This story has raised a question in my head. And that is, "Whom should I mourn—the one who was martyred or the one who lost everything except life?"
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Nadia, carefully; this river is quite deep," said Sabahat to her friend, who was walking on the bank of the river Kishanganga. They were both sitting at the bank of this river for almost two hours. Sabahat said, "Now we should leave," and then they left for home.
The river Kishanganga works here as a border between India, which is on its left, and Pakistan, which is on its right. While sitting or passing from here, one can witness the full scenic view of another side. The water in this river flows much faster than one’s expectations.
It is a border area surrounded by mighty mountains. The people living in this area have built their houses on small hills. Even today, very few facilities for vehicles are available. People still use their horses to carry their goods. There is only one road that comes from the village; otherwise, the place is entirely different from the rest of the valley. In the winter, the roads here get completely blocked, due to which they face many difficulties.
Sabahat was from the same village and used to live far from home in the main town. She was pursuing her B.com. degree at Women’s College Kupwara. Nadia is her friend who studies with her at the same college. Today Sabahat has come home, and she has also brought Nadia with her. There was no college in the village, so to pursue her degree, she stayed away from home.
The landlords bought the land in the main town, built houses, and permanently shifted there. However, the poor can’t afford to live like this; they have to live here in every situation. There is always a strange look of fear on the faces of the people living on the border. Sabahat and Nadia are now home. At that time, it was her mother, grandmother, grandfather, and her little brother at home.
Nadia said to Sabahat’s grandfather, Grandpa, Your village is very beautiful and so peaceful. Grandpa smiled and replied, "This is the silence before the storm, and no one knows when this will turn into an uproar. These old hands have buried many people. The commotion of those scenarios is still in my ears, which doesn’t let me sleep at night." And while saying this, tears began to flow from his eyes. As he wiped his tears, Nadia asked him, Grandpa, you are so strong; I have never seen you cry. What turned your eyes wet?"
Grandpa replied, "No matter how strong a person is, when he buried his beloved ones, he broke from inside. It was about the 70s, when Sabahat’s father was not born. I was only married for three years and had a two-year-old son, Saif. On that day, there was the marriage of my very dear friend’s sister among our neighbours, so we were all there. In those days, it was customary for grooms to leave for the bride’s home after sunset or later and to carry a bride in a palanquin like a princess. After carrying the bride, we all came home. When we went to sleep, suddenly there was a sound of gunshots.
There was an army in every corner of our village. At a distance from home, there were few army camps. The people in the house were in awe; even everyone in the village was scared. After a few hours of firing, the bombs started being thrown from the other side, as it often happens here. That’s why we have built the underground bunkers here, so we can prevent the damage to our lives in such situations.
We ran and landed in that bunker. The room was hardly enough for us all, but somehow we managed. As the time passed, it became very difficult to breathe in. This continued throughout the night. The whole neighbourhood was terrified. My son was feeling dizzy, maybe because of the poor ventilation and suffocation. I decided to go out to get some water so he could feel better.
The underground was a short distance from the house. It was in the backyard and is still there, now a little bigger and more ventilated, after that dark night. As I opened the door a little, the sound of gunshots turned me deaf and horrified my family. My wife screamed and pulled me back. With tears in her eyes and fear on her face, shuddering, she said, "Khuda ke liye na jaye."
Now it was afternoon, and we were all hungry since last night but didn’t have the courage to go out. At such times, one gets to know that there is very little difference between life and death. And on the other side, the Army had warned us not to come out of our homes. We were somehow enduring our thirst and hunger. However, my son’s condition started getting worse. His lips were drying due to thirst.
Seeing this, my heart began to sink. I cried and screamed inside, "O Allah, what kind of trial is this? A son is losing his breath in front of his father, and he is helpless. In that era, there were neither gas cylinders nor as many facilities as today. We used to burn stoves for cooking. Saif’s condition got much worse; he was unconsciously lying in his mother’s lap.
My younger brother Zafar couldn’t control himself seeing him deteriorate. He quickly went out of the bunker and ran towards the home to get some water for him. I tried to stop him but failed. Almost everything was destroyed; hundreds of soldiers had lost their lives on both sides. Now the bombs were being thrown from both sides.
I was now worried about Zafar because the conditions outside were worse than before, and our house was very close to the border. We were anxiously waiting for him. Two hours passed, but there was still no sign of him. First my son and then my brother, my anxiety was increasing with every second.
Around 5 o'clock, the firing and bombing stopped. Saif’s condition was already falling, and the hunger was making it worse. It was like we had spent some time in the grave. Finally, we came out of that cage. The outside view was not worth seeing. A lot of blood could be seen on both sides; the whole scenario was terrifying. I quickly ran towards my home to see Zafar.
As I walked a little, the view in front of me took my breath. I saw Zafar dead in front of me, with a vessel tilted at a distance from his right hand. I took him on my lap; his body was very cold. In that way, the other members reached there. I tried to scream but couldn't, as I had lost my voice. A bullet had pierced his throat; his whole body was covered in blood. This scene gave me goosebumps.
"No matter how close someone is to your heart, when he dies, it is necessary to bury him. As the people of the neighbourhood heard the sound of crying, they gathered. Now we had to prepare for the funeral and burial. For a moment, I wished to jump in the river, but then I thought that my family needed me, so I stopped. The funeral was not yet prepared, and my wife came crying. She couldn’t even speak because of trauma and crying; she was in bad condition.
I asked her, "What happened? She pointed me towards another room. As I went there, I saw Saif lying on her grandmother's lap. I checked his pulse, but it had stopped. I thought he was unconscious. At that time, a bunch of people were present here in this house. A few of them also checked his pulse and said, "He has passed away. Hearing this, my wife fainted away and fell to the floor. Losing the two beloved ones on the same day and at the same moment was like an apocalypse for me.
I was alive only because of my wife and mother. Our neighbours fulfil all the duties until we bury them in the nearby graveyard. Till that moment, I held on to myself, but then I lost control. And I cried a lot. The fight between two nations took the lives of my son and brother.
For a piece of land, there had been a fight for years. And unfortunately, which has given us nothing but the blood of our beloved ones, saying this; he suddenly stopped and left the room. Sabahat and Nadia had tears in their eyes.