A caged summer in the heaven of the earth

In the middle of the summer last year I was able to put all my thinking into how and why the things were so uncertain in our region.

A single of a militant, locked down the whole State for five long months, a little bit history for the readers here.

I am writing from a place that has been inflicted by more than a two decade long conflict, that has wounded thousand, kills lakhs and continues to do the same on both the sides of the line (LOC), India and Pakistan, and our state falls on the fault time so we have to bear the brunt of tensions between these two nations.

It was a just like other summer days in June and our month long fasting had ended a day ago the whole city was in festivity mode, and was up for some holidays ahead.

On the evening of 8th July, police in a joint operation killed a leader of a militant outfit, sensing the effects of their action the government immediately announced curfew throughout the state.

In any given conflict as they say ‘one man’s terrorist is another man’ freedom fighter’, so the common people sympathized with the deceased and there was mass reaction that outburst the next morning. People marching on the streets, offering prayers in absentia and anger, this thing needed to be brought under control, so curfew seemed the best was for the government to maintain calm.

Anger was pouring from very street, property damaged, sloganeering, was all that occupied the day. In an attempt to bring things under control, police resorted to firing, lathicharge, pellet, pepper gas which increased the number of injured and within no time hospitals ran short of beds for the victims.

ON the other hand moment was curtailed down, by not allowing people to venture outside their houses, even not for buying food, medicines or milk.

This seize continued for five-months, the State of Kashmir witnessed one of the longest hartaal (shut down) in its history.

Live was thrown out of gear, with no schools, colleges, offices nothing. Deserted roads, with stones rolling on, only saw the movement of men in uniform either police or paramedics rest were jailed in their homes.

Life had suddenly stopped and the whole state had seized to function. Who doubts the uncertainty of life but the uncertainty of our region has remained static since the onset of an armed struggle in the region.

The number of deaths and injured would increase with every passing day; there were continuous round of bouts between the police and the angry youth that amplified the tension in the region.

It was true for border areas, the city center and remote villages; a wave of anger among the masses against the government was widespread and came up with loss of life, property and faith in the regime.

History was repeating itself; there was yet again a mass agitation that was in control of no one. Braving bullets, pellets and tear gases people were uncontrollable, as the use of forces increased anger increased manifolds.

It was the summer I spend inside, because streets were no longer safe. In my life I had never seen such a disarray, sitting ideal at home waiting for news to come from any corner was the only thing that kept me busy the whole day.

Soon internet, mobile phones were barred from working and the uncertainty snowballed with rumors flowing for everywhere.

It was a traumatizing phase, but I did manage to do a few stories amid all of this, yet I was not able to perform my journalistic duties to the fullest sometimes dues to moment restriction, sometimes due to the internet and sometimes due to lack of connectivity.

Everyone was guessing that the phase was going to end sooner or later but as the situation grew tense with each passing day, and restrictions tighter hopes vanished too.

People worked according to calendars that gave a little breather.

The separatist working in the state took this opportunity, to give this mass agitation a direction and came up with schedule or popularly known as calendars, that had chalked out a long and systemic schedule for people to follow. After maintaining a day’s shutdown, it gave few hours to the people to fetch essential commodities: angry people had no choice but to follow it.

The scene at a nearby by grocery store at the deal hours was like-Everyone was shouting, the owner was confused with looking out at the police then packing things for the customers and then again looking up, he had a fear that was evident on his face.

It looked like it was the last time to buy things, markets were literally flooded, but the markets were short of goods, people had to manage in whatever was available at the shops.

One would not dare to venture outside in the curfew hours, because no one knew whether a pellet or a bullet was awaiting you in the streets.

Some people were killed or injured right inside their homes. So death was the cheapest things those days.

I remember I had to go for a story, I had to leave at 3.30 in the morning in order to reach there and back only after 6 in the evening when the curfew was relaxed, in the meantime no one was allowed to venture out.

I had seen darker times over past two decades but it was the longest of all and I saw death so closely.

I visited a few local hospitals, I could see young children, boys and girls hit in the eye waiting for their turn to get treatment, but their number was huge.

Deaths continued, so did blinding, our five months long shutdown ended in December, but justice is eluded.

The summer ended with tears in our eyes, memories of our loved ones, injured children and bruised hearts.

I don’t know how long it will take to understand that lives matter even in the remotest place like ours.

I can still hear women wailing, gun shorts, slogans, bruised faces, it will even escape my memory-never.

---The End---