Shiekh Tabish
My mind keeps on thinking it every time: what’s the reason behind every crime. Why people tend to hurt others. Is this, what their forefathers did? Everyone here is so unsafe, recently I heard about a murder case. People have became so ferocious, who will tell them that every life is precious.
All they need is just money, position and power. Why should they care about a victim’s family. But then, their handholding of youth is above political motives. Their tweets spoke louder than their actions. All this reminds me a chat of one rainy evening with my closest pal, Durdana.
“Hey, look, you know what is the latest in the town?” I wrote on her Facebook wall, known for the bombardment of likes, tags and comments. “What,” she replied almost fifteen minutes, later. “Just heard, another young one has been silenced somewhere near the woods in south Kashmir,” I wrote back. “Hmm, nothing new in our hometown, where red now flows through streams,” she replied.
And then, no more comments were exchanged. We were still logged in, yet no word flashed across the screen. In that evening, when Heavens was in no mood to cease its downpour, a tinge of melancholy spread around.
The next day, as we met in college, the leftover chat in soaked evening, resumed. “It’s like a sea where large fish eats small fishes,” she said, flashing looks of rage on her face. “Isn’t it a world ruled by brutes!”
Meaning of living has really changed to more, I chipped in with my one liner. “Do you think, you are the same as you were before,” my stroke of wisdom followed. “Life puts you up and down; but does it mean you will put others on ground.”
The discussion doesn’t end there. In fact, no discussion has its death in the valley. “I mean, how could they expect that we will remain dumb,” the discussion started again when our classes end for the day. “But, my friend in Mumbai told me the last time I chatted with her that we always beat old drums,” I said.
“I pity her; she is not to be blamed for that mindset. That is how, her understanding has been shaped,” my pal sharing the same feelings said.
And then, we walked through the alleys of downtown. In silence, I perceived the pain. I happened to tell them, of course, people out there, “If others don’t like you, let it be. You live for yourself not for them. You have a known stand and that is what makes you unique and special.”
The next morning while following my routine, I saw road scenes created by uniform men. Their action baffled me, as if, putting people at prick gives them a pleasure. I wanted to ask them, “Isn’t it foolishness? Everyone is equal, you already know.” But then, I was too small to create an impact.
No longer, I sat in a bus, people around me started political talks. Some blamed Mr X for the miseries of people and some spoke rude against Mr Y in political camp. The heated discussion made me ponder, as why these babus spread hatred? They are always on some wicked game plan, someone shouted behind my seat: “They are sinning, in tons.”
These days when snow has draped everything white in the valley, certain reminiscences do sprout out. My teacher caught me absorbed in thinking once, and tried to explore the reason behind my reasoning. And then, she came up with an advice, “Don’t be so serious.” After a glance full of concern, she continued: “Just remember dear, January is the most depressive month of the year. It affects your mood. So cheer up.”
But it is hard to tell her that depression is round the clock phenomenon in my neighbourhood. Depression is to watch an aged mother of Farooq and her endless wait. Depression is to see the grief-ridden father of Tauseef, who keeps walking aimlessly. It is on the face of Ruqaya waiting for his husband. And…
And then, looking at myself, I thought, why a girl has stir up an insecure feelings around. Is this a reason of much girl foeticide? But in my hometown, insecure feelings are there inside a mother, who is still afraid of sending her son out? “No, things have changed. People are moving on. So better end these irrational feelings,” she is often told nowadays.
Perhaps, it is a movement of different kind in the valley, where an obvious feeling has been masked up. Now, it must not be too much to ask to lift all these masks? Or maybe, not until, hope is around.
(Shiekh Tabish is pursuing undergraduation in Journalism from Srinagar’s Women College)
