I
am used to it, Bittuji, I come this way at least thrice a week”
“Why
were we not subjected to the same treatment?”
“Because
you are Hindus”, he said very quietly. This was my first encounter with the
discrimination that the Indian security forces indulged in.
Part24
As
the vehicles trudged along towards the entrance of the tunnel, my mind
continued to be disturbed. I was unable to shake away the scenes of Rasool’s
frisking. I had never seen anything of this sort before and never expected to
see Kashmiris being treated like this. It was shameful. I felt sorry for Rasool
and for all those who must have had to undergo this kind of a humiliation day
in and day out. The moment we entered the darkness of the tunnel, my mood
changed. Going through that tunnel was an unforgettable experience. The tunnel
was almost two and a half kilometers long. It was pitch dark and whatever was
visible was due to the headlights of the vehicles. The road was narrow and we could hear the
sound of water falling along the walls on both the sides. We were moving very
slowly which was natural, considering the number of vehicles ahead of us.
Sometimes I could hear sounds of honking and I was surprised at the stupidity
of the drivers who were using the horn. What purpose was the honking going to
serve? Overtaking was simply out of the question but I suppose we are very fond
of blowing the horn and cannot control ourselves even if we know it is not going
to help in any way.
It
was so dark that I could not see Bhaisahab’s face; it was difficult to make out
whether he was awake or had gone into another of his deep slumbers.
“This
tunnel can be very dangerous, Bittu, it can collapse anytime and we will not
even know what hit us” I tried to see the expression on his face to find out
whether my uncle was really serious but failed.
“
Bhaisahab this tunnel has been in operation since 1955 and nothing has happened
to it so far. It is an engineering marvel. What makes you think in such a
negative manner?”
“It
is because I am an engineer that makes me think this way. After all I know how
these people work, they make money by using material of inferior quality and
they must not have made an exception in the case of this tunnel”
“Bhaisahab,
how much money have you made so far?” I asked cheekily.
“Oh,
shut up, Bittu, don’t you know my reputation? I am supposed to be one of the
most honest officers of my department”
“Really?
That is great, I am proud of you, proud to have an honest uncle like you” I was
smiling because I had heard stories of how much money he had made on the sly
while working in the P.W.D. Most of my uncles and cousins were in the same
department. My grandfather had also retired as an executive engineer from the
department and he used to spend money like a king. I had ruled out honesty in
my family a long time back.
While
carrying on with the conversation, I started becoming impatient. I wanted to
see the light at the end of the tunnel but the darkness had engulfed us and
just refused to let go. Had the same darkness enveloped Kashmir also? I kept on
wondering and wondering and my wandering mind took me to Anita. She should have
been in the car with me; it would have been great fun. I was confident that one
day Anita and I would go through this tunnel and the day was not far off. I
looked ahead but all I could see were the taillights of the car in front of us.
Time hung heavily upon me. I started feeling claustrophobic; the tunnel can
have this effect on you, particularly if you are driving at a slow pace. I was
desperate to reach the other side but the tunnel seemed to be never ending. At
last, after what seemed an age, I saw light in the distance. I shouted in
delight.
“Bhaisahab
look, we are about to enter Kashmir”
“What
is there to be excited about, Bittu, the moment we reach the other side,
militants will be waiting for us. I was foolish to have agreed to this trip. I
am again telling you, Bittu, nothing will save us. We are gone, finished”
Bhaisahab spoke in his typical style and it almost made me laugh.
“Bhaisahab,
you were never a coward, I have heard stories of your bravery” I lied.
“Ha
Ha Ha, me? A coward? Not at all. I am not afraid for myself, I am afraid for
you. I can face anyone; they dare not come near me!” This time I burst out
laughing, even Rasool could not suppress a giggle. Before Bhaisahab could
react, we our out of the tunnel.
This
was the moment I loved the most, the best part of the journey. A big board
proclaimed in huge letters’ WELCOME TO KASHMIR’
When I looked around me, I felt we had reached a different world
altogether. Whoever has travelled by road from Jammu to Srinagar, will recall
the amazing view that greets you when you exit the tunnel. Everything looks
different and feels different. I was coming this way after nearly five years
and my excitement knew no bounds. We had crossed the entire Pir Panchal range
and reached Kashmir. From the tunnel it is a downhill drive of about 8
kilometers up to Qazigund and this drive is fantastic. As we started going
towards the plains, a breathtaking view greeted us. It seemed as if the entire
valley of Kashmir lay in front of us. We could see the paddy fields, trees of
various types and everything was green. It is difficult for me to describe this;
you have to see it for yourself to enjoy the beauty of it all! The beauty of
the plains was enhanced by the mountains in the backdrop, some of the mountain
tops were covered with snow. No wonder Kashmir has been called a heaven on
earth! I wanted to stop for a while, get out of the car and absorb the beauty
of the marvelous sight below. I made a suggestion to Bhaisahab but it was
immediately turned down.
“
Are you a fool? Do you want get us killed? Now we will stop only when we reach
our house and not before that. Is that clear?”
“Absolutely,
Bhaisahab” I said meekly, almost in mock surrender. It took us about half an
hour to reach Qazigund.We were now in the plains and no more hill driving now.
Bittu,
do you remember the egg parathas of this place? They are delicious”
“I
remember very well, Bhaisahab, we normally used to have breakfast here while
going to Jammu”
“Don’t
you think we should have at least one paratha?”
“Come
on, Bhaisahab, we cannot stop now until we reach our house. This place could be
dangerous. It was you who declared that we would not stop anywhere on the way,
didn’t you?”
“I
don’t see any dangerous looking characters around here; they are all our fellow
Kashmiris. Why be scared? Rasool, stop the car at the nearest dhabba”. The very
thought of food seemed to make Bhisahab
forget all fear.
We
entered an eatery and ordered three parathas. While the parathas were being
made, I looked around me, looked at the market outside. Everything looked
normal, people were busy with their daily routine and I could not see any signs
of fear on anyone’s face. The security forces were also few and far between. I
felt I had reached home. A man came and placed parathas in front of us.
Bhaisahab was the first one to start eating. Rasool and I took our time. We
knew Bhaisahb would not be satisfied with just one so it was better to eat
slowly. Our assumption was right. Bhaisahb asked for one more and also had a third
one. I thought Bhaisahb had a special liking for the number three. He had three
plates of Paneer pakoras at Nandni, three plates of Rajama Chawal at Peedah and
now three parathas out here. He got up with a huge belch and asked for the
bill. I started taking out my wallet, knowing I would have to make the payment
but to my utter surprise, Bhaisahb footed the bill
“Don’t
worry about the money, Bittu, you just enjoy yourself” This time I winked at
Rasool.
“Jenab
we must leave now, it is nearly 6, have to reach before nightfall” it was Rasool
at his politest best.
“You
are right Rasool, I was about to say the same. I never wanted to stop here but
I thought Bittu should enjoy the parathas of this place .As for me, I have such
parathas almost every day” I thought it prudent not to make any comments. We entered
the car and started the last leg of our journey.
The
road from Qazigund to Srinagar was almost a straight one, no curves, no bends.
We crossed Khanbal and saw a lot of army activity there. We were not stopped.
Rassol was now driving at almost 80 kilometers an hour. I thought Bhaisahab
would ask him to slow down but he had gone into his deep slumber again. I was
sure if Bhaisahab’s stomach was full, he would never need any sleeping pills. I
was enjoying the view on both sides of the road. The sun was still shining and
the water in the paddy fields sparkled. There were men and women working in the
fields, children were playing and everybody was having fun. Kashmir was the
same as ever. On the way we crossed the historical town of Awantipura, there
were ruins of a Buddhist structure in that town. We passed Pampore, the place
where saffron is grown. Soon we were in the outskirts of Srinagar. All around
us there was serenity and peace, no trace of anything being wrong.
And
then we reached the cantonment area of Badami Bagh. There were soldiers on both
sides of the road, I could see some bunkers also with armed men pointing their
guns at the road, only their heads and arms were visible, I shouldn’t say heads
but helmets. I had seen such scenes in war movies but never in real life. I had
an eerie feeling. We seemed to have entered a war zone. This was not the
Kashmir I remembered or the Kashmir where I had spent most of my life.
Suddenly
Rasool applied the brakes and our car came to a screeching halt. Seven or eight
army men surrounded us and asked us to get down. We had no alternative but to obey.
Then took place a thorough checking of the car, even our suitcases were not
spared. After having satisfied themselves, they approached us. Bhaisahab was
almost crouching behind me.
“May
I have your names and I.D.”? A subedar asked but not politely. It was more of
an order than a request.
“Please
sir, let us go, our parents are waiting for us, they are very old and need us
badly” Bhaisahab was almost supplicating in his tone.
“What
are your names?” Since Bhaisahab seemed to have lost his voice, it was I who
replied and gave him all the information he desired.
“His
name is Rasool, he is our driver and has worked for us for the last 15 years” I
said, pointing towards Rasool. I did not want to see him subjected to the same
treatment which he had been subjected to earlier. The subedar looked at Rasool
and then at us. We waited for him to say something. Finally, he said, to our
great relief,
“Right,
you people can go”
The
moment we drove off, Bhaisahb started speaking. He had re-discovered his lost
voice.
“I
had told you nothing would happen, you were needlessly afraid. Did you see the
way I talked to that armywalla? That is the way to deal with them, don’t act
like cowards.” Under normal
circumstances, I would have laughed out loud but I was in no mood to be funny.
What I had seen had shocked me beyond repair. I had never imagined that instead
of entering my beloved Srinagar, I would be stepping into a warzone.
“Anymore
stoppages ahead, Rasool?”
“No,
Sahab, not now”
Our
house was in Karan Nagar, a supposedly posh colony. It was 7.30 but not dark.
We passed Amira Kadal,I noticed that most of the shops were closed. Another
thing which I could not fail to observe was the bunkers. They seemed to be popping
out of every corner. The sight scared me.
We went past the Secretariat and within 5 minutes we were in Karan
Nagar. Rasool was about to enter the lane which led to our house, a group of
men appeared from nowhere and waved us to a halt.
“Get
down, all of you” They shouted in unison. I wondered what was in store for us
now!!
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