Part 33

The moment I finished dialing, the phone at the other end started ringing. My heart began pounding against my chest as I handed over the phone to Babuji. My eyes were following his each and every expression.

“Hello, may I speak to Mr. Suri, I am calling from Srinagar?’ I had no clue as to who it was Babuji was talking to.

“Good Morning, Suri Sahab, my name is  Raj Nath Magazine, I think you know my son ,Kishen Lal? My heartbeats went haywire.

“I am fine. There is something important I want to talk to you about” Silence.

“I want to talk to you about your daughter, whatever her…yes, Anita.” I looked towards Amma , who was still standing at the door, not knowing what was going on, a look of complete bewilderment on her face.

“Yes I know. I want to congratulate you on the auspicious occasion of the engagement of your daughter. I am sure you have met my grandson Lalit, haven’t you?” My heartbeats started sprinting. I watched Babuji closely. So far his expression had not changed and he was talking in a very soft and polite tone. Suddenly he turned red in the face.

“What has that got to do with my son?” The voice had become louder, the tone a little harsher. I held my breath.

“Lalit will never stoop so low, I know my grandson very well” What had Anita’s father said that had made Babuji say this?

“Letters, what letters are you talking about? I  don’t know  anything about any letters” So Mr. Suri must have asked Babuji that I should return the letters Anita had written to me.

“Who said anything about ruining your daughter’s life? Why should he or anyone else want to ruin it?” I could see or feel Babuji’s temper rising.

“You are talking nonsense, Mr. Suri. Lalit wants to stop you from ruining your own daughter’s life. You seem to be well aware of the fact that your daughter wants to marry my grandson, then why are you doing something which will make her life miserable?” The fireworks had begun. I was wondering what Mr. Suri had said and would say after this. I wished I had some way of listening to what was being said at the other end. I could only make a guess from Babuji’s remarks.

“Do you really think so?” Think what? Babuji’s voice had become a little softer; I had no idea, why?

“Ah, I see, you seem to be an intelligent person, Suri Sahab!” There was appreciation in the words but not in the manner Babuji uttered them. All this time I had not moved an inch from the place where I was standing.

“Now will you keep quiet for a moment and listen to me? Stop this marriage and stop it immediately otherwise I will have to take drastic action. I swear by my grandson, I will not hesitate to do what I have never done before, I swear by my grandson I shall not let this marriage take place and let me tell you this is the first time in my life, I have sworn by my son and you can well imagine what that means for me but you won’t understand because you don’t know the meaning of fatherly love, all you seem to be worried about is getting rid of your daughter as quickly as possible. Do you really hate her so much? Of course, I forgot that in your Punjabi society daughters are thought of as a burden and the faster they are bundled out of their homes the better it is for you people. Don’t interrupt me; let me complete what I want to say. In Kashmiri society, we do not treat daughters as commodities. We let them complete their studies, let them make their careers if they want to and then take a decision on their marriage, do you really know how precious a daughter is to her parents, particularly her father?”

 This monologue had become a long one and it I found it strange that Suri Sahab had listened to all this without saying anything. He was not the kind of person to show so this kind of decency, that too when he was being provoked to the extreme. Babuji had not only treated him like dirt but had also spoken in a very angry voice. I looked at Babuji’s face, his face had become redder than before and his hands were trembling. I started becoming apprehensive. Babuji rarely lost his cool and since he was hypertensive, anger was certainly not good for his health. I glanced at Amma and there was a look of serious concern on her face but she did not intervene. When the babujis of this world are in this sort of a mood, wisdom demands that you keep your mouth shut. That is what I did and that is what Amma was doing even though both of us wanted Babuji to calm down. I was thinking of what was to come next; it occurred to me that Babuji had used the word marriage, but it was supposed to be an engagement not a marriage! A wave of panic rushed through me. Was it possible that the marriage would take place soon after the engagement? I wanted to say something but how could I? There was complete silence for some time. It was now Babuji’s turn to listen to whatever Suri Sahab was saying.

“Should I tell you what I am planning to do?” Babuji’s voice once again resounded in the room. “I am going to put Lalit on the next flight to Chandigarh. I will send a police officer along with him so that you don’t try to harm my grandson in any way. I know you are perfectly capable of doing that, Listen to me first, will you?” But this time Suri Sahab did not keep quiet and Babuji was the one who had to do the listening .

“Yes of course, you are most welcome to have a security cover around your house, do whatever you want to do; you will never succeed in your nefarious designs. I hope you are aware of your beloved daughter’s age, I am sure you must be unless of course you are not responsible for her birth” Oh my God, what was Babuji saying? It was impossible for me to believe that Babuji could use such language! Amma was gaping at him open mouthed but she did not dare  say anything. By now she must have understood what the matter was all about and she had already begun giving me strange looks.

“My dear Mr. Suri, I think you know your daughter is no longer a minor and I think  you also have a fair bit of knowledge of the law, if not much. Lalit and Anita are both adults and none of us can force them to marry against their wishes. Lalit will come to your place, your daughter will come with him and no police force in the world can stop her, am I making myself clear, dear father of a dear daughter or do I need to be more explicit?”

What was all this going on? I was completely stunned. Not even in my wildest dreams had I thought that events would come to such a pass! And, above all, Babuji, talking in this manner?  I simply refused to believe it, although everything was taking place right in front of me. Kashmiri society was as conservative as any other neighbouring society. Love marriages were still frowned upon. If a boy and a girl fell in love, the first reaction of the parents was to oppose such a relationship and the most vociferous opponents were the grandparents and the grand uncles. It was only when the couple fought and fought hard that the family gave in. Here I was witnessing a scene, where the boy was not even prepared for a fight but his grandfather was going out full blast to make it possible for him to marry the girl he loved! My respect for Babuji increased manifold. I don’t think any parent or a grandparent would have taken the kind of stand which Babuji was taking. But I was unable to make any sense of what Babuji was telling Suri Sahib. It just didn’t sound realistic; it looked like a scene from a movie. I was very fond of movies and had witnessed many a melodramatic sequence but nothing to beat this!

“One thing more, Mr. Suri, I have booked an air ticket in the name of Anita on tomorrow’s morning flight from Chandigarh to Srinagar. She will come here and get married to Lalit and the whole ceremony will take place with our blessings, I can book a ticket for you also, if you want to attend their wedding, should I?” Babuji seemed to be enjoying himself now; he looked at me, smiled and winked at the same time. He even had time to give Amma a re-assuring look. The way Babuji was behaving, it was evident that he thought he had achieved some kind of a victory in this war of words. The conversation had not come  to an end as yet. Babuji was listening to whatever Suri Sahab was saying, but he was completely relaxed now. His face had returned to its normal colour and his hands were no longer shaking. I also felt that a huge burden had been lifted off my shoulders. All this was fine but if one looked at it as an outsider, nothing had really been attained. An exchange of words had taken place, some impractical threats had been made but practically, nothing had changed, things stood exactly as they had before Babuji had started talking to Suri Sahab. So what was I feeling happy about? What had changed in the last half an hour that had made me feel like rejoicing? Yes, one major event had taken place. I had seen  a very important facet of Babuji’s personality, a facet  which he had never revealed earlier. At that time I thought Babuji was the greatest person on this planet.

“Will you say that again?” Babuji’s words brought me out of my contemplative state.

“Did you say that Anita wants to talk to Lalit and you have no objections to that?”

‘Bittuji, Anita wants to talk to you, her father has given her the permission, don’t be afraid” I turned towards Amma and she nodded her head. I took the receiver from Babuji or rather Babuji handed it over to me. My emotions were all mixed up. There was nervousness but not without some confidence. There was relief but not without some tension. There was joy but not without some fear.

“Hello”, I tried to keep my voice as low as possible. I expected Anita to say something but all I heard were her uncontrollable sobs. Was she sobbing out of joy, were these tears of happiness or was there something fishy going on?

“What Happened?” I waited for her to stop crying and answer my question.

   

Who is she,Part 32

Part 32

The sun had come out and Babuji asked Khalid to serve the tea in the lawn. This was the first time I was having a look at my favourite playing ground. Many of my memories were associated with this lawn. It had not changed much, it was well maintained, the grass was green, and there were hardly any grayish patches. It was evident that Babuji had not lost any of his old enthusiasm for gardening.

“Who looks after the lawn now, Babuji?”

“Khalid and me, who else is there? I enjoy gardening and it also keeps me busy so I don’t feel the need of getting any outside help” Khalid came with the tea and said that he was going out to get milk and curd. We sipped our tea and both of us had a lot on our minds. I was wondering what the consequences of my action would be. I knew I had taken a huge risk and that too in a state of overpowering emotion. My feelings for my grandparents had clouded my reason or had they? I was aware I had left Anita to deal with her own problems but did I have any other alternative? Babuji was a practical man but a man with a soft heart, the only thing was he did not wear his emotions on his sleeve. No matter what he might have said about my going back, I knew he was happy at what I had done, for himself and more so for Amma. He was deeply attached to his wife but he kept his feelings well within control.

“Bittuji, what will you have for lunch? I want to make something special for you today” While we were having tea, Amma had come out and joined us.

“Anything you like Amma, you know my choice very well”

“Then I am going to make gogji suen, I know you love it” Gogji meant turnips and suen was generally used for mutton. This was a combination which all non Kashmiris thought was a strange one. Kashmiris are fond of mutton. Every Kashmiri family had mutton, at least once a day. I recalled the old days when we were kids and the house used to be full of people. Buying mutton for a household of nearly thirty people was an expensive proposition. The cooking was done with a lot of gravy and we were served lots of gravy and our share of mutton would be just one small piece. The male elders would get the lion’s share and the women folk had to be satisfied with whatever was left, which, at times, could be only gravy.

“Aren’t you worried about your career?” Babuji suddenly asked me.

“There’s nothing to worry about. I know I will get a good job. What’s the hurry?” Babuji simply nodded his head.

“By the way, who was the girl who rang you up that night?” The question caught me completely by surprise; I thought Babuji had forgotten all about it.

“Just a friend, Babuji, she used to study with me”

“But why ring up so late in the night; she could have called you up the next morning?”

“Ohh, she wanted to know whether I had reached Srinagar. Friends can also get worried, Babuji, can’t they?”

“Don’t you have any male friends?”

“Of course I have, most of my friends are males”

“Why wasn’t anyone of them worried about you, why only this girl?”

“The others must also have been worried but they didn’t have my Srinagar number”

“I see, you gave this number to a girl but forgot to give it to the others, Right?” This inquisition of sorts had started making me nervous. I was running out of false answers.

“I didn’t forget, Babuji, the fact was that this girl asked me for the number and the others didn’t, very simple.”

“Very simple indeed! Out of all your friends, this girl was the only one interested in knowing your Srinagar telephone number; I don’t find anything simple about it at all, my dear Bittuji”

“It is not my fault, Babuji, she asked for my number and I couldn’t very well refuse, could I?”

“Come on, now, tell me the truth. You talked for almost ten minutes, if she had wanted to know about whether you had reached this place safely, a couple of minutes would have been enough for that. I may be old but I still have a wise head on my shoulders. Is she a friend or more than a friend?” I was trapped. Babuji had shut down all escape routes for me. What could I say now? How was it possible for me to talk about Anita with Babuji?

“I am waiting for an answer and I will be happy if you tell me the truth. You are no longer a kid now, you are a young man now and you can talk to me as a friend” Talk to Babuji as a friend? That too, about matters of the heart? It was unimaginable!

“Babuji, we will talk about it later. Let’s have breakfast first”

“No, we will not have breakfast unless you tell me everything about this girl”

“Well, her name is Anita, we used to stay in the same colony and we became very good friends”

“What do you mean by very good friends? Will you be more specific in your answers?” Babuji seemed to have made up his mind to dig up the truth and he would not stop until he arrived at the whole truth.

“We are in love Babuji” The moment the words tumbled out of my mouth, I felt terribly embarrassed, I was blushing like a girl.

“Does that mean you want to marry that girl, whatever her name is?”

“Yes, Babuji, that’s right” It took a lot of courage on my part to say this.

“Do Lalaji and Bahuji know about it?”

“Yes, they do”

“What about her parents, do they know?”

“They also know, Babuji”

“Is your relationship acceptable to them?”

“No, Babuji, it isn’t” This conversation was going too far now. I had never thought that Babuji would ask me such questions and that too, so frankly.

“Why do they oppose this proposed union of yours?”

“I don’t know”

“If you don’t know, who knows? That girl, whatever her name is, must know!” By now, I had become exasperated; I had reached a stage where I was unable to tolerate this interrogation.

“Babuji, the girl’s name is Anita so don’t keep on saying’ whatever her name is’, she wants to marry me but her parents want her to marry a boy of her own caste. Another reason is that they want to marry her off immediately and I can’t marry her yet because I don’t have a job. Babuji, it is her engagement on the tenth, day after tomorrow, I had promised her I would be there before that and bring her to my home and you know the rest”

“Does that mean you were planning to elope with that girl, whatever her,oh sorry, I mean Anita?”

“Elope is not the right word to use, Babuji. Her parents are forcing her to marry someone against her wishes and that is injustice. I want to stop this injustice from taking place. Is there anything wrong with that, Babuji?” I had deliberately used the word injustice because I knew Babuji’s hatred for all kinds of injustice.

“Now that you have decided to stay here, how do you plan to stop this injustice from taking place?”

“I can’t do anything now; I can only hope that Anita will stick to her promise”

“And what was that promise?” The question had a slightly sarcastic tone to it.

“She has promised me she will never agree to marry anyone else and I have faith in her promise”

“You fools of the new generation, which world do you live in? Do you seriously believe she will have the will and the strength to resist her parents? In our society, such things don’t happen; she will have to accept the wishes of her parents. She is getting engaged in a day’s time and within a month she will be married and you won’t be able to do anything”

“No, she will not marry anyone else. I have full faith in her”

“Your faith be damned, you are not just a fool, you are a moron, an idiot” This was the first time I had heard Babuji use a swear word and he was furious.

“Come with me”, he pulled me by the hand and literally dragged me straight into the drawing room. He took me to the spot where the telephone was kept.

“Dial her number”

“I can’t, Babuji, I can’t. Her father will be at home at this time and he is the one who will answer the phone” By now I had started sweating, sweating with fear and nervousness.

“Are you afraid of her father? What has happened to the youth of today, they have become a bunch of cowards. You talk about the greatness of love, about love fighting all restrictions and when it comes to the crunch you forget all the lofty words you ever uttered and give in to the wishes of your parents. You have no guts and you have the temerity to blame our generation! Do you know that I had to fight an entire society to marry your Amma? I was more than six feet in height, your Amma was not even four but I loved her and was determined to marry her. The whole family, all my relatives tried to stop me but I stood firm and so did your Amma. We were not cowards, we had the courage to fight for our convictions and fight I did till everyone agreed.” I had never heard all this before. Babuji and Amma’s marriage, a love marriage? I was stunned into speechlessness.

“Now will you dial the number or not?”

“But Babuji what purpose will it serve? Her father is a man of ill temper; he will surely say something insulting to you. Babuji,please don’t talk to him, it will hurt me terribly if he says anything wrong to you or if he uses any insulting language. Babuji, let Anita get married, I don’t care but I care for you. I will not be able to tolerate anybody hurting my Babuji in any way!”

“Let him say whatever he wants to, I am going to try and stop this engagement. Dial, I say” I had never heard Babuji shout so loudly and with such anger. Amma and Khalid rushed into the room.

“Oh my god, oh my god, what happened why are you shouting at my son?”  There was panic in Amma’s voice.

“You keep out of this, will you” Babuji was now beyond control. He again asked me to dial Anita’s number. I picked up the receiver and started dialing, slowly, very slowly. It was all out of my hands now. I had no idea what was going to happen, I hoped and prayed that Mr Suri would  not be the one to pick up the phone.

Who is she,part31

Part31

“Hey, Ghulam Hasan, will you take us to Jammu tomorrow?” The question from Bhaisahab came simply out of the blue.

“Who is leaving tomorrow?” Hasan was also taken by surprise.

“All of us are leaving, including Amma and Babuji”

“If you want to leave, you can, but don’t include us, we are not going anywhere” Babuji said forcefully.

“I thought my words must have made you change your mind but you refuse to understand. How many times will I have to tell you that this place is not safe? Do I need to announce it over a loudspeaker the way the Muslims made announcements from mosques to make us flee our homeland?” This was rude of Bhaisahab. I had never seen this aspect of his nature. Babuji was watching Hasan.

“Bhaisahab, have you lost your mind, do you know what you are talking about? Control your tongue”

“I am absolutely normal; you people are the ones who refuse to see the writing on the wall. I am speaking plain and simple truth and I don’t bother if someone’s feelings are hurt!” He was obviously referring to Hasan.

“Bhaisahab, as far as I remember, you would never talk to Babuji in this tone, in fact I have never heard any member of the family raise his voice in front of Babuji. Lalaji, in spite of having a wild temper, would always speak in very soft tones, no matter what the provocation. What has happened Bhaisahab that makes you talk like this?”

“Hasan, we came all the way to Srinagar with the specific purpose of taking Babuji and Amma out of here. We had informed them to be ready to leave and keep their stuff packed and what do we see? No packing, both Amma and Babuji refusing to come with us? If they were so determined not to leave, they should have told us over the phone, we would have been saved this futile journey. Babuji, you knew the purpose of our coming, why didn’t you tell us not to come?”

“I wanted to but your Amma was keen to meet her darling Bittu. She was the one who said that I should not stop you. She has been missing Bittu badly. Had Bittuji not been with you, I would have told you very bluntly not to waste your time in coming here”.

“He is right, I was the one who said let them come. I had become selfish in my love for Bittuji, I had become desperate to see him, to have a glimpse of him. I thought I would never see him again but when I heard he was also coming, I was happy that I would be able to see him one last time before dying. Was I wrong?  Bhaisahaba, you don’t understand the feelings of a mother, the feelings of a mother who has not seen her beloved son for years and has lost all hopes of seeing him again!” With these words Amma started sobbing uncontrollably, I had never seen her cry like this. Everyone looked stunned.

“Stop this nonsense. If they don’t care that is their problem, why are you shedding tears, these tears will be of no help. I had told you we should ask them not to come but your obduracy prevailed over my reason as it always has. Makhan Lal, stop all this now, you are behaving like a boor, didn’t expect this of you. Hasan, get them a taxi for tomorrow, Amma has fulfilled her wish and now both Bittuji and Makhan Lal can go back. In any case, Bhaisahab never considered Kashmir his home. Right since he got this job, he has never been posted in Kashmir so why should he have any attachment with this place? His home is and will always be Jammu”

“I am not going anywhere” I declared in a loud voice which echoed in the whole room.

“Now what is this new drama? Bittuji, try to understand, Lalaji and Bahuji also need you; they will worry themselves to death if you stay here. Don’t worry about us; we are happy and as safe as anyone else”

“But I want to stay here. I also want to spend some time with you people. I want to live with Amma, what is wrong with that? If this place is safe for you, it is safe for me also, isn’t it?” I knew Babuji would not have an answer to this one.

“Bittuji, you are right. This place is safe; there is nothing to worry about. Bhaisahab said that announcements were made from loudspeakers asking Pundits to leave. That is true. But who was making those announcements, it was not the common Muslim, it was not people like me. It was just a small minority of fanatics. We never wanted the Pundits to leave. We are incomplete without them. Our religions may be different but our heritage, our culture is the same. I agree the situation at present is bad. Many young Muslims have got hold of guns and they have killed some Pundits. Not only Pundits, they are killing Muslims also. We are also scared of them but that does not mean we run away from our beloved Kashmir. You may feel bad, Bhaisahb, but Pundits made a big mistake by leaving their homes. The government should have stopped them but the government of the day also seemed happy to see them go. In fact, the administration helped them in leaving, you may not believe me but this is the truth” Hasan had become excited while expressing his views.

“Stop this,Hasan. I don’t want to hear a word more. All you are doing is defending the actions of your Muslim brethren and I am not interested in listening. Now tell me, are you going to take us to Jammu tomorrow or not? I have another taxi in hand, if you are not willing” Bhaisahb was now on a total warpath. The words of Babuji or the tears of Amma had not had any effect upon him.

‘I will certainly take you and I will drive myself but who is leaving?”

“Bittuji and I”,Bhaisahb replied calmly.

“Didn’t you hear me Bhaisahab? I said I am not going anywhere, and I mean it”

“Do you think I am going to leave you here? Lalaji sent me to take care of you and bring you back. I am not going to listen to your foolish talk. Get ready to leave”

“I don’t care what Lalaji said or will say. For me Amma and Babuji matter more than he does”

“Is that your final decision?”

“Yes it is, how many times do you want me to repeat it?”

“Then let me talk to Lalaji first, let me see what he has to say. He went to the other room, ostensibly to make a phone call to my father.

“Bittuji, why do you persist in staying? We can manage, I told you”

“I know you can manage but Amma needs me and I need her. Moreover, I want to understand what really is happening in Kashmir.”

“Lalaji has gone mad, even Bahuji has caught the same infection. Both of them are saying ‘let Bittuji stay,if he wants to’ If this isn’t madness, what is?” Bhaisahab entered the room with a crestfallen expression.

“This is wisdom, Bhaisahab but you won’t understand it” Babuji said with a twinkle in his eyes. I could see and feel that he was happy at what Lalaji had said.

Everything was finalized. Hasan would come in the morning and Bhaisahb would leave for Jammu.

I spent the rest of the day in my room, flipping the pages of David Copperfield. The dinner was a quiet affair. Bhaisahab looked sullen and very few words were uttered. The next morning, when I came down, I saw that Hasan had already arrived and Bhaisahb was preparing to leave. Babuji and Amma were there to see him off. Before he got into the taxi, Amma  gave him a tight hug. Tears were rolling down her eyes.

“I doubt I will ever see you again, my son. May God be with you”

“We will meet again Amma we surely will” With these words, he got into the car and off he went.

“Bittuji, I will sacrifice my life for you, you don’t know what a favour you have done to me by not going back. Now I can rest in peace.” We made a strange sight, right out there on the middle of the road. People watching would have thought that a mother was meeting her long lost son.

Who is she,part30

Part 30

I was thinking and thinking hard but I was not able to see my way through. There was one part of me which was saying that staying in Kashmir would be a total waste of time. Even if I did stay, how long would that be? I could manage to stay for a fortnight or maybe a month but certainly not beyond that. I had my career to think of and I knew Kashmir would not be able to offer me a job. In what way would my staying help my grandparents? After the passage of a month, they would still not agree to leave Kashmir. And then of course, there was the all important question of Anita. What if I lost her forever that was a distinct possibility. In our society, girls find it difficult to ward of the pressures of their parents, no matter how hard they might try to do so. Anita had said she would resist but had she not agreed to the engagement? Terrific pressure must have been put upon her; otherwise she was not the one to meekly give in. If I didn’t go to her in time, how could she resist the pressure of marriage?

The other part of my mind reminded me of my duty towards the two people who had played a significant role in my bringing up. It was not possible for me to abandon them in this manner. My father had specifically told me that I should use every weapon in my emotional armoury in order to convince them to say good bye to Kashmir. I had arrived only last night and the events that had taken place had made me forget this particular directive of my father. So far, I had not made any effort at all to make them understand the importance of leaving Kashmir. On the contrary, I was the one who had started thinking in terms of living in Kashmir. I was told that the situation in Kashmir was terrible; it was tough for a Pundit family to survive for long. The hostility of the local population had reached epic proportions. So far, I had not come face to face with an example of the animosity of Muslims towards Pundits, all I had seen was love and only love but then  I had been in Kashmir only for 18 or twenty hours, in this short period, how could I know what the truth was? It was only after being around for some duration that would help me in getting a grasp over things. That meant remaining in Kashmir for a week or two.

I had arrived at a decision; I knew what I had to do. The way I had chosen seemed the only way to me.

“Aren’t you people hungry, do you know what time it is? It is nearing 1.”Amma was standing at the door. I glanced at my watch; I was surprised that so much time had elapsed since we had walked into this room. Babuji had dozed off in his arm chair but he became alert as soon as he heard Amma’s voice. Bhaisahab was still lost in dream world of his own. Amma’s voice did not seem to have any effect on either his dreams or on his snoring.

“Get up, Bhaisahab, have you come to this place for sleeping or spending some time with us?” At this, Bhaisahab’s snoring grew louder. I got up and shook him awake.

“Uh,uh uh, has the taxi come, where is our luggage?” He was totally befuddled. It took him some time to find his bearings.

“Amma, what is this? I am starving and you are yet to serve us lunch, what were you doing?’ Babuji smiled but did not say anything.

“Do you know how long you have been sleeping? Khalid has already laid the thalis etc, get up and have your lunch” Amma said in a mildly jovial tone. All of us got up and headed for the living room or the dining room, call it whatever you may. In Kashmir, at least at that time, we did not have the concept of a dining room. It was a room which was used as a dining room as well as the living room. Khalid had spread a new sheet today; I could see that the colour was different from the one which had been used last night. The Thalis were immaculately placed and each of us took up our appointed places.

“Amma I hope you have prepared something good for me, yesterday you thought of only your darling Bittu, hope today you have given some thought to poor me also”

“Of course, I have made fish for you, your favourite, and I haven’t added too many chilies.” Fish was my favourite also so Amma had managed to kill two birds with one stone, very clever of her.

I could hear someone knocking at the door. Khalid heard it too. During the day, the main gate was not bolted from inside, only the door to the main house was closed. This had been the practice for as long as I could remember.

“Babuji, it is Ghulam Hasan” Khalid spoke a little hesitantly, not sure whether the guest should be asked to sit in the drawing room or asked to come into the dining room.

“Ask him to come in and lay a plate for him also” This was another surprise for me. The first surprise had been when I had seen Khalid working in the Kitchen. Now I was amazed to see that a Muslim would be eating and sitting by our side. Babuji had always been of a progressive mindset but Amma had been very particular about keeping Muslims away from the kitchen and away from the utensils which we used. If a Muslim had to be served anything, there would be separate utensils for him\her and those utensils would not be allowed inside the kitchen. This came as pleasant surprise to me. I had never liked this discrimination; it reminded me of the caste system practiced by the Hindu society at large. At times I used to think that Kashmiri Pundits treated Muslims the way upper caste Hindus in India treated the lower castes, it would really make me feel bad, very bad.

“Oh, ho, look who is here! Amma you must be very happy, your ladla, your darling Bittuji is here. Do you recognize me, Bittuji?”  I sure did. Babuji owned a Fiat car,it was black in colour and Ghulam Hasan was the driver. He was very faithful and had become a member of the family. Whenever the car was available, Amma would ask him to take me for a drive and he would readily agree. I am talking of the time when I was in class5 or class6. He was also the one who would bring me my lunch to school. Not many could afford this luxury so my friends would envy me but all this had been possible because of Amma. Babuji was never in favour of giving me special treatment but Amma always had her way.

“Of course I do Hasan, I met you five years ago when I came here last. Don’t you remember you took me and my friends to Gulmarg and Pehalgam in your taxi?” After Babuji had sold off his vintage Fiat, he did not buy any other vehicle. Hasan was left without a job but not for long. Later on he bought a car of his own and started a taxi service. Now he was the owner of 6 taxis, at least, that was the number when I was in Kashmir last. It must have increased by now. He was wearing an expensive looking shirt and very well stitched trousers. This was the picture of a man who was completely satisfied with the way life had treated him.

“I haven’t forgotten anything, even the slap which Lalaji gave me” My father used to have a very violent temper and once he had slapped him very hard. I remembered that incident vividly and felt ashamed at my father’s action. It was to the credit of Ghulam Hasan that he did not react at all, anyone else in his place would have given my father a piece of his mind and left the job. Such was the regard this man had for the family.

“Bhaisahabji, are you fine? How is Jammu? Must be very hot?” Bhaisahab had already started eating and at that time his mouth was full so he just nodded his head. Babuji asked Hasan to have lunch but he said he had already had his fill.

“Are you speaking the truth?” Babuji persisted.

“Why should I lie, this is just like my own home”

It was not easy for me to concentrate on my food. The fish was very tasty but my mind was preoccupied. I had met lots of Muslims since last night and I had not been able to detect any enmity or hostility .Babuji was very much at home with the local people and he enjoyed interacting with them. Amma also seemed to be happy. Taking them away from here would be like taking a fish out of water and I was not prepared to do that, even if it meant losing my Anita forever.

Who is she, Part 29

Part 29

“Look  Amma, look at your darling Bittuji, is this the way to speak to his elders? It is your fault; your pampering has spoiled him totally. He has forgotten his manners”

“Why are you always blaming him? I know you were jealous of him, jealous because you felt your children did not get the same love from me which Bittuji got but why do you forget I never treated him as my grandson, he was my youngest son and he still is. By the way, what was wrong with what he said? If he wants to stay here with us, he has every right to say so!”

“Amma, how can he stay here? He doesn’t realize what he is saying. If he stays here, what will happen to his career? Do you want him to stay unemployed all his life? Don’t you know he has a job to join?”

“There is no need for you to worry about his job; your father will get him a good one.”

“ Amma, why are you acting so dumb? Times have changed. Babuji will not be able to get him a job, not even a peon’s job. Whatever jobs there are in Kashmir are only for Muslims now.”

“I don’t know about all that, all I am interested in is that Bittuji should stay with me”

“There is a better way of doing that. You go with him to Amritsar and he will always be with you”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Makhan Lal that we are not going to leave this place?” Babuji used Bhaisahab’s real name only when he was angry or emotionally disturbed.

“All of you please desist from saying anything further. Let us have breakfast now” Amma commanded and no one dared to ignore her orders.

“Now I understand why Bittuji lost his temper. Poor fellow must be famished. What are we going to have?” Bhaisahab sounded relaxed now; after all it was a matter of food.

Khalid brought a pile of Kashmiri rotis on a plate. He also brought kehwa along, kehwa,the Kashmiri tea.

“Are we going to have dry rotis? No butter, no eggs?” Bhaisahab asked.

“Bhaisahb, if you remember, we never used to have anything with rotis, only tea or have you forgotten?” Amma’s voice was still stern.

“But Amma, you don’t know how tasty these rotis become when we have them with butter or with eggs?’

“I don’t want to know. Now start eating.” I enjoyed eating these Kashmiri rotis. As I stretched out my hand to have one more, my hand touched an empty plate.

“Where have all the rotis gone? There were so many of them!! I asked in mock surprise because I knew Bhaisahab had done full justice to his stomach.

“Doesn’t matter, Bittuji, we had a lot to eat yesterday so better to give our stomachs some rest”

“Very clever, Bhaisahab, you ate almost all the rotis and now you are telling Bittuji to eat less. You haven’t changed a bit. Once a glutton always a glutton” This was Babuji, remarking in a lighter vein.

“Babuji, you are accusing me without any rhyme or reason. I only had, let me see, five rotis, I swear!”

All of us laughed simultaneously, even Khalid joined in. For the first time, in the last couple of days, I saw Bhaisahab looking somewhat abashed. He was smiling sheepishly.

“Don’t you worry, Bhaisahab, you can have more, rotis are not more important than you!” Amma said with motherly affection.

After we finished our breakfast, Babuji suggested we move to the drawing room.

“Many people will come to meet you today so we better sit in that room” He said, looking at both Bhaisahab and me.

Babuji sat in his favourite armchair and started reading the newspaper. He was dressed up for the day. Today he was wearing a camel coloured coat and brown trousers. A perfect match! Bhaisahb sat on the floor, leaning against one of the many bolsters in the room. I sat down at the place where Amma usually sat. It seemed like old days. This was the room where all the male members of the family would gather after breakfast, normally on Sundays or holidays. Babuji would be sitting exactly as he was sitting now. There would be a lot of talk, every subject under the sun would be discussed and heated debates used to be very common, shouting each other down used to be the order of the day. The only difference and a very great one at that, was the drastically reduced number of people. Where had all the others gone and why? What was it that had changed the whole atmosphere of the room, not just the room but the whole house? Were the Muslims actually responsible for this funereal atmosphere? Did they hate us? Did they want to eliminate us? I kept on thinking but could not find any satisfactory answers. I recalled the way I had been welcomed by my old acquaintances; they had been full of love and affection. How could this be termed as hatred? But Bhaisahab said they could not be trusted and maybe he was right. I was not old enough or wise enough to understand all these things.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of loud snoring. I looked towards Bhaisahab. His head was comfortably resting on the bolster; he had stretched himself fully and was sleeping as if he did not have a care in the world. I would have loved to sleep the way he was sleeping but my mind was totally preoccupied. I had made an impetuous announcement that I would not leave Kashmir. Why had I done it? Wasn’t I aware that if I did not leave Srinagar immediately, I would be betraying Anita and being cruel to her as well as myself? My staying in Kashmir was not possible. Bhaisahab was worried about my career; I knew that there was no need to worry on that front. Lots of job offers would come my way but there would be no Anita.

“Bittuji, were you really serious about what you said in the living room? Do you want to stay back? Don’t make any hasty decisions, especially decisions based on emotions. We don’t need anyone to look after us, we are happy and contented the way we are. We bear no hatred for the Muslims, they have no ill feelings for us, we live in peaceful co-existence, the way we used to earlier. You carry on with your life and we will carry on with ours.”

“Babuji, frankly speaking, I don’t know much about what is going on in Kashmir. But how can we allow you to stay here by yourselves and that too at this age. You need your near and dear ones with you. Lalaji is all the time worried about you. He told me that I should not come back to Amritsar without you and Amma.”

“Do you know how many old couples are staying by themselves? I am not talking about Kashmir alone; I am talking about the whole world. I am sure you must be aware of many such couples in Amritsar. Daughters get married, sons get jobs far outside the city or even abroad. Who looks after their parents? How many parents accompany their sons to foreign countries? My dear Bittu, this is the way life is. At this age, no one wants to leave their native places. Your Amma and I have spent all our lives here and we would like to see our lives come to an end in this house itself. Death is going to come in any case; we have reached an age where the call from above can come at anytime. I would prefer being killed by a bullet in my home rather than dying a natural death in a foreign place”

I had never heard Babuji speaking in this manner and for such a long time. He was always a man of few words but today he had opened out his heart to me. I could feel tears rolling down my eyes. I wiped them off quickly; I didn’t want Babuji to see me in such a state. Whatever Babuji had said made perfect sense. We had no right to uproot them from the only home they knew and the only place they loved. We feared for their safety, we were afraid they would fall victims to the bullets of some mad men. How justified were our fears? Considering the number of Kashmiri Pundits who had left, fearing for their lives, the fears were not unjustified. But the logic with which Babuji had explained everything could also not be faulted. Death could come to a person anytime, in any form, at any place. One could die in an accident; one could die of a stroke. I could have been one of the many Hindus who were killed in Punjab but as Babuji said, the call from above had not come for me, at least not yet. Everyone likes to die in the place of his birth. I was reminded of the words of a Hindi film song-‘Hum jahan paida hue, us jagah hi niklr dhum’-(Let me take my last breath in the place where I took my first)

I realized we were not being fair to them by forcing them to leave. But there was a voice within me which refused to remain silent. Bittu, how can you leave them like this? They need someone to be with them, someone who will satisfy their emotional needs. You should stay back, Bittu, at least for some time and see how things work out. Whatever you are today and whatever you will be is because of them. How can you forget all the love and affection that they gave you? They gave in to each and every demand of yours, reasonable or unreasonable. Don’t leave them, Bittu, don’t!

If I stay with them, I will lose Anita. How I can I even think of a life without her? I have to be in Chandigarh by the 10^th, I must leave tomorrow otherwise Anita will be forced to marry someone else and the fault will be mine. No, Bittu,no, it will not be your fault. Remember the last conversation you had with her over the phone from Amritsar? Didn’t she tell you that she would never allow herself to be pressurized by her parents? Do you recall her words? She said that under no circumstances would she marry anyone else? She made a promise to you Bittu and you should trust her. Have faith in her love. Stay back  Bittu, stay back. No matter what they say, Amma and Babuji need you at present more than anyone else does. Think, Bittu, Think!

.

Who is she,part 28

Part 28

The fatigue of the journey and the emotional strain I had gone through made me have a sound sleep. When I woke up, the sun was already up, rays of the sun were falling on my face, and they were coming from the window to my left which was facing the east. For some time, I felt completely disoriented. I t took a little time for me to realize that I was in my old room in Srinagar. I looked out of the window to my right and I could see the house of our neighbours. All the windows were closed; it was obvious the house was empty. I got out of bed and stood in front of the window, the window near which I had placed my writing table. The window opened out onto the main road and I had an excellent view, not only of the road immediately in front of the house but also of the main Karan Nagar road. Beyond that, in the distance, were the mountains, the sight of which always thrilled me. I could even see the snow on top of the mountains. I remembered how I would spend hours looking at this amazing view with a book in my hand; if anybody entered I would pretend to be studying. Those were really the days which I would never forget. As I was lost in my own thoughts, Khalid walked in with a cup of tea. He knew I never left my room without having tea. He greeted me and asked me whether I had had a comfortable night.

“Yes, Khalid, I had a very comfortable night”

“We kept the room just as you left it. Amma would not allow anyone to make any changes; she always said that when you come you should find your room exactly as you had wanted it to be. She never allowed anyone to use this room, not even the most important of guests” I was touched by his words and my guilt came back to haunt me, the guilt of not having bothered to visit my grandparents for such a long time. How could I have become such a stone hearted man? Does love make a person callous? Did my love for Anita make me indifferent to the love of Amma and Babuji? I had no answers to these questions but one fact I could not deny. It was because I wanted to stay close to Anita that had made me reluctant to come to my home. My parents had come to Kashmir many times in the last six years but I had always refused to accompany them. Love for Anita had made me selfish and self centered; this was the reality I had to accept. I could not blame Anita for that. She had never said that I should not go to Kashmir, as a matter of fact I had never asked her.

“Lovely tea, Khalid” I said.

Bittuji, I know I can talk to you frankly and I want discuss something important with you, can I?”

“Of course, you can, Khalid, you don’t need to ask.”

“Bittuji, why do you people want to take Babuji and Amma away from here? They are very happy out here, in spite of the fact that all their children have left them. Papaji could have easily stayed back. He had a job here and nothing to worry about” Papaji was also an employee of the P.W.D. “ Gasha and his family could have also stayed’ Gasha was Babuji’s younger brother. His son also worked for the’ infamous’ P.W.D. “When the trouble started, none of them talked about leaving. It was only after they saw everyone leaving, that they also decided to follow. Babuji tried his best to stop Gasha but he wouldn’t agree. It really broke Babuji’s heart but you know how Babuji is, he never showed his emotions. Soon after, Papaji announced they had decided to leave. He made every effort to persuade his father to accompany them but Babuji flatly refused as did Amma. You should have seen the way Amma pleaded with Papaji asking him not to leave but Papaji and his wife had already made up their minds. The day Papaji left, Amma cried the whole day. Two of her sons had left a long time back and now the son with whom she had hoped to spend the rest of her life was  also deserting her. You can well imagine her plight.”

“Khalid, they were forced to leave, the circumstances were such. The killings of some Kashmiri Pandits had sent a wave of fear across their hearts. I heard threats were made by Muslims, asking the pundits to leave or accept Nizam-e- Mustafa. Pundits thought they would be forcibly converted to Islam or killed. So how can you blame them for leaving?”

“Much of what you say is true but it is not the whole truth. I agree with what you say but the threats came from just a few people, some fanatics. The majority was not with them. Many Muslims tried their best to stop the pundits from leaving but the fear had reached such heights that nothing could stop them.”

“And what about your demand for aazadi (independence)”?

“Yes, we want aazadi but we want it for all Kashmiris including Pundits. They are also Kashmiris, aren’t they? But anyway, what I want to say is that your Babuji and Amma are perfectly happy here and also safe. Has anyone harmed them so far? Has anyone even threatened them?”

“Khalid, I am myself confused about the whole thing. I really don’t know what is happening. All I know is that Lalaji wants them out of here and so does Bhaisahab.”

“They won’t agree to leave Bittuji, you may try to persuade them, force them but you won’t succeed. Bittuji, why don’t you stay here? You are the apple of Amma’s eye. Bhaisahb and Lalaji have their jobs but you are free. You can easily get a job here. Think about it, Bittuji, I am quite serious. Now get ready, they will be waiting for you downstairs” Khalid picked up the now empty cup of tea and left.

My already confused mind became more muddled after listening to him. I had no idea about what action I should take nor did I know who was right and who was wrong. My immediate problem was to reach Chandigarh by the 9^th. I had to think of a way to do that. I could not bear the thought of Anita marrying someone else. It was impossible for me to think about a life without her. It was the 7^th, which meant I must leave on the 8^th – the next day. How would I manage it? And Khalid was talking about my staying on in Kashmir! That was impossible. As I got ready for going downstairs, I had reached a decision and no one could change my mind.

I entered the living room. Bhaisahab was having a heated argument with Babuji.

“Why don’t you understand? Kashmir is no longer a place for Kashmiri pundits. The local Muslims want us to leave. They want independence; they don’t want to stay with India. I met lots of Pundits in Jammu who had been forced to leave their homes. I heard their stories of suffering and pain. We will not let you go through all that. You will have to come with us.”

“What suffering are you talking about? In what way did they suffer? The moment a few Kashmiri Pundits were killed, they ran away. They are suffering in Jammu, they were not suffering here”

“So what did you want? Did you want them to stay back and wait for getting killed by these militants? They may not be happy in Jammu but at least they are alive”

“They were living like kings here; out there they are living at the mercy of the Indian government. They have been reduced to beggars, asking the Indian Government for money. We don’t want to live the life of beggars. Here is Bittuji, ask him about Punjab. He was there when terrorism was at its peak over there”

“What should I ask him? He is still a kid, he wasn’t even aware of the developments in Kashmir until he was asked to come here so what can he tell us about Punjab?”

“Bittuji, how many Hindu families left Amritsar when they were being killed by the Sikhs?’ I could not think of a single family that had left Amritsar.

“I don’t know, Babuji, I have no idea at all”

“Hindus were being killed like cattle in Punjab; they were dragged out of buses, out of trains and shot dead like animals. But did they leave their homes, their jobs? No they did not because they knew the value, the importance of staying grounded to their roots. Kashmiri Pundits never faced what the Punjabi Hindus faced so why should we be afraid?” Babuji almost shouted. What Babuji was saying was not far from the truth. I had been in Amritsar when Operation Bluestar had taken place. I had seen the anger of the Sikhs; even my Sikh friends had not hesitated to tell me how they felt! There was a fifteen day curfew all over the state. In Amritsar, we could hear the sound of gunfire day and night. We stayed indoors but there was no fear. After the operation ended, things returned to normal but the killings of Hindus did not stop. We carried on with our lives as usual. I did not hear any Hindu talking about leaving.

“Babuji don’t try to divert the issue by comparing Punjab with Kashmir, there can be no comparison between the two. Amma, pack up your clothes, we are leaving tomorrow. Rasool will come to pick us up in the morning. And Babuji, please don’t forget to pay me the taxi fare and the money which I spent on the way. I would not have asked you to pay but I had not got my salary when Lalaji asked me to accompany Bittuji to this place” Bhaisahb was really incorrigible.
I had remained silent for too long and suddenly something snapped inside me.

“No one is going anywhere. I will stay here with Babuji and Amma. Bhaisahab, you can leave in the morning, Babuji will pay you the money” I was angry and my anger could be felt by all present. Amma had a look of pleasant surprise on her face, Babuji looked at me in a puzzled manner and Bhaisahb’s face had stupefaction written all over it. I had made the most important decision of my life. I had no idea what this would cost me!

Who is she? Part27

                                                                              Part 27

“There is nothing to be afraid of, Bittuji, must be some of our close friends. They must have heard of your coming” Babuji looked completely unperturbed. Amma was also carrying on with her food. I was the only one who had stopped eating. I was not scared. I knew if it had been something to be afraid of, the first step Babuji and Amma would have taken was that of protecting me. Amma, in, particular would have raised a big hue and cry but both of them were cool and calm and their calmness rubbed off upon me. The only thing I was thinking of was that they had shouted out my name and also said that they would break open the door. This was the worrying factor for me. Suddenly Khalid rushed in.

“Bittuji, come out fast” Khalid was breathless. “You can finish your food later” I looked at Amma and Babuji. They were looking at Khalid with questioning eyes but did not say anything, they just nodded at me. This was their way of saying I should go. I got up but let me be frank enough to say that I was slightly afraid. My fear was natural, particularly after all the stories I had heard lately about the happenings in Kashmir. I got up and followed Khalid, not knowing what to expect.

“Who is it Khalid?” I asked as we neared the main gate.

“You will see for yourself” he sounded excited and his excitement itself was a mystery to me. The main gate was open; there were a group of people waiting outside on the road. Thankfully, the street light was on and I was able to see their faces. They looked familiar but I was unable to place them. Before I could come out of the gate, they rushed inside and almost pounced upon me. They were four in all and all the four were elderly people. Somebody held me from the front, somebody held me from the side and one person grabbed me from the back. I was being smothered; I found it difficult to breathe. Were they trying to capture me or kill me with their bare hands? I caught a glimpse of Khalid and was shocked to see him laughing soundlessly. Was Khalid a part of this gang? Had the protector become a destroyer? My fear knew no bounds. This was the end of me. Anita, I am sorry, you will not be able to see me again, I said to myself.  

“ Bittujiya you are back, we are thrilled to see you!” One person spoke out. Slowly they let go of me. I took a deep breath, I had almost been suffocated. But before I could recover, everyone started hugging me one by one, each hug tighter than the other. All this was beyond my comprehension. Who were these people?

“You don’t recognize us do you Bittuji?”

“How can he? He hasn’t seen us for ages”

“Bittuji, you may have forgotten us but how can we?”

“How can we forget the tough times you gave us?” Each of them had spoken one by one but I was still clueless as to their identity. The only positive aspect was that my fear had vanished. Whoever they were, they were not my enemies.

“I am Gulla, the meat seller, recognize me? Your Amma used to wake me up in the middle of the night because you had demanded Roganjosh and she could never say no to you” I looked at him closely and finally recognized him. The thought that I used to cause so much trouble to Amma made me feel ashamed of myself. I had hardly ever been to Gulla’s shop but many times he had come to our home to deliver mutton which the family had ordered. His shop was just across the road, visible from my room.

“I am Bilal, the barber, remember me? You would make it very difficult for me to cut your hair; you could just not sit still, sometimes I would get so frustrated that I felt like throwing you out along with the chair. I was the one who shaved off your head on your mekhal (Mekhal is Yegnopaveet in Hindi’) You didn’t want to have a bald pate and Amma supported you but Babuji stood firm” Recognizing Bilal was not difficult as I had my last haircut in Srinagar at his shop.

“I am Qayyum, the gardener, I am sure you can never forget me. I used to work so hard in maintaining the lawn and you would ruin my hard work by playing cricket. I used to complain to Babuji and he would try to stop you but Amma always came to your rescue. Do you remember, once you hit a shot and the ball hit me on the head? I almost fell unconscious. I still carry a lump on my forehead, whenever I feel it, I think of you” Yes, I remembered that incident very well. I had received a severe tongue lashing from Babuji and he might have thrashed me had Amma not saved me.

“And I am Rashid, the tailor. Oh, Khudaya, what a brat you were! Whenever you came to try out a new shirt or a pair of trousers, you would create a mighty mess. You would always find fault with everything, sometimes the clothes were too tight, sometimes you found them too loose and I don’t remember a single occasion when you approved of the fitting at the very first trial. There were times when Amma would come to my shop and ask me to come home because her lathsahab was in no mood to come to the shop. I don’t think any mother could have done what she did for you. No doubt, you were a spoilt brat but you were the darling of one and all”

My God, what a reception I was getting, a reception fit for V.I.Ps!

“Hey, why are you all standing outside, why don’t you come in?” Babuji had come out but he did not bother to find out who these people were. It seemed as if he had already known who they were. Everyone greeted Babuji very warmly and Babuji’s response matched theirs.

“Majeed told us about Bittuji and we could not control ourselves. We just had to meet him, to see him. After all we have seen him grow up into the young man that he is now.”

“You should have waited till the morning; you know very well the harassment that you are subjected to by the security forces. What was hurry?”

“The army wallas know us very well by now. They come to our shops many times; they look at us and let us go, so we are not worried about them. The coming back of Bittuji is a momentous occasion for us” They made me feel like a celebrity.

“Anyway, come in and have something to eat. Amma has made some very good Roganjosh”

“For her darling son, Bittuji, of course. That was why Khalid was looking for the best of pieces; after all it was for our Bittu raja!” Gulla ruffled my hair affectionately.

“Hey, Gulla don’t touch his hair, if anything goes wrong with his hairstyle, I will have to face the music tomorrow” Bilal guffawed. Babuji again asked them to come in but they refused, saying they were getting late and they would come again the next day. They give me another loving hug and left.

We went inside. Babuji told Amma all that had happened. Amma looked at me with tears in her eyes.

“Do you see Bittuji, how much everyone loves you, loves my darling son?” Tears were now flowing down her cheeks like water from a spring. I lay my head on her lap and promised her I would never leave her again. Suddenly, the telephone rang. It was in the drawing room.

“It must be Lalaji calling up to find out whether you people have reached safely. Khalid go and see who it is” My father was called Lalaji by everyone and my mother was known as Bahuji. I had still not got used to calling them Daddy and Mummy, even now I addressed them as Lalaji and Bahuji.

“It is for Bittuji” Khalid shouted.

“Who is it?” Babuji asked.

“I don’t know, it is some girl” I recalled, I had given my Srinagar number to Anita but how could she be calling at this time?

“Go and see who it is, must be one of your Amritsar friends” Babuji remarked. I rushed into the other room and I almost snatched the receiver from Khalid’s hands.

“Hello’ I said excitedly.

“Oh, Baitu,my love, thank god it is you. I was afraid you might be sleeping. Darling, everyone has gone to attend a wedding, I was also supposed to go but I pretended I was unwell because I wanted to talk to you. Baitu, when are you coming back? Have your grandparents agreed to leave Kashmir?”

“Anita, my love, I reached this evening. It will take me some time to convince them”

“But I don’t have time, my father has chosen a boy for me and the engagement is supposed to take place on the 10^th. You will have to come back before that and take me away from here. You know I cannot marry anyone but you. I am ready to leave my parents but you should be here otherwise where will I go?” It was the 6^th. Only four days left.

“Don’t you worry, Anita, I will be there before the 10^th, come what may” We talked sweet nothings for sometime till Amma shouted,

“How long will you go on talking, it is time for you to go to bed, do you hear?” Amma sounded a little stern, maybe because I was talking to a girl. A few more words and I said bye. I returned to the living room or the dining room. No one asked me anything. No questions about who the girl was! Both Babuji and Amma asked me to go to my room and wished me good night. I said good night to Khalid also.

Immediately, on entering my room, I flung myself onto the bed. I should have fallen asleep immediately after a long and stressful day but sleep would not come. Anita’s phone call had turned my world upside down. I had promised her I would be back before the 10^th but in my heart of hearts, I knew it would not be possible. I was sure my grandparents would never agree to leave. I had witnessed some very touching scenes that day, so much love and affection had been showered upon me. People whom I had not met for years welcomed me like a long lost son. They were all Muslims and Bhaisahab had said they were our enemies. He was wrong and Babuji was right. Even I would find it difficult to leave Kashmir now. You have an easy choice to make Bittu, all you have to do is to choose between Kashmir and Anita, your grandparents and your love. Choose Bittu, choose, Kashmir or Anita…..Anita or Kashmir? I tossed around on the bed till sleep gave me respite from the torture I was facing!

Who is she26

My room was on the top floor. I raced up the stairs as the prospect of going into my room, the place where I had spent some of the best moments of my brief life, was a thrilling one. In the process I forgot to take my suitcase with me. I thought I would have to go all the down again but decided to so only after having a look at my personal abode. I opened the door. The first thing I saw was my suitcase lying on the floor. How thoughtful of Khalid! I looked around. Everything was the way I had left it. My study table was right in front of one of the windows, where it always used to be. It was neat and clean, not a speck of dust on it. A copy of David Copperfield was lying on the table, along with a notebook. The bed had been freshly made with a wrinkle free blue coloured bed sheet covering it. The handiwork of dear old Khalid again! The first thing I did was to plonk myself on the chair in front of the table. I wanted to get that old feeling again but somehow I was not able to. The room might have looked the same but the change was very palpable. What that change was I could not fathom. I sat there, ruminating for a while and then got up and changed into my night dress. I was keen and eager to sit with my grandparents.

When I reached downstairs, I found Babuji and Amma in the dining hall. Babuji had  also changed his dress, he was now clad in a shirt and pajamas. Kashmiris were not in the habit of wearing kurtas and pyjamas, at least not in those days. Babuji had also removed his turban and I could see that he had lost quite a bit of hair. The thought that he was aging pained me no end. Amma was dressed in the same pheran in which she had greeted me. Both of them were sitting on the floor. We did not have a dining table. We would sit cross-legged on the floor and eat. This was the practice in most of the Kashmiri households. I removed my slippers and sat down beside my loving granny. Amma put her hand on my cheek and stroked my face affectionately.

“You will not leave me now, Bittuji, will you?”

“No amma, never”.  I knew I was lying but the truth would have hurt her. She was in a happy mood and I did want to do or say anything which would cause her any kind of pain.

“Oh, so everybody is here but where is the food?” Bhaisahab’s voice had suddenly found a new kind of resonance which had been entirely missing throughout the long journey.

“ Bhaisahaba, sit down, let us talk for sometime like we used to in the old days. Ah, how I miss those days! This room used to be full of people, gossiping and chattering while the food was being served. Now it is only your father and me and how much can we talk? You know your father, he doesn’t talk much. Shamima  is the only company I have but  she can’t spare a lot of time. She has her family to look after.” Shamima was the name of Khalid’s wife.

“That is precisely the reason we want you to leave this place. All your sons and relatives have left. Your daughters and daughters-in law are also not here to look after you, so why do you want to stay here?” Bhaisahab sounded irritated. I wondered whether the irritation was because of hunger which was always present in Bhaisahab’s vicinity ready to pounce at him unexpectedly!

“Where will I go at this age? I have spent all my life in this house, so has your father. We can never feel at home anywhere else. We have lived here and we will die here” It sounded like a dialogue from a Hindi movie but as far as I knew, Amma had never seen a movie in her life. The words came straight from her heart.

“What are you talking about, Amma? Everyone has left. People much older than you have deserted Kashmir. In any case, what is so special about this place now? It is no longer the Kashmir you are talking about. If you live here, you will always be living under the shadow of death. All the Muslims here are our enemies. They don’t want us here. Those who left were not fools; they realized they would be killed if they stayed back. Why don’t you understand?”

“Bhaisahab, will you keep quiet?” Babuji said sternly but without raising his voice.”Didn’t I tell you that we would not leave and didn’t I say we would not have any arguments over it? And what is this nonsense about Muslims being our enemies? You don’t know what you are saying! Yes, many pundits have left, they left because they were afraid, there was an atmosphere of fear all around but this was the creation of just a few fanatics. The majority of Muslims had nothing to do with it; they are as shocked at the way events have turned out. When your brother left, a lot of Muslims came and tried to persuade him to stay back but he was as scared as you seem to be. We also made efforts in our own way to stop him from leaving but he was blinded by fear.”

“Papaji was right and so were all the others who left. Do you know how many pundits have lost their lives to these mad men so far? Thousands have been killed and you talk about Muslims being our friends!”

“Rubbish, absolute rubbish! Who told you that thousands had been killed? The figure is not even a hundred, maybe even less. You people who live outside Kashmir willingly believe everything that is said or written against Muslims? We have been living here and so far no so called terrorist has come to us or threatened us in any way. On the contrary, dozens of Muslims come here every day and assure us of our safety. They make it a point to tell us not to leave. They care for us more than you people do, I am sorry, but that is the truth.”

“Babuji, you have lost all sense of reason. How can you believe these local people, how can you trust them?”

“I can trust them with my life. Are you satisfied now?” Babuji raised his voice while speaking the last few words.

Khalid came out of the kitchen and spread a big plastic sheet in front of us. I glanced at Bhaisahb and I could see his eyes light up.

“Khalid, what have you made for us tonight?” Bhaisahab asked with a gleam of expectation in his eyes. It was as if the angry exchange which I had just witnessed had not taken place at all. The wonders that the very thought of food could take place in Bhaisahab’s mind!

“I made only rice; Amma has cooked special Roganjosh for Bittuji with lots of chilies”

“Of course, I forgot Bittuji is the V.I.P. of the house, who cares about a commoner like me?”I wondered whether he was joking or did I sense a trace of jealousy in his voice?

Food was served in the traditional Kashmiri way. The thalis were laid first, thalis are big plates with raised edges, comfortable for rice eaters. Rice was the first thing to be served; each of our thalis was filled almost to the brim with rice. We Kashmiris are big rice eaters. Then came the Roganjosh. Ah, it looked very tempting. I loved Roganjosh, more than I loved kaliya or yakhni-names of some other common Kashmiri dishes. Bhaisahb was the first one to start eating.

“Oh god, help me, this is too much, Khalid bring me some water, quickly. Amma, don’t you know that I am not used to having so many chilies? You thought of Bittuji but not about me? You have all along pampered him and now that he has grown up, you still treat him like a king.” Khalid handed over a glass of water to Bhaisahb who immediately gulped it down and heaved a sigh of relief.

“Ha ha ha, now I know why Bhaisahab is so afraid. A man who cannot handle a little bit of chilies will not be able to face any tough situation in life!” Babuji remarked jovially. He was grinning and this was the first time I had seen him smile since we came. Bhaisahb started eating again and this time mixed a lot of curd with the rice in order to lessen the effect of the chilies.

“Bhaisahb, if you don’t like chilies, don’t have mutton. I will get you some haakh which I had cooked in the morning”. Amma said.

“Do you want to deprive me of my share of mutton also? Do you think I am going to leave everything for Bittuji? You don’t know how much food he had on the way, the way he was eating, I was afraid I was  going to run out of all the money I had! No, Amma, chilies or no chilies I am not going to let this prince of Persia have all the mutton.” I was about to say something but decided against it. After all, why spoil Bhaisahab’s mood again? Let him have his fun.

“Khalid, bring  a thali for yourself, you must be very hungry by now” .

“Yes, Babuji, right away”.

Khalid was coming towards us with a thali  brimming over with rice when there was a loud thumping at the main gate. I looked at my watch. It was well past 10.30. Who could it be at this time?

“Hey, Bittuji, don’t try to hide, we know you are here. Come out or we will break open the door’’.Someone shouted at the top of his voice.  Bhaisahab was the first to react. He quickly got up and rushed upstairs with the words,

”I am going to lock myself in my room”.

 “I am going to see who it is” Khalid said as the thumping grew louder.

Who is she? Part25

All through the journey to Srinagar, I had never really felt scared but now fear gripped me. I had heard numerous stories of targeted as well as random killings but had never paid much attention to them. As I said earlier, Kashmir had been the least of my worries. Right since the day I had fallen in love, Kashmir had slipped into the background. I was so involved with Anita that I did not even bother to follow the events in Kashmir. It was only before I started for Srinagar that my father told me about all that had taken place in the valley and how the Pundits had suffered. Some had been killed and most had left. These people could be the ones who had come to know we were pundits and had come to shoot us. They were all wearing cotton pherans and I had no doubt in my mind that they were carrying weapons. Bhaisahab was the first to get out and I followed. It was nearing 8 but there was enough light for us to see all the faces. The sun in the summers sets late, quite late in Srinagar.

“Hey makhan Lal, kyasa waraya kaal gav,che aayi na sane yaad te!” (Makhan Lal, it has been a long time and you did not miss us at all) This was the first time I had heard someone addressing Bhaisahb by his actual name. The man hugged Bhaisahab tightly and refused to let him go. Bhaisahab was a short and frail looking man and I was afraid this bear hug may break his bones.

“Ha ye ha Chu panun Bittuji” (Hey, he is our own Bittuji) someone shouted and rushed towards me. Before I could react, the man embraced me and kissed me on my forehead. I was completely taken aback, in fact I was flummoxed. We were being welcomed like long lost friends. I had expected guns but I could feel and see only arms and eyes full of love.

“Bituji, don’t you recognize me?” The man who was holding me asked. I peered at him and immediately knew who he was. He was a Tonga Walla who used to take me to school when I was a kid of about 12. I recalled his name was Abdul.

“Abdul, isn’t it? How can I forget you? I remember the tantrums I used to throw when you would come to pick me up”

“Ah, you are a big boy now, I am sure you no longer behave like that?”

“Bittu, this is Majeed, do you know him?” Bhaisahab was talking about the man who had just released him from his arms. Of course I knew Majeed. He was our local milkman. Many a time I had gone to his shop to buy milk or curd and sometimes paneer. Majeed came up to me and put his arms around me.

“How have you been, son?”

I felt I was back among my own people. I had spent all my childhood with these folks; they were my people not the people of Punjab among whom I had spent the last six years. A wave of regret swept over me. Why had I left this place? I should have stayed on and I could have but the call of my parents had been strong enough to make me leave my homeland.

All this time Rasool had been just a mute spectator. He had been watching and observing everything but had not spoken a single word. It was Majeed who asked him his name and also where he lived.

“I live in Nowhatta” Rasool said.

“Hmmm, then I think you better hurry up. Makhan Lal, he lives in the interior part of the city. If he goes late, the security forces will give him a tough time. You and Bittu should also go home now. Babuji and Amma will be thrilled to see you. Amma is always talking about you, Bittuji, she misses you a lot. What a shame that all these years you never bothered to come and meet her. Anyway go fast now. May Allah be with you” My curiosity was getting the better of me.

“Why did you stop us in the first place?”

“This is predominantly a Hindu colony Bittu. Almost all the Pundits have left but a few families stayed back. We feel it to be our duty to protect them so we are always on the lookout for any strangers or a strange vehicle. We try our best but it is all in the hands of Allah. You go now, I will come to see you tomorrow” With these words, he and the rest of the group waved us away. We got into the car and this time we stopped right outside the gate of my house.

I got out of the car and stood rooted to the ground. I looked at my house, my dear old house and I was unable to take my eyes off it. It was a huge three storied building, at that moment it looked like a grand mansion to me. My eyes went up to the top floor, then to the second floor and last of all focused on the ground floor. This was the house where I had spent all my childhood days, in fact most of my life so far. I could not fail to notice that almost all the lights were off, the daylight had faded now, it was already dark and I was wondering why my grandparents had not switched on the lights. Then I remembered that the room of Babuji and Amma was on the other side and I could not see it from where I was standing. Bhaisahab and Rasool were busy in unloading the luggage.

“Hey, Raja Sahib, are you going to stand there and do nothing, come here and help us.” Bhaisahb almost shouted. We had only two suitcases and a small carry bag. I lifted both the suitcases but Rasool stopped me. Rasool carried both the suitcases and I held the carry bag. Bhaisahb was left with nothing in his hands. He rang the door bell. There was no response. He rang it again but nobody came out to open the door. After what seemed like an age, I could hear the sound of footsteps approaching, the door was unbolted and a strong beam of light exploded in our faces, completely blinding us. Somebody was holding a flashlight in his hands.

“Babuji, Amma, it is Bittuji, he is back’ the man shouted at the top of his voice. It was our dear old Khalid. He switched off the flashlight and now we could see him clearly. He was the same Khalid I had grown up with; the only difference was that he looked a little old now. His eyes fell on Bhaisahab and another bear hug followed. He opened the door fully and we entered. I looked towards my right where we had our lawn, the place where I had played a lot of cricket with my friends and got a lot of scolding for spoiling the grass. It was dark so I was unable to see much. I walked ahead of everyone and reached the main door to the house. The moment I entered I saw Amma shuffling towards me as fast as her small feet could carry her. She was very short, not even four feet but the way she walked towards me was majestic. To me she looked like a queen, dressed in her traditional pheran, with a turban like thing on her head. It was called a Taranga in Kashmiri.

“Bittuji, Bittuji, is it really you? I can’t believe it, you don’t know how my eyes have thirsted for a glimpse of you” She was walking and talking at the same time and by the time she finished the last word she was in my arms. I had to bend down so that she could shower me with kisses. She started sobbing and tears rolled down my cheeks as well.

“How could you forget your old Amma? You know it has been six years and two months since I saw you last. Why, oh why didn’t you come to see us?” Her words made me feel very guilty. I knew I could have come to visit her every year but my desire to stay close to Anita had been stronger than the desire to meet my parents. I am calling them parents because they really were my parents even if they had not given birth to me.

“Amma, namaskar” it was Bhaisahb. Amma was reluctant to let me go, she held me by the hand and gently hugged Bhaisahab with one arm.

“Is all the drama going to take place in the corridor? Let us go inside, it has been a long journey for us and we would love to have something to eat” Food and Bhaisahab were inseparable. I looked around for Rasool. I knew he would have enjoyed this but he was nowhere to be seen. He must have gone home.

“We entered the drawing room. It was a big hall with wall to wall carpeting and the carpet did not just look expensive, it was expensive. An example of my Babuji’s honesty! Babuji was sitting  in an arm chair, fully dressed, with shoes on as if he had just come from somewhere or was about to leave for some place. This was his habit. He would dress up in the morning and change into his night clothes only at the time of dinner. He was wearing a grey jacket and navy blue trousers with a yellow turban on the head. He looked as handsome as ever although he must have been in his early seventies.

“Namaskar, Bhaisahab, namaskar Bittuji. Everything fine? How was the journey?” No show of sentimentality from Babuji. He was a complete stoic. “Remove your shoes and sit down. Khalid, make some tea for them” The last words came as a surprise to me and even Bhaisahab raised his eyebrows. As far as I could recall, no Muslim was allowed to enter the kitchen but there seemed to have been a drastic change, a change for the better, I thought.

“Babuji because of your stubborn nature, we had to travel all the way to this dangerous place. You should have left with Papaji, we would have been saved the trouble of this journey and saved some money as well” It was highly insensitive of Bhaisahab to say this and that too when we had just entered the house. I had known him to be a glutton, a miser but I had never seen him behave so callously.

“Relax, Bhaisahab, you are tired, we will talk about it tomorrow” Babuji seemed to be completely unruffled by what his son had just said.

 It was Amma who entered with the tea along with my favourite katlam; it is a Kashmiri bakery product. I used to love it with my evening tea and how could my Amma have forgotten it!

“After having your tea you go to your rooms and change. Khalid, please clean up their rooms”

“Bhaisahab and Bittuji, remember one thing. No matter what happens we are not going to leave this place. This is my final decision and I don’t want any arguments over this”

‘This place is not safe for Kashmiri Pundits, Babuji, why don’t you understand?”

“You people say it is not safe, come and stay with me and I will show you how safe it is” Bhaisahb looked at me and I knew it would not be an easy task to take them away from Kashmir. I had a huge task on my hands…!

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