His mother tongue is Maad, and he, too, reminisced about the moments when his language thrived in songs sung by women during festivals and fairs. In my search for solace, I stumbled upon a comment by Prabhat, a Hindi poet from Rajasthan. Oh, how I yearn to join them in the pursuit of artistic expression! They effortlessly weave words that paint vivid pictures of our cultural heritage, leaving me in awe of their talent. Sometimes, jealousy creeps into my heart when I see my friends Yusuf, Suresh, and Ghar Sangi delving into the world of Patni poetry. My heart aches for the ability to create in the language that resonates with the very core of my being. We have made do with neighboring languages or Hindi film songs, but it is not the same. In our community, we have no traditional folk songs in Patni to draw inspiration from.
It is a language of deep complexity, its texture intricately woven, yet I find myself unable to express my thoughts and emotions through its poetic form. I long to write in my Mother Tongue, Patni, the language that flows through the veins of my ancestors and carries the essence of Lahaul-Spiti. But there is a lament within me, a sorrow that tugs at my soul. My name is Ajey, and I am a poet born in this picturesque region, where the air is crisp and the beauty of nature takes my breath away. As I sit here in the embrace of Lahaul-Spiti's majestic mountains, a heavy burden weighs upon my heart.
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