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NO EXIT

AREEBA NASIR

No ExitBy

Areeba Nasiraribanasir@gmail.com

First published, 2012

Copyright © Areeba Nasir

This is a work of fiction. The characters in it are all fictional. Names characters, places, incidents

either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Liberties have been taken

with places and institutions. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead is

entirely coincidental.

All Rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any

form or by any means, electronics, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the written

permission of the publisher.

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of

this work.

Published By Pigeon Books India An Imprint of

gbd booksI-2/16, Ansari Road, Daryaganj, New Delhi- 110002, India.

generalbookdepot@yahoo.com www.goyalbookshop.com

Ph. 9810229648, 9312286851.

Cover painting by: Parvin Shere. Printed at: Saurabh Printers

pvt ltd

“Holding a pen was a better option than rubble, my heart did not allow me

to waste my short and precious life pelting stones. I never considered the

ones on the street with half covered faces wrong, they did what they

thought to be appropriate in order to gain back the lost rights and freedom

but my way was different from theirs, difference was in our weapons, they

had a stone, I had a pen”

PREFACE

“You have come from India” asked a shikara owner when I told him

that I lived in Delhi. That time of ignorance and immaturity did not

allow me to comprehend the grave reason behind the man’s statement.

Rather than confusing me his words became a source of

amusement and I ended up mocking at his ignorance who didn’t even

know that Kashmir was an Indian state.

Today the words no longer tickle me or make me laugh because the

curtains of illiteracy and unawareness have been drawn. I feel the

enormous amount of pain in the voice of that shikara owner now that I

have been acquainted with the reality.

This book doesn’t play a blame game, it doesn’t lead to any sort of

conclusion rather it is left on the reader to decide what is right and what

is wrong. It’s not against the struggle of Kashmiris to get back what

they have lost, the only purpose of this work is to make people aware of

the human rights violation in the valley, the extremely ruthless and

difficult life middle class Kashmiri families are living. I repeatedly

mention “middle class” because they are the ones who have been

suffering the most.

The dreams of Ruslaan are the dreams homed in the eyes of every

other boy. Amidst the turmoil and hatred there is a bunch which

wants peace and wishes to live life as normal as any other human

Being. Ruslaan is not a utopian figure, he is hiding in every other human

who deserves to be contended and happy. Nearly half of the Indian

population and to some extent residents of other countries are not aware

of what exactly is going on in the so called paradise of earth. People

believe it breeds terrorism, youngsters spend their days pelting stones,

women keep on beating their breast, groan and shout slogans but no one

pays heed to their shattered dreams, broken hearts and tear laden eyes.

God created one earth now that we humans have drawn black crooked

lines on the globe it’s better that we throw that pen before it engraves

those lines on our hearts. First the religion divided humans and then

region. Wars and conflicts are man-made and will continue to destroy

humanity till the last breath of the last man on the planet, world will

become a better place if we stop dividing ourselves. A Muslim will love a

Christian and a Kashmiri will love a Delhiite.

Areeba Nasir aribanasir@gmail.com

PART ONE

Chapter I

Call for namaz snatched me out of slumber, it was cold and gloomy

outdoors so I had to lock the window. Abbu and Bhaiya went to the masjid,

my drowsiness didn’t allow the limbs to walk a mile in the fierce weather

ultimately I postulated before my Lord at home. Mouji was busy reciting

Quran in the next room while Didi went back to bed post her prayers.

After namaz I crawled to Mouji,

“Can I get some kahwa,” I asked.

“Are you in your senses my child, this is no time to drink kahwa, go sleep

and let me recite.”

Disheartened I went to bed tried to pull the blue blanket which was

beneath Ruqbaan, efforts to pull it failed, aggravating my annoyance.

Somewhere I learnt that mass of the body increases when it goes to

semiconscious state, Ruqbaan seemed like a giant therefore I could not

mobilise him, neither did my twin slaps . He was getting on my nerves. I

gently placed my feet on his waist and applied all my strength to propel the

carcass, the other moment cold wooden floor was his bed, at last the

blanket gained freedom from the tyrant ruler. He got up scratching all over

which did frighten me but fortunately he failed to understand the cause of

his great fall, I thanked God for that. It was five and I had to wake up just

when the minute hand of the clock returns back to twelve, to go to school.

Sticking eyeballs to the tree outside the dilapidated window opposite my

bed I began to brush up my text, I was in tenth standard and studying was

something I cherished. It was a mix of blue and grey outside, hearing the

birds chirping was peaceful, slowly slowly the sun dropped the night gown

it had adorned while going to sleep. Science test which waited for me at

school caused insomnia. Although I loved studying but thought of exam

brought jitters in my body. Suddenly there was a bang on the door

“wath thod Ruslaan else you will be late for sakool,” Mouji shouted.

At once I jumped out of the bed, nervous for the test ran as a squirrel to

the ghusalkhana. Mouji was shocked

“Allah reham how come this lad got up at once without making me roar like a

lion,” Mouji cried out.

I loved humming Bollywood songs in the bathroom. The water was

freezing, all thanks to Abbu who bought a second hand geyser else I would

have turned into a saadhu meditating with layers of dirt. Bhaiya stood

outside bawling and rattling the weak wooden door if it would have been

open my slaughtering was obvious. He worked as a news reporter for a

local news channel, a submissive person and gem of my mother’s eyes.

“Come out you jerk, I am getting late,” Bhaiya shouted on top of his lungs

making my thrashing certain, thusly I refrained from coming out.

I peeped from the small hole in the door he was standing outside red in

rage. It’s not that I was a coward but lacked courage when it came to face

the tyrant, I waited for him to move from that place but he won’t move

and continued shouting and making a fuss, suddenly an idea bumped into

my head. I opened the window of the bathroom took the wiper and

stroked it against the window of the toilet which was adjacent to the

bathroom. It was cacophonous just like the bomb blasts of the valley. I

peeped out of the hole again Bhaiya was no more over there giving me the

opportunity to escape from the demon.

Everyone was having breakfast in the living room when suddenly Bhaiya

entered all puzzled.

“What was it?” He asked squeezing his eyes.

“What?” I asked.

“That noise while you were in the bathroom?”

“How would I know I was inside?” I answered looking in my plate.

“Yeah how would you know, but still what was it?”

I had never seen Bhaiya so confused. I was dying to laugh my heart out but

I loved my life.

“Let it be son, eat your breakfast, you are getting late,” said Mouji.

“I’m already late because of this Ruslaan,” He said staring at me with killer

eyes.

“What do you do in the bathroom,” he asked.

“ What you do,” I replied.

“Now both of you stop this bathroom discussion and mind your own

business,” scolded Mouji.

Bhaiya took his leave with a hint of agitation and bemusement while Didi

and Ruqbaan giggled. Didi was the second child and Ruqbaan was the

youngest. Bhaiya who was named Ghulam Nabi, the servant of the Prophet

had to quit studies soon after he completed his eleventh and joined the

news channel. It was local news channel so not much qualifications were

required, fluency in Kashmiri and knowledge of Urdu were the only

criterion. Urdu was taught at school and Kashmiri was the mother language

so Bhaiya was eligible for the job. I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my

mouth. Abu owned a watch repairing shop at Lal chowk. It didn’t earn us

lot of bucks as a result more often there was shortage of money so Bhaiya

decided to take up the job and became the spine of our family.

I swallowed the breakfast hurriedly to proceed towards the school with

Ruqbaan. I had often heard about the militant groups but never tried to

know more about them. I was contended with my life but yes sometimes

certain questions did strike the matter under the skull however never

bothered to find an answer to them. It was a pleasant day, both of us

walked to school every day, we weren’t the Richie rich’s who were

accompanied by the security guards. Mouths declared that it was a bad time

for Kashmir, the declaration hardly altered my thoughts. I loved my place,

and in one of the books I had read Mughal Emperor Jahangir’s response to

the beauty of the valley

"if there is paradise on earth,

it is here, it is here, it is here".

I felt proud reading it, but was it really a paradise...I reached school. All

along the way I was so lost in thinking about the valley that I forgot about

the ghastly test. Sir entered the class with a bundle of question papers in his

hand.

“Assalamalaikum Sir,” We all sang, it sounded like a monotonous song.

I was a bright student loved science but due to the prevailing condition of

Kashmir often the school remained closed for weeks. Sir distributed the

question papers.

"Bismillah Irrahmaan Nirrahim," I never missed the recitation, my only hope

to fare well in the exam. I began answering the question paper, the paper

wasn’t creepy it was a respite.

Someone pinched me hard from the back, it was Reyaz my best friend and

my neighbour.

"What is it?" I whispered

"Show me answer number two," he murmured.

Me and Reyaz met when we were five and ever since nothing distanced us.

Reyaz's father Wamiq uncle was the owner of a beautiful shikara 'Noorjehan'.

His mother choti maasi died in a blast at Lal Chowk. We all got over the

emotional malady except Reyaz. The horrendous incident rattled him and

he isolated himself.

Sir saw Reyaz pinching me, immediately he was sent out of doors. Poor

thing had to attempt his paper outside the class. As the bell rang I sighed in

relief, the feeling was no less than winning a battle, examination hall turns

to a battlefield if the question paper seems alien.

Reyaz was standing outside the school gate, his teary eyes staring the boy

being fed by his mother. The worst part of choti maasi’s death was Reyaz's

presence, he witnessed her tear into pieces.I pressed his shoulder "Kyo gai.”

wiping his tears secretly he answered "kehin na, how was your paper.”

"Just fine," I smiled and we marched back home.

Reyaz was once a fun filled boy, full of life and excitement but his mother's

tragic end robbed him of the fun, he would only talk about death, revenge,

terrorists and ways to get to them. Throughout Reyaz didn't utter a single

word.

Chapter II

We reached home, the air outside the house was filled with delicious smell

“Something special was being cooked,” I ran swiftly to see what was so

special about the day. Mouji was peeping in the karahi.

"Assalamalaikum," I said cheerfully "What’s the menu for today?"

"Rista," Mouji replied putting the onions in the boiling oil, cracking sound

and the smell choked me I left the kitchen. Reyaz was peacefully sitting on

the carpet. I moved ahead to reach him when suddenly Didi came shouting

"Ruslaan, Ruslaan, guess what?" she asked happily.

"What you are getting married, yippee, finally I'll be at peace," I teased.

"shut up," she hit me hard on my head “Boba is coming idiot," she

continued.

I was thrilled to hear that, Boba my grandmother the sole human being who

trusted me and believed that I’ll be something big. Grandmothers are called

daed but we were unique kids imitating our father and uncles we too began

calling the old lady Boba. She resided in Pampore, a small village on the

outskirts of the big city Srinagar. My family lived with Boba earlier but

Abu's work forced them to shift to Srinagar. I wasn’t a small town boy like

my brother and Didi, I was born in Srinagar.

Boba shared her house with my father’s elder brother. Grandpa was a

fairytale for me. I knew him, saw him in pictures but never felt his

presence. He departed much before I arrived. The cancer cells became the

reason for his early departure. One of my uncles lived in Delhi, ten years

ago he moved to the city of dreams.

Reyaz was still in the same position.

"Are you cemented?" I asked

"What?" he gave me an agitated look.

Reyaz's lachrymal behaviour never annoyed me. I still recall those happy

moments sometimes in isolation, the time of innocence, hilarity and gaiety,

when we both were benighted and ignorant, was much fun. Long hours

were spent stooping on the Dal walls plotting mischiefs. We would climb

the huge shalimar bagh walls to avoid tickets, no one had the money to buy

them. The day we both plucked cherries and sold them to the tourists was

still fresh in my mind, the hard earned money was spent lavishly feasting in

Mughal Darbar at Residency Road. Everything was just perfect and the way it

ought to be, who knew a black wind of disasters will ruin his childhood. He

wanted to fly high in the sky leaving behind the proudy birds and superior

clouds but the pilot dreams lay into pieces. He failed to move on, stationed

on the spot at Lal Chowk mourning at maasi's death. My numerous

attempts to bring mobility in his life and get him out of that appalling

incident failed. I believed that time will heal his wounds and Allah will give

us our cheerful Reyaz back.

"Mouji has cooked Rista," I tried to pull him out of his thoughts. His fake

smile hurt me. Dress was changed for the lunch, I could not resist and sat

down to eat unconcerned for Boba while others obediently waited for her

arrival and Reyaz went to his den to hide from the world. We all waited for

Boba anxiously, Ruqbaan would often go to the door peep outside and

then return.

Soon both of them could be seen at the end of the street. Me and Ruqbaan

went shouting "Assalamaliakum Boba."

She felt delighted "walekumassalam miyan shuru," embraced both of us. I

took the bag from Abu's hand and ran towards the house.

"Boba is here," I updated Mouji and Didi. Boba visited us after a long

time. I always enjoyed her company, her stories and goofy incidents were a

source of entertainment. Mouji and Didi welcomed her.

"What made you return so late," inquired Mouji secretly.

"Ohh! there were checkposts all over, had to stop so many times," Abbu

explained

"hunh! Allah knows when will we move freely without getting frisked," said

annoyed Mouji.

Military people were a group of men born to trouble us, no one could walk

without hassles, at every mile there was a check post which employed

jawans who searched each passerby, their suspicion forced us to hate them.

Consequently for most part of the day the mass preferred staying at home.

Life wasn’t really easy when in Kashmir.

I placed my bums besides Boba, she smelled of cloves and cardamoms and

wore a phiran.

"Why phiran in summers Boba?" I asked her doubtedly.

"Why water heater even in summers?" she replied with an evil smile. I

laughed it off. Boba resembled a strawberry, her white wrinkled face and

red polka dots scarf justified my comparison. We all were glad to have her

with us.

Apple of Boba's eye entered the house. Just a glimpse of bhaiya lightened

Boba, her face emitted happiness. Bhaiya was loved and cared more in

comparison to us, he was the first grandchild. He was delighted to see her,

after embraces and rain of all sorts of lovely words finally we all sat down

to have tea and kulcha.

Chapter III

Bhaiya and Abbu backtracked home before sun bid adieu, evening walks

weren’t allowed in Kashmir. Mouji and Abbu often told it wasn’t safe to

loiter at night. The military might confuse us to be terrorists and fake

encounters were a daily routine. The shopkeepers preferred to stop the

sales after sunset, some areas were deprived of street lights, not a single

soul was found on the streets, and it seemed that mankind was extinct.

Cars without the head and tail lights were a common sight, it wasn’t that

the companies manufactured special models for Kashmir, at night even the

car lights were turned off. It was scary at times. Although we were leading

lives as normal as the ones residing in any corner of the world still there

was so much of unusualness and uncertainties that haunted us day and

night. Our daily household tasks included frisking by the military groups,

abduction of any young men, and fear of any calamity.

We always prayed that those who left their dens returned home safely.

Mouji counted hours when Abbu and Bhaiya would leave home and sighed

in relief only when they have entered the house premises. Bhaiya told me

once that whenever he left home there was ambivalence whether

everything will be fine or not, will he return safely?. All this restricted our

lives.

I washed my hands in the tashnaari, but Boba rinsed as well that was a bit

disgusting. No wonder just like the typical daughter in laws Mouji often got

irritated by certain habits of Boba. She chewed betel leaf entire day like a

buffalo, spitting the red juice in the corners and making the house look

sicker. After the lavish food phirni was served which lighted bulbs in Didi’s

eyes, I saw her gobble the whole bowl and stand in the queue again for

another one. Mouji refrained from giving her any.

“I don’t want you to bloat like your Bua,” Mouji said.

Bua my father’s youngest sister lived at Anantnaag, her extreme weight was a

matter of concern for the family. Poor lady was abandoned by her fanatic

husband who deserted his family for the love of his land, he was believed

to have joined hands with some group fighting for Independence. Bua’s

financial conditioned deteriorated. At times Abu’s support would relieve

her of the albatross but the ones who themselves are dwelling in crisis can

never be the backbone of others. Wrong decision of a single soul ruins the

lives of those who depend.

Boba was valued for her tales, I wouldn’t leave her alone unless she has

narrated a couple of humorous and goofy stories though at times they were

completely senseless but her expressions and tone were something to die

for. Bhaiya came forth with the horrifying news of blast in Pahalgam. The

sad water wetted Boba’s eyes and cheeks

“Ya Allah what is becoming of our paradise,” she said sadly.

Again the word paradise perplexed me Boba was the right person who

could explain the whole story behind the word paradise. I was quiet sure

that the meaning of paradise was something more than just the beauty of

the place. She gave a sketchy description of the valley prior to the turmoil,

the land rich in culture and tradition, apart from its blessed beauty and

luxuriant meadows the smiles and pleasure were the gems. People were not

introduced to military and everyday blasts, every soul flew freely along with

the wind, swiftly here and there challenging the streams. Boba’s words

seemed false, it was tough for me to imagine because ever since I came to

my senses I had experienced it to be a suffocating chamber dwelling death

and despair. Often Boba’s tales worked as lullaby for me but her snoring

was like bombardment. Entire night I fought with the pillow and cursed

myself for the decision of sleeping beside Boba, I could sleep only when

she woke up for her morning prayers.

No matter what happened Boba never missed her early morning stroll. I

always wished I was into such healthy habits but laziness dominated me.

The hot cup of tea cooked my fingers but Boba couldn’t be found

anywhere indoors or outdoors, disturbance in the huge wild bush with

yellow flowers growing on the left side of my house addled me forcing to

peep beyond and think that the restless bush was fighting with some huge

animal. But no huge mammals were ever seen in the colony, our street was

ruled by few dogs and at times sheep came to pay a visit. Ferreting in the

bush laden with spikes as well, I found out that it was occupied by Boba,

the huge animal was my grandmother collecting yellow buds disowned by

the branches.

“What are you doing Boba?” I asked her crossly.

She forwarded her hands full of beautiful bright yellow buds, handling the

cup to the nature lover I hurried to get ready for school. I sat down to eat

my breakfast excited to meet my friends at school, Aaish my classmate had

planned a party but my desires thawed on hearing the news when Ruqbaan

turned on the radio, some people had blown a military tank in Maisooma

employed for security purposes killing five CRPF jawans which lead to

paroxysm declaring Srinagar bandh. Curfew became a part of our daily

routines, Ruqbaan celebrated because curfew meant a week long holiday. I

abhorred but was accustomed to such situations, it wasn’t new since last

month this was the third time Ruqbaan got a chance to dance all around

celebrating the unplanned holidays. All this adversely affected the studies

and distracted students. I got out of my uniform to join Mouji and Boba

discussing last night’s incident in the living room which was a small

wooden room carpeted from corner to corner in maroon colour, the

corners of the age old carpet satisfied the appetite of little mice that entered

the house sometimes, multiple windows never suffocated the house. Boba

sat on one side of the room in her greyish phiran and brown colour scarf

that was knotted behind her head, resting her right arm on a poorly

embroidered cylindrical cushion while the other hand moved up and down

from plate to mouth putting in the apricots. Mouji applied oil on her

mother in law’s sole fitting in the role of a perfect daughter in law.

Ruqbaan continued to create nuisance all around,

“I am going meet Reyaz,” I informed Mouji.

The trio Abu, Bhaiya and Wamiq uncle were busy debating over last night’s

blast at Reyaz’s residence. Wishing them good morning I tiptoed to my

friend’s room.

“Heard about the Maisooma blast,” I asked Reyaz who rested on a cot

inattentive.

“Allah knows when all this will end,” I continued.

“Unless it ruins and shatters everyone’s life,” Reyaz said.

The bitterness of his voice made me uneasy, silence occupied the room for

some minutes.

“Mouji will cook yaqni today came to invite you,” I broke the silence

“I’ll see if I can join you,” he said looking outside the window.

His ignorance evoked my agitation giving way to an outburst.

“What the hell are you upto Rizzo, you won’t get anything doing this, for

God’s sake stop mourning and get a life.”

He looked at me in amazement with watery eyes. I felt burying myself, if

only I could take those harsh words back which lowered my eyes and hurt

my best friend.

“I am sorry,” I said hesitatingly.

He remained unaffected continued staring outside trying to undo my

misbehaviour, his big green eyes filled with numerous questions always

carried water in them. I could not stand any longer therefore left the room

feeling disabled.

Both of us never discussed the story of my rudeness ever again but a

corner of my heart pinched my soul accusing it to be a traitor who could

not stand the worst part of his only close friend. Reyaz behaved absolutely

normal but my guilt drove me away from that normalcy making me feel

queer in his company. Actions and words determine one’s relationships.

The strike ended so did Ruqbaan’s celebration atlast we could return to our

not so normal lives, few months were left for my tenth board exams and

my preparation was zero. It was decided that Reyaz and me will study

together for atleast eight hours to score good but the same old story was

repeated our plan never materialised.

Chapter IV

Didi’s flattery did not go in vain, I agreed to accompany her to her

friend’s wedding but poor woman had to go through a lot of confrontation

before stepping out of the house. Boba interrupted her make up,

“Where are you off to?” she asked squeezing her eyes.

“It’s my friend’s wedding Boba.” she replied politely making efforts not to

be rude because that might have spoiled her plan.

“Where is it?” Boba asked

“At Dal gate,” she said obediently

“Fine go, do wear your abaya and be back on time,” she said departing

from the room.

Boba wasn’t a strict orthodox lady but when it came to Didi she turned

into a coward frightened of the military men who did kidnap girls and

raped them, irony was no actions were taken against those men despite of

their blasphemous actions. Many girls were sexually exploited and killed

but police stations were filled with cases of suicide, that’s because it was

quiet easy for the murderers to change the name of their deed and escape

the penance. Didi wasn’t allowed to go out alone, she remained confined

within the four walls but never complained because she loved her honour

and was well aware of the pathetic condition of the valley. Abbu decided to

pull her out of the school to avoid any kind of mishap that might have

happened if she continued to commute alone from home to school and

back. She wished that she was born as a boy and if God wanted her to be a

girl only, then she was born somewhere away from Kashmir where her

wings would have had enough wind beneath making her fly as high as

possible.

We left the home marched towards the main road and stopped at the bus

stop. Didi would not leave my wrist, her grip blocked blood transportation

to my fist.

“Didi will you loosen your grip, I won’t run away,” I said irritated.

We both waited patiently for the bus but a tall man standing at other corner

of the stop challenged my patience, he stared at Didi without blinking. Didi

was a beautiful woman, possessing white complexion, pointed nose, large

brown eyes, and cheeks as pink as water lily. I wanted to punch the man in

his face but controlled my emotions when I noticed I was half of his size.

My desperation to board the bus aggravated, I moved all around with

alacrity but Didi stood calm in the corner with lowered eyes. She often

made me wonder how can a human be so much satisfied with the wrong

going around, she was filled with gratitude and never complained. On

asking she would calm me saying whatever happens has a strong reason

behind, be patient because God is watching your struggle and He will

reward you in the coming life.

“Dhrrrrr Dhrrrrrr” the sound of the wrecked bus settled my excitement.

We boarded the bus.

“Ze ticket Dal gate khetir” I asked the conductor, he punched two tickets

and we both took our seats.

We got down at our destination, I wasn’t aware that I’ll be left alone to

wander among the strangers clad in glittering outfits. Didi went to the

ladies section leaving me alone to make a fool of myself staring at the kids

running all around and making weird noises. I tried my best to adjust

among the various faces but when my jaw started aching because of the

fake smile and the cacophonous sound began to tear my ear drum I quickly

made my way out to roam around Dal gate. I realised it was a better option

instead of sitting on the awful chair, people were in a rush outside everyone

moving around to accomplish task assigned to them by nature and by

society, the rush of life makes us forget ourselves. I wanted peace and solace,

a moment away from the world just me and my soul, edge of the

Dal Lake was my favourite place, I freed my feet of the weight to rest on

the small wall encircling the lake. No one could soak the feet in the lake

water because the walls were high leaving the feet free in air to swing left

and right. The sight was worth staring, lake water emitted light when the

sun rays kissed it, the magnificent houseboats and Shikaras rowing from

one end to another made it look more placid and serene. The flock of birds

flew over my head, atleast someone was free to move fearlessly. I closed

my eyes to feel the gentle breeze which left droplets on my face, it was

heavenly.

The place hypnotised making me forget the time and duty, departing sun

looked even more beautiful,

“Oh God we have to return home before sunset” I said to myself slapping

my own cheek.

Didi stood outside the wedding venue worried, I rushed to calm her but

her scolding landed me in a situation which required me to calm down.

“I can’t believe you can be so careless, do you understand what can happen

if we both are stranded over here,” she said callously.

“I’m sorry Didi,” I was short of explanations or maybe I knew no one

could understand my admiration of the Dal.

“What made you leave this place, answer me don’t stand dumb.”

“You wanted me to sit at that silly place and fake smiles at everyone,” I

answered back rudely.

She remained silent it was quiet evident that my rudeness hurt her because

Mouji had always taught us to be respectful to the elders. When the bus

didn’t arrive for few minutes and darkness covered the city we hired the

auto despite of overcharges.

Chapter V

“Ruslaan, hurry up Reyaz has been standing for so long,” Didi shouted

from the kitchen.

My nights made me believe that I was surely in clutches of insomnia, it was

terrible to stay up the entire night without knowing the reason of

restlessness, my whole body ached badly but no one could alter my

decision of attending the school. Attending the school was bliss because

for most part of the year the institutions remained closed depriving us of

everything important.

Dried chinar leaves concealed the road making me happy with the cracking

sound as I stepped on them. Reyaz walked silently least interested in the

gifts of nature. My mind requested me to part ways with such disenchanted

human who failed to taste the flavours of life and tighten the strings of

attachment with someone else but heart denied claiming it was only me

whom Reyaz ever interacted with, my betrayal would kill him, after all “a

friend in need is a friend indeed”.

Classroom sheltered students with different expressions, some of them

lamenting while few celebrating.

“What’s the fuss about” I asked puzzled.

“Ruslaan, look at this” one of my classmate waved his scorecard in the air.

That was enough to shift the earth beneath me, worst part of exam was the

result. My heart travelled to the throat in excitement and butterflies

fluttered in the belly but a glimpse of the scorecard altered the emotions

instantly. Though I was a bright student but my faith in me wasn’t strong

enough, the A grade on the card gave way to uncontrolled joy. Reyaz was

no less but his expressions was worse than the one who failed. I wanted

him to feel the way I felt but there wasn’t any way out to get him rid of his

insensitivity.

Good result meant party, on our way back we halted at Ghulam Mian’s

shop to buy some sweet and sour candies. He was a kind man of white

complexion and weight of a sumo wrestler, his dense black beard and sharp

features gave him a royal look. The shop was poor, broken shelves and a

wooden chair was the only furniture but Ghulam Mian hardly cared about

it because his eyes were always glued to his small television set that

telecasted Shahrukh Khan’s movie.

“You are watching news? Are you alright” I asked but there wasn’t any

response from the other side.

“Can I get some candies,” I asked.

“Take them yourself child,” he said without moving his eyeballs.

I opened the jar, fetched my favourite flavours and kept the money on the

table but he didn’t even bother to keep it inside. His keenness bothered

me, a man who hardly looks around when shahrukh khan is on was hearing

news.

“Bomb blast in Delhi,” the news flashed making me nervous.

“That’s where Nazeer chacha lives.” I told Reyaz.

“Delhi is a big city Ruslaan.”

I stood there lending my ears to gather as much information as I could, the

bomb exploded in Kamla Nagar market where Delhi University students

shopped. I wasn’t aware of my uncle’s dwelling, this unawareness raised my

anxiety turning it into fear. Candies could not generate any excitement, I

dropped them and ran swiftly to inform theeveryone at home. My

breathlessness frightened Mouji.

“What’s wrong?” Mouji asked while Boba stared.

“Bring some water” Mouji called out.

Gulping the whole glass I first inquired about my Chacha’s whereabouts.

“He lives in Kamla Nagar, what’s wrong?” Boba confirmed my doubt.

“Last night a bomb exploded in the Kamla Nagar market killing several

people, Delhi is on high alert,” I said unwilling to reveal the news

considering Boba’s weak heart.

“May Allah protect my son,” Boba said folding her hands.

None of us could contact the family making me hate our helplessness and

ignorance.

“Didi atleast you should have noted his phone number” I said irritated.

Abbu’s return lessened our anxiety he immediately rushed to the nearby

telephone booth to call his brother but unfortunately lines were blocked.

Each one of us prayed for their wellbeing. The fear of losing slowly batters

the soul rendering it weak and distraught. No food passed the esophagus

uncertainty choked everyone. Hard bang on the door frightened.

“I’m sure it’s some crazy visitor” I said opening the door only to find

Bhaiya standing.

“You said something Ruslaan” Didi said in a teasing tone, I warned her

with my stern look.

Bhaiya rushed to Mouji and placed his head on her lap, his face perspired

while the expressions reminded me of men coming out of theatres after

watching horror movies. He kept silent for few minutes repeated questions

and shakes did not mobilse him or make him speak.

“He is shocked I think” I said studying his actions.

Mouji took his face in her hands to wipe it with her shawl.

“What makes you react this way, answer me now” she said strictly.

“Nazeer chacha”

“What happened to him” Abbu came forward to ask

“Answer child, what’s wrong with Nazeer” Boba said with trembling voice.

“Police has arrested him”.

There wasn’t any reaction in the room, everything remained silent and

seemed calm. All of a sudden Boba collapsed generating life in the

paralyzed family members. Bhaiya further informed that Unaiza chachi will

return to Kashmir soon along with her kids, there wasn’t anyone to

support or help her. Meanwhile Abbu and Bhaiya packed their stuff to

leave for Delhi to help my angelic uncle who was scared to kill even a fly.

Though I never got the chance to interact with my uncle and know about

him in great detail because he seldom stayed with us despite of visiting

Kashmir every year but Boba and Abbu made us learn about him and his

family to keep alive the relations which do rot if neglected. Boba told that

of all her children Nazeer uncle was the most innocent one, contended

with what he got and never indulged in any kind of dispute, he cared only

of his family and the business, passing his free time meditating and praying

in the masjid. Delhi police usurped him to be the mastermind behind the

blast, it was indeed unbelievable considering the stories narrated by Boba.

The whole night passed in prayers, discussions which seldom lead to

arguments, Abbu brought forth few reasons that made police suspect

Chacha, his appearance and his identity. The two terms perplexed me all

this while I thought actions determined the persons fate but here my

Chacha’s long black beard, skull cap and the Kashmiri Muslim tag turned

his life upside down.

“What will you do over there?” Mouji inquired.

“I have heard of some non-government organisations that help innocent

people, will seek their help,” Abbu replied.

I sensed Abbu’s contrasting expressions consoling the family with

optimistic thoughts simultaneously feared being repudiated. He sat beside

his semiconscious mother silently promising to get back her innocent son.

Both left the house with the hope that Nazeer chacha will walk along when

they return.

The house was lamenting, Didi stared at the opposite wall brushing fingers

through Ruqbaan’s locks who rested his head in her lap. Mouji made

efforts to put food in stubborn Boba’s mouth but soon gave up, everyone

laid full of apprehensions breathing uneasiness that adulterated the air. I

didn’t have the time to join the club because Chachi and her kids were to

be picked from the airport and I was assigned the responsibility. Nazeer

Chacha was a wealthy man, his Kashmir emporium in Delhi earned him

enough to lead a perfectly luxurious life in an expensive city. By the time I

reached the airport, flight had already arrived and Chachi stood outside

with her twin sons Saad and Sameed looking for me. It was an awkward

moment because I didn’t not know how to react, on previous visits

blessings and hugs were exchanged but scenario was totally different.

Amidst the sad atmosphere dwelled two angels unaware of the tragedy

which might alter their lives forever, the innocent ones were filled with

happiness and joy and their face brightened to see me. Chachi’s weight

vindicated her husband’s wealth, I could not sit on the back seat along with

them so I shared the driver’s seat whose aversion was evident whenever he

hit me with his elbow.

They were welcomed with tears and outbursts at home confusing the kids

further more. Boba circled her arms around Chachi whose buried tears

where making her ill, a sympathetic touch broke the dam. The sight was

excruciating, someone had casted a spell on our lives. Bad not good things

increase the curiosity of neighbours therefore there were swarms of locals

visiting our house some to empathise, some pity and some just to feed on

snacks and tea torturing my poor mother who hardly came out of the

kitchen the entire day. Gone sun gifted few moments of peace but Mouji’s

worries were far from resting, her constant requests forced me to

accompany her to Ahmer bhai’s electronics shop which unfortunately was

locked up. Abbu and bhaiya did not contact from Delhi which disturbed

Mouji, she was being solicitous so I knocked at his house door which was

adjacent to his shop.

“Whose it?” a voice from the other side of the door asked.

“Ruslaan, need to make a call” I shouted.

He came out swooning with a bunch of keys to open a small lock hanging

on a weak door, his shop smelled of kerosene and grease.

“Hurry up” he said going out of the shop not because of our privacy but

to snooze sitting on the stairs.

Mouji could do everything except memorizing the telephone numbers, I

dialed the correspondence number Abbu had given us repeatedly but the

recorded female voice insured that the number was out of reach and there

wasn’t any point dialing, together with this Ahmer bhai’s agitated look

terminated my attempts to contact Abbu, saddening Mouji.

Chapter VI

Ruqbaan and Didi came dashing in the room next morning to throw my

blanket away in the air, Ruqbaan shook me vigorously making my heart

skip a beat.

“What nonsense is this” I said hitting him.

Both of them stood scared unable to speak, their horrendous expressions

suggested that something was definitely wrong, I rushed but found

everything normal outside, all three ladies sat quietly on the carpet.

“So the two have been fooling me,” I said turning back to ask for an

explanation.

“This is not the time to play such pranks, don’t be so insensitive both of

you.”

Suddenly noises coming from outside caught my attention, there was a

thunderbolt as I unlocked the door to find the reason behind those noises.

Cameras and reporters jammed the lane trying to get in the premises of my

house, within seconds I closed the door to avoid unnecessary interrogation. I

felt daunted and unnerved, the spine chilling sight took my power of

thinking away, Abbu and Bhaiya’s absence scared all of us even more but

soon I realised there wasn’t any reason to panic avoiding was enough.

A thud on the door throbbed our pulses, none willed to answer it but

there wasn’t an end to that person’s madness that stood outside, sitting

and worrying did not help any of us, I had to face the circumstances. With

shivering hands and bouncing heart I opened the door, two tall and stout

men with dense moustache and tummies falling on the waist belt stood

there, had seen khakhi uniform men in Hindi movies, later on I came to

know that my comparison was not that wrong the men were inspectors

who came all the way from Delhi to interrogate our family. Pushing me

aside both of them entered the house proudly, ordering the other officials

to frisk the house, Boba immediately covered Didi’s face to avoid the

glances of dirty men. We all helplessly watched them throw things all

around.

“What are you people doing, what do you want” Mouji said trying to stop

them from breaking our valuable stuff.

“Let us do our work you terrorists” said an ugly official pushing Mouji out

of his way.

She felt abominable hearing terrorist for herself, it might have pinched that

was the reason she didn’t utter a word after that. Those hideous men

continued with the post mortem of our little house while the senior one’s

sat stubbornly on the chairs staring like lion glaring at meat chunks.

“Nazeer was your husband?” one of them questioned.

“He is my husband” Chachi replied crossly.

“Is or was, is not what bothers us” the cold man replied.

“But it matters a lot to us.”

“He is a terrorist, a terrorist”

“My husband is innocent, your false and baseless allegations barred him, all

scoundrels” She had an outburst.

That was enough to evoke the Caliban hidden in that man. He caught hold

of Chachi’s hair tearing it apart from the scalp and hurt her by making his

breath move her flick, the forced closeness suffocated her.

“You bloody terrorists have made our lives hell and you have the audacity

to call us scoundrels, you whore,” he strengthened his grip making her cry.

“Saab we couldn’t find anything,” a Hawaldaar satisfied him.

Agitated he threw Chachi away and grabbed me instead, the big red rage

full eyes searched me all over.

“You are going with us little bastard, some papers ought to be signed,” he

ordered holding me with collar.

Despite of Mouji’s reluctance I had to go along with them.

Week passed making police frequent visitors and Abbu a common name

among the advocates. None of the lawyer agreed to fight Nazeer Chacha’s

case to prove his innocence making my family subject to abuse and

frisking. We became accustomed to this routine.

Abbu’s endeavors fetched him a feeble lawyer who diminished our

apprehensions but refused to guarantee Chacha’s freedom, despite of this

he did ignite hope in each soul. Boba did not try to recover befriending the

mattress laid in the living room, I missed her tales and the betel juice, my

strawberry became a dried apple.

“We will have to leave today Abbu,” Bhaiya said turning pages of his file.

“Today? We can leave tomorrow morning,” Abbu said.

Lawyer summoned both of them to discuss the details before courts

proceeding so they left that very evening.

My life always bestowed me with numerous reasons to skip school, this time

it was Chacha’s tragedy that kept us apart and partly because I was scared to

face anyone. My presage proved to be accurate I could sense people

pointing me then buzz in each other’s ears, circumstances gave the tongues

opportunity to gossip about my family, which was counted amongst

the decent ones. I changed drastically, both me and Reyaz passed the woods

silently, I was stepping in his shoes. The place that sheltered me from

everything soon became sad making me search for peace, the highly strung

condition of my house began to weaken the bond. I wasn’t the first one to

have such atrocious episode a part of my life, there were many who

understood my plight and supported the family.

Chapter VII

Jail became Chacha’s permanent home, one and a half year passed in the

struggle but nothing could be achieved, his captivation did not alter our

lives but ruined Unaiza chachi and her kids.

“Ruslaan lock the window, its freezing,” Didi said half asleep.

Sleep had decided to abandon me so I covered myself with the quilt to take a

stroll around. The chill was torturing but I made myself comfortable on the

stairs to peacefully glare at the night sky smeared with peaceful stars. The

cold surroundings were a break from the ongoing mishaps, reticence

relaxed my ears for a while reducing the congestion of thoughts wandering

all over. The head rested on the cold wooden pillar on the side while eyes

stayed fixed on the black sky. The beauty of the moment was destroyed by

unpleasant noises coming from Wamiq uncle’s porch. I expanded my

pupils to catch the sight but except for movement nothing could be seen,

that was something unusual thus I could not control my childhood

problem of meddling and rushed but an ugly cat attacked suddenly pushing

me on the ground.

“You foolish pussy, get out of here” I said separating it from my bosom.

Next was the sound of a car driving back, quieting the place again.

I got up early to interrogate Reyaz about the incident that disturbed me

the entire night.

“Were you out last night?” Mouji interrupted.

“hmm yes, wasn’t able to sleep so…” I explained.

“Why don’t you people let us live, thousand times we have informed you

not to leave the house when dark, Listen you,” She grabbed my shoulder

tightly popping out her eyes ordered strictly.

“cease the aberration and learn to follow rules else you will have it from

me.”

Her rage frightened me.

“I love you jigar, restrictions imposed are for your benefit, we don’t want to

lose you” She said politely placing her hand on my face.

“I understand Mouji, you won’t get another chance to complain I

promise”.

Unaiza chachi’s long stay disturbed the budget, a destitute heart though

flooding with love and affection can never be the support of a sinker. She

left our place to live in Pampore, Chacha’s bank accounts and property was

sealed by the government and their house demolished by the blinded

neighbours. It was obvious that the passing time will erase the memories of

the ghastly event reducing it to a nightmare but false allegations and

stereotypes ruined three lives. Life isn’t always a test, for few it’s a battle

that’s already been lost.

Caged birds reminded me of Chacha. Ignoring the fact that a prisoner is

devoid of reasons to celebrate people still believe that the birds in cage sing

when actually they lament at their plight.

“Ruslaan, Ruslaan.”

“What’s wrong Ruqbaan, why are you shaking me.”

“Nothing wrong was just trying to bring you back to this world.”

“Oh really, here I am save yourself.”

Ruqbaan and I turned the clean house into trash, tossing cushions and

pillows, bobbing and screaming, hiding behind Didi, infact Ruqbaan made

her fall

“Miyain qamar fitrawith” she shouted at us.

“Boys you don’t reside in a marble palace, if you keep running like rabbits

this hovel will come crashing on our heads” Mouji shouted from the

kitchen

But nothing could bring our laughter to a halt unless we fell on the carpet

holding stomach with one hand and pressing painful jaws with the other.

The light hearted moment pushed the grievances back, I was happy, very

happy.

“Rizzo are you home?”

“Coming Ruslaan” he shouted from the washroom.

After much speculation I decided to confront Reyaz about the presence of

weird men outside his house after midnight.

“Assalamalikum, early morning,” He asked.

“I saw some men the other night dealing either with you or uncle.”

“Whaaat, I don’t have any idea about this,” he flustered.

Something was cooking and his stammering assured me but I refrained

from asking anything else.

“Ok I thought maybe you knew them.”

“No I don’t,” he replied crossly.

I began discussing holiday homework to hush away his guilty expressions.

Reyaz was involved in something which could be dangerous or maybe not

but I could not make out what it was. Reyaz has always been full of

vengeance, I feared his uncontrolled emotion which could be disastrous if

not checked. Everyone tried their best to make him forget his mother’s

death but he would not listen. Wamiq uncle often complained to me about

his behaviour that scared and saddened him.

Minimum temperature reached zero degree forcing all the residents to dig in

the quilts I was the first one to succumb burying my body in the quilt. I

wanted my mind to go blank forget every evil thing that battered the soul.

Enduring such deplorable life was noxious and nauseating, suicide was a

sin else I would have certainly escaped from this world. The person who

commits suicide is neither accepted by Allah nor does he belong to the

world anymore, I didn’t want to hang up in the skies though I was fed up

of Kashmir and its restricted life. Life would have been pleasant if I

belonged to some other place.

“Ruslaan get up, you’ll miss your prayer,” Didi pulled my quilt to wake me

up.

I purified myself and rushed to the praying rug but Mouji stopped me

because it was already day outside, qazaa namaz was offered after ten

minutes. Winter meant waking up late, everyone in the house would

occupy themselves except me and Ruqbaan, my eye lids never separated

before ten.

Chill had no plans to spare us, poor Boba suffered the most. Had it been

in my hands I would have hidden water during winters then Mouji

wouldn’t have forced me to wash sometimes hands and sometimes face

and sometimes bath. We weren’t allowed to sit for breakfast without

washing ourselves properly, Mouji’s rules were no less than those of

aristocrats. I was ready to dive in the water to eat delicious halwa prepared

by Mouji, after measuring and weighing our halwa Ruqbaan and me sat

down on the shaggy carpet to enjoy it.

“bhaambb, bhaaad, bhaambb bhaaad,” the whole house shivered, the bowl fell

from my hand frightening Boba.

“Earthqake earthquake,” Ruqbaan freaked out.

“Shut up, it’s not earthquake,” I said looking around, the assumed

earthquake left everyone puzzled.

It took seconds to collect myself, the smoke mixed in air outside reduced

the visibility and made breathing difficult.

“Come along Ruqbaan.”

“What is it,” he asked

“Baktoo house is emitting flames.”

None of the dwellers were in their houses jamming the narrow lane, one of

my neighbour informed about the bomb blast in the white colour van

parked in front of Baktoo house. The hysterical situation terrified the entire

neighbourhood including me but for some time I kept it aside and walked

further bumping into something that made me fall. Ruqbaan pulled me up

protecting from being stepped by the dreaded crowd, the reason of my fall

was a crumpled limb of the one who died in the blast, the heart rending

irksome sight was enough to horrify me, we both ran back I pushed

Ruqbaan inside the house to abscond to Reyaz’s house.

Chapter VIII

House was empty and dark no one responded despite of my repeated calls. I

marched back to the spot of blast in search of Reyaz but he was nowhere. I

was astound at his absence which was unusual, looking all around my eyes

fell on a man sitting on big grey rock in the corner unnoticed. Body

language suggested that his kin was killed in the blast, I gently placed my

hand on the stooping shoulder.

“Are you alright Sir?”

Cups of hands uncovered the sunken face.

“Wamiq uncle, why are you sitting here.” I asked bewildered.

But Uncle did not utter a single word he wept constantly glaring at the white

van burning into flames. Silence sprouted horrible thoughts in my mind.

“Where is Rizzo?” still no response, the nerves failed to carry my message

to his numb brain but my senses were alarmed I continued questioning.

“Uncle will you tell me where is my friend ?”

I shook him hard grabbing the shoulders to wake up his senses. The sullen

face hoisted in astonishment.

“Where has Reyaz gone.” I asked politely controlling my emotions.

I turned to the direction of his finger immediately in search of Reyaz but

to my surprise Uncle was pointing towards the scorched van. I fuddled at

my inability to understand what he was trying to convey. The van began to

torture him turning the skin blue , playing the role of a scourge. Uncle’s

panting increased so did my worry I immediately took him to the house

and called Mouji and others for help, the arduous sight of him fluttering on

the carpet like a fish thrown out of water worried everyone. On Mouji’s

order I hurried to call the doctor but the clogged lane did not let me move

thus I had to take the wooded road to reach Dr. Usmaan Kraipak’s clinic.

Dr. Usmaan was trusted the most, partly because of his treatment and

partly because of the minimal fees he charged.

“I’ve given him an injection, he needs rest now,” The doctor said closing

the door of the room.

“What happened to him suddenly,” Mouji asked.

“He is suffering from Emphysema, but todays condition indicates

something serious has affected his brain and heart severely,” He explained.

“We’ll take care of him,” Mouji assured him.

I accompanied him till the end of the lane where he had parked his car, the

narrow lane could only fit bikes nothing else, I informed him about the

blast.

“Sad to hear about the blast, but nice talking to you,”

“Thank you sir,” I replied

“I hope you have thought about your future,” he said siting in the car.

His sentence perturbed me.

“Future ?”

I wasn’t able to handle my present, future stands far. Instead of going back

where Mouji and Ruqbaan were waiting I searched for clues to locate

Reyaz at the burning spot. Inam uncle my immediate neighbour instructed

men who worked to extinguish the fire siting on the chair himself.

Expecting to get answers of my questions I approached him.

“Has anyone died,” I asked.

“No,” he replied.

Horrendous thoughts spared the mind, lessening the burden restricting

smooth flow of breath assuring me Reyaz’s wellbeing.

“No one died in the house, but the boy siting in the van is no more,” Inam

Uncle added.

I felt paralysed.

“Was it him,” I said to myself but soon my heart proved the assumption

wrong not being able to link Reyaz and the van, without asking anything

else I escaped from the blasphemous spot.

“Where is Reyaz, how can he be so callous,” Mouji said angrily.

“No idea, I have been trying to locate him since morning,”

“Stay here with Wamiq bhai, I’ll go back,” she ordered moving towards the

main door.

Latching the door I sat beside uncle silently trying to retrospect his

uneasiness at the glimpse of the white van. Alacrity consumed the entire

day leaving me anxious, Abbu and Bhaiya were in state of shock to see the

alterations that ruined much in short span of time. Wamiq uncle lied

unconscious or may be asleep none of us could make out, no news of

Reyaz disturbed everyone. I went out again with a hope finding my best

friend. Dominance of darkness forced the restless and exhausted crowd

indoors but cops and army men continued with their investigation. The

happy Baktoo house turned into a haunted one, laughter of women and

children echoed in the black coaled walls making the scattered debris

vibrate. Two women and a man were struggling for life in the hospital, they

were the ones occupying the house at that moment, my source of

information were the cops whose discussions I overheard.

“Excuse me, sorry for interrupting, I want to know about the boy in the

van,” I asked fearing.

They checked me out from head to toe before answering.

“He was the suicide bomber, but his identity is a mystery, enough now go

back to your house,” he scolded me.

“Yea thank you,” I said running back.

As I reached Reyaz’s house I found the one who had answers of my

questions, Wamiq uncle gained consciousness.

“How are you uncle?”

“Ba chus theek,” he replied softly.

I was about to ask regarding Reyaz but the fear of stroke stopped me, no

word came out of my mouth filling the room with awkward silence when

suddenly Uncle started weeping.

“What’s wrong?”

“Your friend is no more,” He said taking my hand in his.

“Be explicit uncle you scare me,”

He raised his head to look at me and wiped the beard wetted by endless

tears he shed to narrate the entire story.

Reyaz’s disturbed psyche pushed him into the most dangerous game of

his life, desperate to take revenge of his mother’s death he joined a

furtive group which worked to spread terrorism in the valley throwing

bombs and grenades all around. His involvement with the hideous men

was a month old when the truth came forth the leader of the camp

Masood Kanth. Reyaz wasn’t training himself to be a terrorist rather

was an informer of the police who revealed all their plans and actions.

Despite knowing the consequences Reyaz preferred to dive in the fatal

trap he created himself, Masood Kanth could go to any extremes to

punish the traitor so did he. A suicide bomb was tied on my friend’s

body and was locked in the white van near his house. Masood Kanth

gave him the most painful death, he died in front of his house. Revenge

and hatred killed my only best friend.

I saw Reyaz flying high in the sky moving away from the hideous place

which ruined his life, floating happily amidst the cotton clouds, fearless

and liberated, and reflecting joy. The happy and fresh image

saddened my heart with the pain of losing my best friend. Each and

everything was as clear as crystal, no more did I ponder over the

presence of black men outside Reyaz’s house and his hesitation when

confronted. His departure evoked in me a concoction of emotions,

where on one hand it pained my heart filling it with despair, end of his

tormented life relieved me on the other.