"Not everyone would have been so fortunate"

With Regards 

Abi
 


“At his best, man is the noblest of all animals; separated from law and justice 
he is the worst”
- Aristotle

--- On Sun, 8/23/09, yogi sikand <[email protected]> wrote:








>From the Valley of Death 
By Mushtaq ul Haq Ahmad Sikander      
  
  
  
  
  
The October 2003 issue of the Reader's Digest carries an article titled "After 
Life" that deals with stories of people who were declared dead, but by some 
miracle, came back to life again. Robert Milham is one such person. He says 
that his heart stopped during a heart attack: "The pain was gone. I was 
suspended over my body. I was looking at myself lying on the stretcher and they 
were putting paddles on me". After a life of selfishness, he says his brush 
with death made him a more giving person. 
  
My case is also the same, but in some ways different. I am an inhabitant of the 
Valley of Kashmir, known all over the world for its beauty, but which could now 
be called a beautiful prison or an awesome concentration camp. 
  
One day, I was heading to my tutor’s house, situated at a walking distance from 
my home. On the streets of Kashmir, counter insurgency forces are omnipresent 
and we Kashmiris have got used to their sight. Suddenly, as I was trudging 
ahead, I was stopped by a paramilitary trooper. He ordered me to open my bag. I 
did as he said. He started frisking me. 
  
“Why have you grown such a long beard? Are you a saint?” he asked me mockingly. 
I said nothing. 
  
When he was satisfied, he asked for my identity card. When I thrust my hand in 
my pocket and started searching for my wallet, which also contained my identity 
card, I remembered that I had forgotten my wallet at home. I told the trooper 
about it, and tried to impress upon him that I was only a student and a 
law-abiding citizen. I told him that I lived nearby, pointing in the direction 
of my colony. 
  
This, however, did not make a dent on him. Meanwhile, another student walked 
past and he stopped him and asked him where he lived. It so happened that this 
student also lived in the same colony as I, although I did not know this. 
Pointing at me, the paratrooper asked the student if he recognized me. He 
answered in the negative. The trooper then became furious. “Are you trying to 
deceive me?”, he shrieked. 
  
I said in an apologetic tone: "I reside in the locality whose name I told you". 
  
"Go and sit in that vehicle”, he ordered me. When he indicated the vehicle, it 
struck me that this man was no ordinary Central Reserve Police Force trooper 
but, rather, that he belonged to the notorious RR, the ‘Rashtriya Rifles’, to 
whom a large number of human rights violations in Kashmir have been attributed. 
  
I tried to plead my ignorance. That did not work, however. "Why are you without 
an identity card? If someone kills you, who will identify you then? Even being 
a student you bastard don't know the rules!” he angrily spat out. 
  
I tried to persuade the man to let me go but all in vain. I told him I was 
getting late for my tuition class, but he did not pay any heed. He ordered me 
to sit inside the vehicle. I did as he commanded. 
  
Thoughts of the past came ringing in my head, swimming around like a wild 
whirlpool. I thought of my parents, siblings, friends and relatives. I prayed 
to Allah to erase my sins as I imagined that now, in just a few days, I would 
meet my Lord. How were these troopers  going to behave with me, I began to 
wonder. Would they kill me and label me as a ‘dreaded militant’? They might 
well do that, I feared, for they could possibly use my bearded appearance to 
justify their claim. Would they subject me to brutal torture, as so many have 
been before? Or would I be subjected to ‘enforced disappearance’, like 
thousands of others have? 
  
I began to mourn what I feared was my imminent death. After some days, I began 
to imagine, my dead body would be handed over to my parents, who would be told 
that I had been killed in an ‘unknown operation’. My killing would draw fierce 
condemnation. My family would publish my obituary in the newspapers, announcing 
to the world: 
  
"We regret to announce the martyrdom of Shaheed Mushtaq-ul-Haq Ahmad Sikandar 
at the hands of RR troops. He was loved by one and all, and leaves behind him a 
large number of friends and admirers to mourn his loss. His untimely death has 
left a void in our lives. He was like a flower, spreading fragrance by his 
jovial, humourous nature. Yet, fate crumbled this young flower before it could 
bloom,. His funeral rites will take place at 11 AM today". 
  
At the bottom of the page would be an announcement: "Women are requested not to 
bring any kind of food item or fruits with them". 
  
I was most concerned about my parents, especially my mother, who would not be 
able bear the shock of my death, I knew. 
  
My friends would come to know of my death later. A friend of mine, Wani, is an 
early riser, and as soon as he gets up he reads the day’s newspapers. The day 
after my death, I imagined, Wani would cursorily glance at the headlines of the 
newspaper, then have a shower and breakfast, after which he would pick up the 
paper again, when his eyes would scan the news of lesser importance. When he 
gets to page 3, he would abruptly stop, his face transfixed on the picture that 
accompanies the obituary that my parents have arranged for. His parents would 
tell him to rush to my house, but, shrugging his shoulders, he would say, “I 
have to be at the college in an hour. I have my practicals today and I can’t 
miss them. We will, Insha-Allah, pay Mushtaq’s family a visit in the evening.” 
Wani would then be busy with his practicals all day, while his parents would 
stay at home. 
  
Mehran, another dear friend of mine who is studying architecture in Pune, would 
probably learn of my death after returning home during the vacations. And as 
for Wilayat, when he hears I have been killed, he will refuse to close his shop 
where he repairs mobile phones and come to my home to meet my folks. His 
parents will say, "Will you close your shop today?", but he will grunt in 
reply, ‘I’m afraid I can't as I have a consignment to be delivered. If I have 
the time, I will drop in on the way or we can call on Sunday.’ I know Wilayat 
won’t drop in on the way. Nor will he call on Sunday. 
  
At 11 o’clock, a little crowd will collect at my freshly-dug grave. My friend 
Aijaz would be there, too, although he doesn’t believe in attending funerals. 
All the same, he will come, reluctantly, as a sort of social obligation. Aijaz, 
like another friend Javed, thinks that death is no big deal, that it is really 
an unimportant event. Javed would rather drop in at Coffee Arabica, to meet his 
girlfriend Anjum, than be at my funeral. 
  
A maulvi will then arrive to perform my last rites, and I would be laid in my 
grave, covered with a heap of soil. Everyone is going to weep for a week, but, 
I am sure, I will slowly slip out their memories. Only my family will remember 
the loss. 
  
As I sat in the vehicle, I thought of Aneesa. What will she do after my death? 
After all, we had promised to be only each other’s. When I am gone, she would 
probably marry somebody else. She might marry Faheem, who was besotted by her, 
but whom she constantly spurned, claiming that she loved only me, and that from 
the core of her heart. 
  
I kept obsessing with these and other such frightful thoughts when, suddenly, a 
booming voice made me aware of my unconsciousness. “Come Out!” ordered the 
trooper. As I crawled out, dreading what was to transpire, I saw a bunch of my 
friends who had gathered round the trooper. They had enquired about my 
whereabouts and had told him that I was their friend. The trooper then 
relented. He let me off, but on one condition—that I would always carry my 
identity card with me. 
  
Not everyone would have been so fortunate. 
  
 =========================================================== 
  
Mushtaq ul Haq Ahmad Sikander is a young Kashmiri student from Srinagar. He can 
be contacted on [email protected] 


 
Allah, Farid, juhdi hamesha
Au Shaikh Farid, juhdi Allah Allah.

Acquiring Allah’s grace is the aim of my jihad, 0 Farid! 
Come Shaikh Farid! Allah, Allah’s grace alone is ever the aim of my jihad

 
(Baba Guru Nanak Sahib to Baba Shaikh Farid Sahib)
 
PLEASE VISIT MY BLOGS:
www.islampeaceandjustice.blogspot.com
www.madrasareforms.blogspot.com



      
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