humanity. Diversity is a positive influence, a wide range melange of people, regardless of differences and culture, benevolent of human kindness, passing down from generation to generation, in belief, language, values, encompassing multitudes of ethnicities and race, respect of heritage, through understanding varying prospective with room to learn from one another, whether through new experiences or ways of thinking, to a manifold of languages and traditions. The poet reminds us, 'we are all humans though of myriad kinds', countless entities, a League of Nations in grand multitude, the greatest natural influence, and as much as some groups may try to penetrate that decisive step aimed at progress, in the end, that same path we walk, we march in medley, for 'variety is the spice of life', with exuberant buoyancy and sentiment, of 'fellow feelings', interwoven together. The poet confirms in his own insightfulness, that karma returns whether good or bad, mitigating circumstances of others protects us from depression and sadness, we should feel so cherished and joyous, knowing that earth's different ethnicities, language and cultures, celebrate with intense expressions of elation and enthusiasm, much like a 'garden of different varieties and color' because at the end of the day, it is this multitude of culture, our way of living, our language, beliefs, our strength and empowerment in society, we are diversely united. It is a pleasure reviewing your poem, Dr. Alok Kumar Ray, as it will stick to me like glue and I will no doubt, go back and read it countless times, so expressive and so impressive, it truly touched my heart and soul. Annette Nasser Founder ILA Magazine USA ........................................ BIO: Dr. Alok Kumar Ray belongs to Kendrapara District of Odisha, India. He obtained his M.A., M. Phil and Ph.D degrees from Utkal University, Bhubaneswar, Odisha. He now works as a Senior Lecturer in Political Science in a Degree College affiliated to Utkal University and getting grants - in - aid Govt. from Department of Higher Education, Gov't of Odisha. He is a textbook writer and has authored books being taught in Universities within Odisha as well as Dibrugarh University, Assam in India. He has edited three books containing scholastic articles in Social Sciences. Dr. Alok Kumar Ray is a bilingual poet and writes in both Odia and English. His poems have been featured in a number of anthologies, magazines and newspapers across the globe. Poetry for Dr. Alok Kumar Ray, is a passion and he is deeply obsessed with this creative endeavor. He posts poems regularly to a number of online poetry groups and takes part in online poetry writing contests. Many times he has been adjudged as well as been awarded in poetry groups across various states and nations. Kabikanya Smruti Parishad, Talcher, Odisha had adjudicated Dr. Ray for the Kabikanya Ashes Award in 2019. In the year, 2020, LASOSYASYON LAR SAN FRONTYER, an International literary and art society, recognized by the Gov't. of Republic of Seychelles and affiliated to Motivational Strips, awarded an Order of Mahatma Medal, a Tribute to Mahatma Gandhi, an Award for Peace and Literary Conduct, to him. Recently, his debut English poetry anthology, "Sillage", was published, along with an international edited bilingual poetry anthology, 'Trouvaille" and his debut Odia Poetry Anthology, "Meghapanata" (the veil of rain), has been launched. Apart from writing poetry, he is also interested in social work, gardening and traveling. He is a life member of the International Red Cross Society and has also worked with Rotary International.

Written by Imtiyaz Pandow From predawn to dusk, an empty stomach of long fasts. The remembrance of Creator for all. The empathetic approach toward humanity. The donation of Sadqa and Zakat. The endless recitation of holiest verses of Holy Quran. The wait for Iftaari to break the fast with fresh dates and fruits, with soul-cooling elixir of Rooh Afza and milk-soaked seeds of Basil. The countless blessings of Lailat-ul-Qadr, of Sahoor and Iftari, of everyday and last Friday. This practice of being consistent for every good deed keep burning the sins, so ash-less! As no traces left behind. O' the Illuminator of hearts, We seek your guidance. O' the most Merciful! We seek your mercy. O' the Most Forgiver! We seek your forgiveness. © Imtiyaz Pandow Imtiyaz Pandow is from Budgam, Kashmir, a postgraduate in Journalism and Mass Communication. He has worked with several local and national media organizations. Imtiyaz is interested in poetry and fiction. He is also the Web Content Editor of ILA Magazine. Image of Poet and Web Content Editor, Imtiyaz Pandow

GUEST Yes, the lane was the same, but there was no presence of the naked fakir on the pavement, looking at nothing and occasionally crying out ALLAH-HU. I saw a uniformed shadow, peering through a bunker. Had my fakir exchanged places with him? Did he too, feel a threat and hid himself? I did not see the house of my neighbors, who had a pomegranate tree in their compound. The big gate, open to all, was missing. The half-burnt window reminded me of my parents. Winding deodar staircase were ashes. Drawing room with its Persian carpets and rung and colorful bolsters, which had hosted guests, was untraceable. My idols of faith were there but they were on the road like pebbles. there were new names, new faces, new roads, new walls and new gods. I was like a guest in my own land. © Professor Indu Kilam Professor Indu Kilam taught English in various colleges of Jammu and Kashmir, for more than 3 decades, and retired as Associate Professor from MAM post-graduate college from Jammu. A translator and a social activist, she has been working for the cause of women and children. She has to her credit, the translation of Ms. Naseem Shafaie's Sahitya Academy award winning collection of poems, 'Neither a Shadow a Reflection'. She has also translated a number of Dogri poems. Holding a brilliant academic record, she has a Masters in English and a degree in Law, and has been living in Jammu since 1990. Her poems are nostalgic and she moves with ease from the past to the present, penning memories with a delicate touch, making all, beautifully poignant.

I AM FINE My cheeks have started to hurt from the smiles I wear all day, trying to hide the cuts and scars that threaten to peek out, every time. Someone asks me how I'm doing. My eyes have grown tired of holding all the secrets inside, ready to spill out every piece of the scattered mess that I am, as tears or blood, when I run out of my "I'm fine" lies, someday. Everyday I hope for someone to pull my mask away, and stare right at the core, where I sit curled up into a ball, in the corner of my mind, trying to get away from my own thoughts and feelings. Everyday, I hope for someone to tear through the pretense around me, find me inside, hold my hand and, take me away, to some place far. but every night, when I'm still there, alone, I hug myself, cradle my soul, and go back to sleep, with the screams and shrieks as my lullabies. © Summiaya Nilofer Kichloo

FOR EVERY DREAM I am in the fields for every dream shattered under the weight of traditions and every freedom shackled by chains of customs. For every sister traded for her brother's honor and every mother abandoned and abused for the birth of a girl child. For every bride tortured and burned alive for the dearth of dowry and every daughter deemed less worthy of education and inheritance. For every child whose books exchanged with henna and every wife whose autonomy was buried with the vows of her marriage. For every woman, called names and judged impure, because her body fell prey to your lust, shall rise a generation with anger in their eyes, anger, that does not forgive, that does not forget, that does not breed years of generated trauma. A generation of gallant men and women, who are not afraid with the idea of equality. A generation of women who do not need men to define their worth and beauty, who are not slaves to the notions of centuries, who are not silenced by fear or consolation, who breed children that fight for a world where men and women walk on the same road not as subservients and masters, but as equals and worthy, with might and dignity and grace, that God created them as worthy and beautiful. © Summiaya Nilofer Kichloo