Part 40
But Babuji did not come. We waited and waited. I made many
visits to the gate, looked up and down the road, but no sign of anyone, no sign
of the person I wanted to see walking towards the house. What could have gone
wrong? From what Khalid had said, the
army had tried to browbeat Babuji into
acceding to their request or should I say command? The army did not want Babuji
to have any truck with the Muslims. The remark by the major that all the
Muslims who visited the house were spies was totally farcical. Babuji had known
these people for years and years, some of them had been his colleagues, some of
them were his close friends. What was the army’s purpose in all this? As a
matter of fact, I was unable to grasp the army’s motive of torturing Khalid. It
was all very confusing. Everything that I had seen so far was beyond my
comprehension. When I came to Srinagar, I had very little idea of what was
wrong. My involvement with Anita had shut my eyes to what had been going on in
the outside world. The terrorism in Punjab had also not affected me much as my
heart was completely love stricken and this love had conquered the fear of
getting killed at the hands of the terrorists. In a way, I had lived the last
five years of my life, completely shut in my own ivory tower, unaware of what
was happening outside. This visit to Kashmir had made me take my first steps,
very reluctant steps, out of the tower of my own making. And now, here I was,
facing a situation I was not remotely familiar with.
I was sure Babuji would never surrender before the Indian
army. He was a tough nut to crack, a man of great character. He was renowned
for his mental strength. Everyone loved and admired him. He had always stood by
his friends, helped them in the hour of their need. I admit, he had not been
honest as far as his job went. He was committed to his work but not averse to
having his palms greased but this was not considered a negative trait, on the
contrary not taking bribes was supposed to be abnormal. Apart from this
weakness, Babuji had been a man of unimpeachable character. What could the army
do with him? They had been merciless with Khalid because for them he was a
nobody. They could not afford to treat Babuji in a similar manner. He was a
well known person, having retired from the P.W.D. as an
Executive engineer which was quite a senior post in the department. If a hair
of Babuji was hurt, it would make news all over Kashmir and discredit the army.
Moreover, Babuji’s faith was also an important factor. In the past couple of
days I had become enlightened to the fact that the forces were unsympathetic
towards the Mulims but did not harm the Kashmiri Pundits. I had already seen a
few examples of this blatant discrimination and no one would ever be able to
convince me of the secular nature of the Indian army, secular my foot!
Amma was still sitting by Khalid’s side, she had not moved
from her place. She kept on talking to Khalid, stroking his wounded face gently
and at the same time kept on asking me whether Babuji had come. She was worried
about Khalid’s condition, she felt his pain but she did not seem to be worried
about Babuji. She had told me Babuji had
a habit of always coming home before dark and although it was nearing nine now,
she acted as if she knew Babuji would be coming home soon. Suddenly she got up
and headed for the kitchen, saying that she start preparing for dinner, Babuji
would be hungry by the time he came back. She sounded perfectly normal but I
wondered if behaving in this manner under such circumstances was normal? Any
other woman would have been hysterical by now but Amma had nerves of steel.
Khalid had fallen off to sleep. His breathing was normal;
the painkiller was having its effect. He would mumble something from time to
time and also groan with pain but there was no doubt in my mind that the worst
was over for him, at least, for the present. All my thoughts were now focused
on Babuji. To say that I was worried would be making an understatement. The
worst part of it all was I did not know where to go for help. The families I
knew had all disappeared, I mean, they had all left. All the neighbours whom I
had been very close to, had left for unknown destinations. Our next door neighbor
was a Muslim, I knew him very well not only him but all his family. I had
broken many a window pane of his house with my ferocious hitting but he had
never once reprimanded me. I could go to him but I did not want him to get
mixed up in all this. I would be putting him to trouble if I did and that I did
not want. I was in desperate need of some psychological help, some consolation.
I wanted somebody who would at least be near me, somebody elder to me ;
somebody more mature than me. What was wrong if I went across to Abdul Sahab’s
house and apprised him of the latest developments? I convinced myself that
there was nothing wrong and the next moment I was standing at the door of Abdul
Sahab’s house and ringing the bell. Abdul Sahab himself opened the door; there
was a look of suppressed fear on his face, quite understandable. Everyone
seemed to be living in fear out here, an emotion we had been total strangers to
when I was in school. How things had changed, how Kashmir had changed!
“Bittuji, is everything alright?” His words were a whisper
as if he was afraid someone would overhear us. The question was perfectly
logical.
“No, sir, nothing is alright”. Then I opened up and told him
everything, I started crying, tears rolled down my face, all my pent up
emotions burst forth. I had controlled myself in front of Amma, tried to put up
a façade of bravery but I was no hero and I was only twenty two years old!
Abdul Sir hugged me tightly, went inside, said something to his wife and she
also followed. I remembered her name, it was Sayeeda. She was in her early
fifties, very pretty and graceful as most Kashmiri women are, but the most
important part of her personality was her affectionate heart. I had not
forgotten the Kashmiri delicacies she would specially make for me. Those ristas
and goshtabas which she used to make were some of the most delicious I had ever
had. As I recalled the taste, my mouth started watering even at the time of
such intense stress. Sayeeda also gave me a warm hug, saying that she had
wanted to come and see me but had not been able to because of some reason or
the other. She said, she would have definitely come the next day.
As the three of us entered the living room, Amma had once
again occupied the same place by Khalid’s side. Khalid had not woken up yet.
The moment Amma saw us, she could not control herself and started weeping but
silently, conscious that Khalid would be disturbed.
“Look Sayeeda, what have they done? What had poor Khalid
done to them to deserve this?” Sayeeda sat near Amma and gave her a sideways
hug. Abdul Sahab told me to let the ladies alone and took me to the baithak. We
had forgotten to switch on the lights of the room; it was in complete darkness
just like our minds and hearts. I switched on the lights and as I did so I was
again reminded of the movies in which the switching on of the lights would symbolize the end of
all troubles but no such miracle took place here. Abdul sahib held my hand and
made me sit down, he put a bolster behind my back and sat down in front of me.
“I know what you must have gone through so you must relax.
Don’t worry, now that I am here, I will take care of everything” his words were
very comforting and I started crying again. It seemed that all the emotions
which I had kept suppressed the whole day, had finally found an outlet.
“Now tell me all the details, everything that happened since
the morning” and I told him everything, did not hold back anything. He heard me
out patiently, did not say a word, just nodded or shook his head now and then.
“I can understand why they were angry with Khalid, they did
not like his interference when they were beating you up. Why subject him to
this torture, what was the necessity of that? I don’t believe they really
suspected Khalid of being a spy. Some sick officer with a sick mind must have
thought of this sick way of taking revenge. Whether it is the police or the
army, they do not like civilians crossing their paths and if anyone does, they
hit back with terrific ferocity, as you have seen for yourself”.
“Khalid had the temerity to ask them to stop beating me up
so they took their revenge but what about Babuji, what has he done, why have
they held him, why aren’t they letting him go?”
“That is something which I am also not able to understand
but as I think about what you just told me, I am beginning to see the logic
behind their action. Look, Bittuji, you have not been here for a long time. You
are familiar with the Kashmir of your childhood days when the only kind of
violence we would
hear
of was kaney jung”. kaney jung was a fight with stones. Whenever there used to
be a bitter fight between two groups, they would throw stones at one another,
hardly anyone would get hurt. The use of a knife or a dagger was unheard of and
guns were only seen in movies.
“Now everything has changed, stones have been replaced by
guns, there are the guns of some misguided youth and there are the guns of the
army”. Abdul Sahab continued.
“Abdul Sahab ,why did the youth take to guns and why were
Kashmiri Pundits forced to leave?”
“The answer to these questions is not simple, son. Kashmiris
have never considered themselves to be Indians; this was the case from the beginning.
In the last couple of years the demand for independence became vociferous and
processions were taken out, demanding Independence. Some fanatic Kashmiri
groups tried to create an atmosphere of fear among the Pundits in various ways.
Many Pundits were killed. The fear became too much for the Pundits to bear and
they decided to leave in order to stay alive. The government did not do
anything to stop them, the government didn’t even try, it was
as if they wanted the Pundits to leave. Since then we have not had a moment of
peace. The security forces have killed many people, firing indiscriminately at
unarmed protesters”. He was telling me all this very slowly so that I could
understand whatever he was saying clearly. Suddenly, I heard the sound of the
gate opening. We both rushed out and all we could see in the dark was a figure
which looked like the figure of Babuji but the walk was slow and labored, he was
trying to hold on to the wall of the house for support. Abdul Sahab was the
first to reach him. I stood rooted to the ground, boiling with impotent rage!
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