SRINAGAR
01/05/2015
When I perched on the most tumultuous land, I never thought
that it would be the longest night of my life. Diver, almost puffing a new
cigarette every minute, stopped at rajbagh. A man from jammu told me that I
would get a guest house for 100 bucks a night in rajbagh. I jettisoned and
looked around at 9.30 pm, carrying 20 kilos of stuff on my back, to get a place
to stay.
A man from rajbagh was into the bus and crying if someone
needed a place to stay. I tapped on his back to find dark brown eyes and a pink
tint across his face with aaho followed by every sentence. We argued and
settled for 400 night. I knew I would be out by tomorrow morning and look for a
room on rent. As soon as we started strolling on zero bridge, my phone popped
and and a news update from an app appeared before my eyes. Masaraat aalam
had hoisted Pakistan flag on lal chowk. I smirked, looked around and
muttered: - what timing! I hadn’t covered few yards and spotted a CRPF canopy
hung on the edge of zero bridge. The air across the city had a tinge of heaviness,
a slight suffocation.
I walked with him through cascaded walls of rajbagh and
found out that the walls of that place were higher than usual. The whole place
was swept by a few centimeters of dust. High enough to stuff your lungs and
cause illness. I entered into a gothic
building which was seething with algaeic smell and three sofas were waiting for
me to immerse and spend the night. Stench of algae, patches of mud on wall and
moistened sofas were blaring the rhyme of flood that hit them in 2014. Flurry
of updates about kashmir stuffed my phone that night. I talked to one of my
kashmiri pundit friend, who was so keen to know about my well being. His
experience were more than harsh. While talking to him, I could smell danger
around me. I could sense as if I was in an alien place where anyone could be
shot or kidnapped. He called me thrice and asked me to buy a muslim topi and
keeping beard like a young muslim guy. I incessantly denied his request but he
was adamant that I should contact
gopinath temple( it is a place in down town where kashmiri pundits stays during
their festivals or other procession) first in the morning. I took bath and
asked the guest house caretaker about day’s happenings. He briefed and assured
me that I was safe there. Sleep gulfed me and I didn’t even move a bit on that
greased sofa.
Next morning he alarmed me about the situation and asked me
not to leave the guest house, since it was tumoiling there. I took notice of
houses. They were all double storeyed, having a sense of covertness around
them. It seemed as if they were trying to conceal something behind those four
walls. Women catching a glimpse of mine from upper storey while doing household
chores. I didn’t catch their eye.
I couldn’t afford another 400 bucks for a day. I was not on
apicnic or holiday. I had to tay long. Long enough so that I could collect some
concrete matter t write from there. I moved out of that shrunk lane to join
main road. Mussaib’s father runs a tea shop and I thought they could of any
use. While having tea and samosa at their shop, I asked him if I could find a
place for rent. Mussaib followed after me into the shop. His father mumbled
something in kashmiri. Mussaib asked me general questions. Not the kind of
interrogation you were supposed to have while watching any bollywood flick on
television. He looked with amazement that I write for a living.
Two kids came after and were slurping tea and having t’sot
(kashmiri roti). Mussaib asked him for a place to stay for me. The kids asked
me to ride their bicycle. I carried them on cycle and chilly wind were
titillating my lungs during that small visit. He took me there to show a room
having nothing, not even a bed and they weren’t willing to add food in 4000 rs.
I said no and turned my back upstairs, jumped a few steps to land on alley.
Their house was slightly low from the surface level and it could be assumed that floods would have
hit them first.
My phone buzzed again as I was looking for room. My brother
asked me if I was okay or not. I assured him tha was safe. Until then, I wasn’t
abducted, my throat wasn’t slited in front of camera and I hadn’t smelled gun
powder yet.
Mr manzoor ahanger, a medium height gentleman, nicely trimed
beard , was standing outside his house. I asked him for room. He contemplated
for a second and then escorted me to a gate made of iron sheet hooked to a
nail. He asked Mr manzoor ahmad dendru ( owner of the family) to vacat a room
for me. He asked me how much time I need to stay.what kind of profession I was
in? I detailed everything. He went in and tried to convince his daughter to
vacate her room for me.
FARZANA: Mr Manzoor’s daughter farzana was quite reluctant
to give her room to me. She was yelling. I could hear she wasn’t pleased with
my arrival. well! Mr dendru and his wife promised her to get a suit for her.
What I had in mind is a Kashmir where people were killing
non muslims. My family and friends suggested me stay with any hindu family, no
matter how much it costs. It wasn’t like that. I sensed that people there were
generous. They had their opinions about politics and religion. But a common man
has to earn his living. He has to go everyday to earn bread for his family. He
cannot swamped into the filth of hurriyat, pdp or NC.
They allowed me before they knew me properly. Mr dendru
didn’t specify any rules. He looked like a man in his late forties with an
agility of a youngster. He ordered me that that was my house and I could for
anything, anytime I wanted. Mrs dendru nagged in kashmiri but managed a smile
to me.
I was home. I never felt for a second that the place was
alien to me. They provided me with bedding, hot water, separate bathroom and
utensils(cause I am a vegetarian) and the most soothing place to write. From a
corner of my room prayers from masjid could be heard easily, from next corner I
could get the view of Jhelum. I unpacked my books and clothes and sat there for
a while, trying to condense in environment, trying to epitomize everything I
had seen so far. But before I could go so far Mr. dendru asked me to have
lunch.
It was raining heavily outside and Mr dendru, mrs dendru,
young ahanger and farzana had a face of floods. The walls of that room were
outlined by water. One could imagine through the height of crease; how much
water had hit the city?
They made a very delicious meal of rice and saag. A
dastarkhan was put before we eat. It was kind of bed sheet which has urdu
scribbled over it. We had a long chat over meal. Mr dendru had told me how he
had brought tourists at the time of militancy. How he was so stubborn to bring
tourists in town. How he had given suggestions to different government about
tourists. Me dendru and I agreed on a deal that he would make me visit the
interiors of valley. The places no one would like to visit.
On 17 april, my phone beeped millionth time. Media were
flashing the news of a boy killed in Srinagar. I read greater Kashmir
and came to know that it happened in tral. Tral is a place about 8 hours away
from Srinagar.there was no turbulence in Srinagar. It was standing quiet on the
edge of Jhelum. A bandh was observed in Srinagar. I moved out to see bandh, but
it wasn’t like bandh. There was a sense serenity in environment, yet shops were
open, people were walking with their pheran on. There wasn’t any unusualness in
the city.
It was raining heavily during those days. I scribbled pages,
sitting in my room and heard the morning prayer of auntyji. She hummed
beautifully. I even heard farzana huming bollywood song. Me dendru had bought
her nokia lumia. She was more into music. She wanted to purchase a guitar. She
showed me videos of people playing guitar. When I told this to one of my friend
back in jaipur, he was amazed. He thought that girls aren’t allowed to pursue
their dreams there. He thought that they are kept hidden in houses. There was a
complete misconception of people there. People of other regions think that
militancy is a part of their day to day life. There might be some cases but not
every person is the same. They think that safety is an issue in j and k. let me
assure you, if you are new to them or a tourist, you will find the best
hospitable environment there.
On one such day, I visited a village with brother in law of
mr dendru. He took me to a friend’s house where they escorted us into an
embellished seating room with cushions resting on the wall. Few moments later
they served us with rice and freshly prepare vegetables and meat. tashnar ( a
handled jar) was used to wash our hands. Their son made us wash our hands. The
other thing that striked me was when we
were leaving, the hosts asked their son to polish our shoes as a gesture
of respect. I was overwhelmed with joy.
In an another incident mr dendru made me visit the entire
city. He took me to the depth of downtown. He was so eloquent and people were
so cooperative. He talked to them and they were ready to show me their houses,
art of handicraft, paper mache. They were ready to share their stories of past.
I dissected to the level of infinity to get a story out of them and they shared
every bit they knew.
We went to gopinath temple and met a kashmiri pandit family.
The man of the house was four times MA. He was a learned man. He had lost his
land during floods.The words that still echoed my mind is: IN KASHMIR, EVEN IF
A HEN MET WITH AN ACCIDENT. WE USED TO MOURN. These were the same qwords mr
dendru had told me before embarking on that journey. Mr dendru never spoke a
word during that meeting. He made sure that interview didn’t get influence by
his presence. He remained calm and it ended with three of us hugging each
other. I was fighting back tears.
Days gone by and I observed how devoted they are to their
religion. They can talk about quran for hours. They didn’t disturb me when I
was chanting in my room. Mr dendru of farzana tours and travels (rajbagh) and
people of Srinagar didn’t let me put my foot in danger. They were like lost
brothers to me in this friendly hostile land.
