Who is she,Part38

Part 38

Babuji started moving towards the door, each step that he took towards the door was taken in a hesitant manner  as though he was not sure what he was up to .It was obvious he did not know where to go and how to find Khalid. Where was he thinking of going? There was a curfew outside. When stopped, what explanation would he give to the security forces?  They would, of course not, treat him the way they 

had treated me but they would certainly stop him from going anywhere. They would ask him very politely to go back to his home. Under these circumstances how was it possible for him to locate Khalid or get any information of his whereabouts?

“Babuji, the army people will not let you go anywhere, so what is the point in going out?” I said.

“To hell with these army wallas, they have made life difficult for us. Instead of solving problems, they only aggravate them. Don’t you worry, Bittuji, they will not say anything to me. All the officers and soldiers on duty in this area know me very well. I will go to their commanding officer and ask him if they have any news of Khalid. They also know him very well.”

“If they know him well, why had that captain come in the morning with those ridiculous allegations against him? I am sure the same officer must have taken him away as he had threatened to do in the morning.” I said, my temper flaring up a little as I recalled the events of the morning.

“He must have been posted here recently; I don’t remember having seen him earlier. That is why he was not aware of the facts. He must have become angry at the way Khalid intervened to save you in the morning and must have cooked up a plan to teach him a lesson. One should never trust the police, they are brutes, I tell you!”

“Babuji, you are yourself saying these security forces cannot be trusted, then why are you taking the risk of venturing out?”

“What else do you expect me to do? Should I sit at home and keep twiddling my thumbs while they beat up Khalid to a pulp? I have to do something to save him, I have to, I have to…I can’t let anything happen to him, he has been like a son to us, in fact, more than a son, all my sons left but he did not leave us. I must do something, I must, I must…!” Babuji was muttering to himself now, he had not opened the door as yet; he had started pacing up and down the corridor. He was unsure of how he should proceed. Amma was standing at door of the baithak and trying to stop her tears from flowing down her cheeks.

These old and helpless people were truly attached to Khalid. They loved him dearly. Khalid had been in the house for God knows how long. I did not have any memories of my childhood without Khalid being a part of them. I was told Babuji had brought him to work for us much before my birth. He had served my uncles, aunts and all other members of this large family. Not a day would pass without his getting a scolding from someone or the other but he was never the one to complain. I was reminded of an incident when Khalid had received a severe tongue lashing from my father. He had stood there silently with his head bowed and had not even bothered to give an explanation, not cared to tell Lalaji that he had not done what he was accused of having done. I was a witness to the whole scene, I was about ten years old at that time, and I distinctly recollect having a strong urge to hit my father with whatever I could lay my hands on because I knew Khalid was being subjected to injustice and I could not tolerate injustice then as I could not tolerate it now. At that time I was unable to say or do anything. I had gone to Babuji and told him everything. Babuji had a heart to heart talk with Khalid, put his arm around his shoulders and made him understand that Lalaji was not a bad soul; his only fault was he could not control his temper. Khalid hardly needed to be pacified since he did not look hurt at all.

This was the man we were all worried about and why shouldn’t we be? I felt very guilty. Had I not been fond of katlams, Khalid would not have gone out. He took the risk of stepping out of the house because he wanted his dear Bittuji to have his favourite katlams. Why had we not been more insistent on stopping him?

“I will go and talk to the Major. He knows me well and he will surely help me.”

“But how will you find him, Babuji?”

“Bittu, the army has set up its headquarters in Karan Nagar in a house nearby. The house belongs to the Mozas, do you remember the Mozas?”  I certainly remembered the Mozas, I used to play cricket with their son. “The house was vacant since the whole Moza family has left like the others. The army occupied the house, pulled down the boundary walls, dug up bunkers all around and barricaded all the lanes leading to the house. No one can go there without permission but they will let me in, as they know who I am” .These last words seemed to give Babuji a sense of satisfaction, a feeling of self importance.

“Let me come with you Babuji” I pleaded, knowing  fully well, he would not agree.

“No, you stay here with Amma, I will not take long”. Babuji went out of the door, onto the verandah and then out of the main gate.

‘’Let’s sit outside in the lawn and wait from him there”, Amma said. It was around quarter to six, the evening was very pleasant, as evenings in Srinagar generally are, particularly in the month of August. A few chairs would always be there in the lawn and I could spot five chairs and a small table. I took Amma by the hand and helped her down the few stairs of the verandah, leading to the lawn. I made her sit down first. She was trembling all over. I felt very sorry for her, sorry for her that she had to face all this at her age, sorry for her that she had been left all alone, sorry for her because the woman who had lived like a queen all her life had no one to look after her now! The world had become a very selfish place; people were obsessed with their selves and nothing else. Why should an old couple have to live alone in this manner? Where had all those people gone whom Amma had served her whole life?  I might have my own selfish motive in making these remarks but it was a fact that both Babuji and Amma had devoted their lives to the family. They had never discriminated between their own sons and daughters and their nieces and nephews ,treating everyone equally. Such pious souls deserved to live in comfort at this stage; they needed to have their kith and kin around them. But what was the kind of life they were leading? When Amma should have been ordering for the food to be served, it was she who had to do the cooking and Khalid was her only help. Tears started rolling down my cheeks as I thought of their pathetic plight.

Whom should I blame for their condition? Who was responsible for a couple, who were nearing their eighties, for having to lead a life like this? My father had left Kashmir in the sixties because it was the demand of his job. Of all the people in the family, he was the only one who had taken up a job with The Central Government of India. All the other working members of the family had been employees of the state government, of the P.W.D. in particular. They could have easily stayed back in Kashmir. What had been their compulsion to leave? Most of my relatives had left the house much before the present trouble started. They had got themselves transferred out of Srinagar and out of the house. I recalled snatches of conversations which I used to hear, mind you, I was no eavesdropper, and when I put everything together I realized that the wives did not want to live in a joint family. They must have had their own problems, which was not possible for me to understand at that time. All I could gather from whatever little I used to hear was that everyone wanted to live independently and so they left. The others, who had stayed behind, succumbed to fear and went away, not sparing a thought for Babuji and Amma , leaving them to fend for themselves.

As I was lost in my musings, I noticed that Amma’s eyes were completely focused on the gate. She had not spoken a single word since Babuji had left and I doubt if she had even blinked once while continuously staring at the gate. Earlier it was the absence of Khalid that had bothered her and now Babuji had added to her woes.

“Amma, don’t worry. Babuji will come back and bring Khalid along. You just relax”.

“How can I relax, you don’t know what has been happening in Kashmir lately. I have no interest in politics so I don’t know why all this is happening. All I know is that Pundits have left, they tell me the Muslims were responsible for their leaving but I don’t believe that. Papaji left along with his family, I tried my best to stop them but they said,if they didn’t leave they would be killed. Your granduncle, Gasha also left along with his family. Babuji made all efforts to persuade them to stay but they also said the same, they would be killed by the Muslims. Tell, me Bittiji, why should the Muslims want to kill us? We have lived together for years and years,;some of our best friends are Muslims. Why would they suddenly turn into our enemies? One thing more, Bittuji, in all these months, not a single Muslim has come to our house and threatened us in any way. They all love us Bittuji, they are not our enemies. Somebody has cast an evil eye on  our beloved Kashmir”.I was listening to Amma  with rapt attention, mesmerized by her words of earthy wisdom ,when the gate crashed open Khalid stumbled in. He was hardly able to stand. There was blood all over his face; there was blood on his pheran and when I rushed towards him, I could see that he was bleeding all over. His face had been bruised and battered;drops of blood kept rolling down his body and onto the floor.

“Hai Khudaya,morhos ha” [Oh God they have killed me) He cried out and collapsed on the ground just near the stairs of the verandah. The sight made me sick, I felt like vomiting but I managed to control myself. Who were the barbarians who had beaten him up so cruelly and mercilessly?