Verily never will Allah change the condition of a people until they change it themselves (with their own souls) Al- Quran

Sunday, July 24, 2016

Once for all “AZZADI”


It has been sixty-three years since India occupied Kashmir. During all these sixty-three years they have never shown any kind of respect for Kashmir in general and its people in particular. With the passage into the 21st century, borders are losing relevance in this world, and a new concept of global village is being discussed. Ironically Kashmir being physically part of this global village has virtually been erased- courtesy great efforts of cunning India.
Since the last sixty-nine years, they not only suffocated our voice and throttled our emotions, but also have drained our resources both in terms of human lives and as other natural resources. There is no single example in the last sixty-nine years that India would have shown any sign of dismay or disappointment in what they are doing in Kashmir.
All these lines are being written for those who understand, who analyze into these facts, both practically as well as emotionally. A class of people who are educated enough to value a life and believe that every human being is born with right to live free. This is evidenced by the evolution of governance in human history, which is presently described as; by the people, for the people, of the people- courtesy democracy. But in our Kashmir it is by India, for India, of India – courtesy Indian might.
This is an occupation, which is relentlessly getting worse with every decade, the only thing, which is changing, is the way in which they disregard, discredit and demoralize our genuine emotional uprisings and demands. There is no hope, not even a shred of hope that Kashmir in particular and the world in general can expect that India will sensibly and mindfully respond to the needs and demands of Kashmiri people at any time, in the present or in the future. India is a heedless rogue in this world for a Kashmiri, who is not only ignoring the genuine demands and the genuine agony of the Kashmiri people but is also ignoring every international body or community which find themselves also helpless in front of this arrogant country. And unfortunately India turning into a rewarding hub for future investment and growth, for this economic drawn present world is bringing silence to the lips of big nations. Let me clearly indicate to the people of Kashmir who can understand the tactics of India. We Kashmiris have to bear this thought in mind that India is not going to respond to any International pressure or diplomacy as is very clear from the past sixty-nine years. The only thing that will provoke a response now, is an indigenous uprising to curb their growing arrogance.
In the last seven decades, and even before during cruel Maharaja rule there is no decade that passed without an uprising and without brutality and tyranny. Every time we generate the momentum and we sacrifice limitlessly our time, lives, possessions and yet still succumbing to the brutality, tactics and cunning design of this insensitive regime. There is no doubt, that no dream can be fulfilled without sacrifice and that no goal can be achieved without nourishing it with efforts and passion. But if we, the present intellectual generation, cannot value this effort and sacrifice, we will be held responsible by the future generations who will go through this again and again. It is a moral responsibility of not only those people who have been labeled as leaders of our nation, or those who has been labeled as stone pelters, but it is an obligation upon every responsible and educated individual of Kashmir to respect and recognize this sacrifice for once and for all.
For that “Day” we will definitely need you and without you we will not reach there. And one day you will definitely be part of this, but at what cost that “Day” comes really does matter. If you people who have the ability to listen, to read and to understand, listen to your hearts and read and understand your responsibilities, then you may start to value that “Day”, be curious about that “Day” and feel joyful about the coming of that “Day”.
It is a “Day”, which will decide, and a “Day”, which will pay respect and regard to all those sacrifices laid by our nation. This is not possible just by dreaming, thinking, it will be possible by also doing and contributing whatever it requires. It is not impossible, but it may seem so to the people who don’t feel responsible, to those who are cowardly, narrow minded, who are insensitive, who have limited knowledge of history and who are corrupt. But believe me, we will experience that “Day” like other nations in the past. What matters is when that “Day” comes. It will be a great to be part of tiding that will bring relief to the whole of the nation and an end to the everlasting agony and misery. This day when we will get relief and relieved from the tyranny of a tyrant. Who not only have eroded our emotions but also has corrupted our minds to believe that day may not be possible.
There is no doubt that we have cherished and cradled this thought for generations. So what is this thing that is lagging in accomplishing this achievement of experiencing this beautiful day? Imagine you being a part of this salvation, salvation not of a person, not of a state but of generations. Imagine if our beloved Kashmir had been saved in 1930s from our ex-tyrant, remember how many emotions we sacrificed, how many deaths, rapes, molestations we received, how much progress and prosperity we lost in our way while fighting this relentless occupant who has not only thwarted our emotions but corrupted to the level that we as a nation are not able to believe what we are able. We have been corrupted and perverted to the level that we are begging for things that are in our hands and that we can achieve with conscious approach.
This is a question to every person at this time in Kashmir who is experiencing the brutality, whether they are at home, whether they doctors, businessmen, policemen or, bureaucrats, whether they are teachers, scholars, writers or a scientists. Whether they are in Kashmir or abroad. How can they justify their existence in this kind of barbarism? Our young kids is being killed and blinded ruthlessly in the 21st century for protesting for their birthright, which even animals are enjoying in this century. It should shake the conscience of every Kashmiri intellectual, which debate short-term loses like education, state economy and development. They should ponder upon their real existence as a part of this nation before they shamefully start living under these so called normal conditions under India hegemony and will forget what has happen. How can they move forward? How can you live forward without those teenagers, that fresh blood from the last couple of generations? Why don’t you understand that this is an arrogant barbaric occupation that is not going to end unless you are not participating in the uprising otherwise it would be paramount to being part of the tyranny. If you cannot raise your voice at this juncture of life- you may end up in your graves, leaving behind your future generations under the same brutal occupation, If this is not the fact, go back in the history, which as I earlier mentioned could have changed our life and the lives of millions of others who are part of this humiliating persecution.
This is a simple thought for all the people I am addressing today, since the last so many years, even though everybody agrees that Kashmir had improved in terms of violence, India is still not ready to withdraw the ASFPA which would not be considered as a favor to Kashmiris but a demand. Understand that this brutal country is not even considering us as normal human beings, how are we living? We are treated as dogs, to be caged, shackled, with inhumane designs. India as a state has never respected our intellect, they have always muzzled or muscled, one way or another and there are hundreds of examples of killing in order to silence the voices that sound a little louder than the common Kashmiri. Imagine if you people as a mass will voice the concern, this will be stronger than any external force, or form or community, whether national or international. And this is the real force that will achieve the dream of that day. The fact is that we need all Kashmiris to realize that this day will only be possible by coming together and voicing clearly and coherently to this immoral country.

It is high time for all those people who have a heart to feel and mind to think, to come out of the corruption of Indian occupation, to come out from the shells of their imaginary success, to come out from their shackles of uncertainty and help the present and the future generations for once and for all. My appeal goes to all the Kashmiris who enjoy offices and incentives by being intentionally or unintentionally associates of this brutal force. Their soil is soaked in blood, their brothers are grieving, their mothers are in shock, their friends are in pain and their houses are on fire, their neighbors are in agony and their own families are insecure. If you want to repent before you have reached your graves,this is the time to say to yourself, ‘We want this day, as soon as possible.’ Not only for yourself and your own family, but also for all those souls who are unborn who will pray for you even before they are born. Believe in the magnitude of your voice and believe in the difference you can make for these wailing and weeping mothers and bleeding and bruised children. Without you, this day is impossible.
We may have to wait for another generation, another decade, to wake ourselves to achieve this day, but the fact is, without you, this day is not possible. You are the voice, which can tear any boundary, which can shake any state, which can make everybody believe that Kashmir’s demand is genuine and possible.



And that Day will be AZADI.( In shaa Allah)

Monday, November 9, 2015

“In Memory of Gowher”



I heard a cry
a cry of my heart
one more squeeze
one more blow
one more stab 
received by my heart

I heard a cry
a cry of my heart
one more beat, 
one more emotion
stolen from my heart

I heard a cry
a cry of my heart
plucked with pain
yet to blossom
one more flower 
from my bruised heart

I heard a cry
A cry of my heart
It is all tears now
It is all pain

I heard a cry
A cry of my Kashmir
I lost my “Gowher” 
to this Criminal Spree.

Friday, August 14, 2015

My advice to my brothers and myself today when we are back in cage for them to celebrate

"what people say and write represent reflection of their thought
and the way they act reflect their faith and belief,
and when there words and acts reflect each other they are true people "
And we need them for...
"Azaadi"

Tariq

Monday, November 12, 2012


November 12, 2012: New York

This is me:

pain again, and loneliness;and tremor of exertion
who mixed up these emotions like colors, distorted;
i am in the middle, with a weak faith to lean on
how about people around; caution!

How is my kashmir:

In my vacillation, lost in my futile emotions,
the pain is deep
i wake up lost in my past, a painful soul:
and long time painful body
which one is true , which one fake
neither a cry nor any comfort:
who created such achy vacillation
how long and how old, did you ask?

one more time, one more day.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

NIGHT AT GOWALTA - Tragedy Remembered.



 INTRODUCTION: BEFORE I NARRATE my STORY, I WOULD LIKE TO INTRODUCE MY READERS TO THREE ASPECTS,  ‘GOWALTA - A VILLAGE’  ‘THE REASON FOR TRAVEL’   AND ‘MYSELF’
                                     
GOWALTA IS A SMALL AND SERENE VILLAGE, A BEAUTIFUL DELL IN THIS VALE, 130 KMS FROM SRINAGAR. It is located on the old known course ‘LOC’ (Line Of Control, which is ages old scourge beating our being) in Indian-occupied Kashmir. This beautiful village, is located about 3000 ft above sea level, populated by about 2000-2800 people most courageous and courteous, unaware of the luxury we have tasted and enjoyed, in a tranquil and serene atmosphere free from dust and din, nature has embellished every corner of life with its own colours. Gowalta-a beautiful village; looking as though it has been carved by nature on a steep hilly forest, thickly thronged with lush green, luxuriant vegetation and endowed with versatile natural resources. In short; nature on its best display.

The reason to travel to such village was not, to be enchanted by this beauty, nor was it a part of trekking, not a picnic or an adventure. There was an eternal reason to visit this village on 13 oct. 2005, following the dark morning of 8th Oct 2005 when Kashmir on both sides of LOC watched and experienced a tragedy to mourn for generations to come. One of the deadliest earthquakes I have ever experienced shook every grit and grain as well as our conscience, destroying most of Kashmir.

The morning of 8th Oct 2005, the earth started to tremble violently in a horrible way, the way mentioned in our holy Qur-an…When the earth is shaken to her utmost convulsion_ sura Al-Zalzala –(lit. The Earthquake), making us rethink our existence. Thousands of people, men, women, old and young, houses some strong, some weak, vanished like chinar ash in the wind. The grief of all this was the reason to travel to this village- responding to an eternal call, which our heart felt for all those who suffered and are still suffering.

  … I am a “doctor” & know how to treat ailing ………yet I know, it is Allah the only God who actually cures, still we could not restrain our senses to respond to the call from those mountains.
 We left for GOWALTA- a village at 6 am on 13 Oct 2005………….
         
 Every scene of Kashmir valley used to mesmerize my senses but now none.

For As I left…I was to see some of worst scenes of my life. To feel some of the most painful moments of my life, in sharing the agonies and worries of my brothers and sisters.  In treating the ailing with the hope that Allah will cure. To listen to some of their untold stories. To face the reality even if so harsh and ugly it is.

And finally we were on way…seven doctors and twenty-one volunteers and none but God almighty…on our way towards our destiny Gowalta – the village, towards our aim to mitigate some of the suffering.

Relief for victims and its proper disbursement were big issues during these after-quake days. We had brought with us a few trucks of relief material including food items, clothes and other basic amenities in addition to medical relief.

I was never out of a ‘puzzle’ in my mind as I left for Gowalta. This ‘puzzle’ made me more inquisitive and meticulous about everything I met, saw and felt in a unique and perplexing way, making me restless ever since. The others discussed ways to the get best out of the relief measures, all the doctors and volunteers, but I was never there because of my puzzle. My puzzle was nothing more than;

What was the reason for Allah- The Only God for such heartbreak and tears sprouting at the devastation and destruction? For such…

 After two and half hours travel we reached Julla a village 10 Kilometers from Uri.  At eleven in the morning, the sun climbed with us over our heads with ever increasing intensity…and we heard rumours…
                                                       …there is…..no road…

The road beyond Julla was not in shape to allow us to move ahead, as landslides had done their job. By falling prey to the quake even the gigantic mountains had shunned their arrogance and majesty. Some of the worst landslides redrafted the topography of the region, as if no road had ever existed.

As everything came to a halt, the place became thronged with vehicles, relief workers and some hundreds of victims who had been traveling from cut off villages, crossing mountains on foot, searching for some relief. We also like the others stopped near Julla and spoke to gathered victims about the conditions of beyond villages not in communication and contact because of landslides. They narrated-

  No food, shelter, bodies still under debris & people hungry for words of sympathy, injured still waiting for hands of healers & children still in state of vertigo waiting for some one to come & console.

And among them Peer Baba with a long beard, garish white-not shining- a little unusual, as dust had smothered most of it, the saddest look upon his face. He was holding his chin with one hand & a stick finely crafted perhaps by his own hands to help him over stiff & difficult terrain, in the other. He uttered words…mentioned GowaltaGowalta.

Before we had left for Gowalta I had already seen the ugly face of life & nature. Yet I had never envisaged such a pathetic situation. Such situations make you gasp for air…I saw people who had survived this catastrophe, moving around with all their emptiness. They had lost everything. I could never exactly understand those expressions, which their faces were wearing as if they are new to this world where you& I live.  They chase, throng and hang around every vehicle they see heading towards them & sometimes I thought bizarrely that they wanted to push them in that deep gorge where Jehlum was flowing so serenely & smoothly over those age old giant slippery stones. Sometimes I thought they are in search of their lost loved ones, but was never sure. All their pale dusty faces & yellow eyes, muddy heads, eyebrows & eyelashes, ragged clothes, some bare feet with exhausted legs and weary eyes told a dreadful tale. Everything was in shambles; nature had really made them face the dustiest of their fortune and fate.

We decided to distribute most of the food and items of clothing at Julla as we would not be able to carry them on to Gowalta, so we decided to carry only medicines there.
…. I stood away from this crowd & the relief vehicles and watched. I felt as if everything was speaking to me, every single scene telling thousands of stories.

I saw children so innocent& thought again about my puzzle why? Their unwashed faces over days, unnoticed expressions & unattended cry, with their hands so small & so innocent they would never be noticed in such a frenzy & crowd. One hand on their stomach and another plunging towards a relief distributor but alas! Even after an hour-long effort, I see that hand empty.

     See irony of life everybody aches feels hunger & pain however innocent he may be.

I saw old people some too old to be in such crowd where they were unsafe more than anywhere.

See the irony how little life & how little desires you may have left inside…. still you need shelter& food & still feel pain & hunger.

 I saw an old man with a wrinkled face & open mouth “…maybe he was in respiratory distress”. With long beard half white & half mehndi red. May be last month he used henna to dye it before he had ever thought of such a disaster. There was dust over his face, stuck in the deep folds of his wrinkles.  He was silent but his sodden hand with clubbed fingers and coarse palm with its black creases, was wide open and empty, clearly visible unlike those of that child saying clearly -

I can’t hold your relief but I can’t hold my hand back as my stomach is empty & leading me to death every single minute I remain away from food...

 I felt he was saying I am old …old enough to die but still not dead. He was using his second hand to support a weak & fragile osteoporotic spine with a stick.

 I had heard long before, that women of the mountains are really beautiful as nature nourishes them with her sap. Now I saw them some young & beautiful, some old but still unique in their beauty…Some lactating carrying their suckers over there chests and shoulders and some pregnant trying to convey their grief to one beyond the horizon at this play of pain and agony.
I see them a little confused and lost; a little worried among this meddled mass of living reality….

Were they worried about their houses, which have bowed in front of wrath of nature and have given to
destiny?
Or… their children, they feel are more tender and fragile and innocent to face this
Or… about there regular chores a little difficult they now have turned,
Or… about the winter which is over there heads and will be cold and difficult,
Or… about something little important like coming night, sunset and goat and grass?
                    
So I moved to watch myself, for I had a puzzle to solve as well

Are these people so bad? That God cursed over them, over their acts and put them such a trouble.

...I thought about my self and my existence in this situation where life had lost its value and where Allah- the only God, seems least worried about our survival. I thought about destiny, this I felt was my first clue… Meanwhile my colleagues were calling me over to tell me about the next step of our programme.   I know nothing more than it is Gowalta –a village

 It was 1:30 pm and we were feeling the effect of fasting in our action. And they, the People around us said-
                               “ It is too late to return back from Gowalta now.’’
Looking at each other we said nothing, as our hearts were ready to face even worse. They showed us vaguely the Direction in which we needed to move, as if they were showing something towards the sky. We looked and saw a steep mountain (the first step of our journey) before us and they conveyed that it was over, over and above & away from this mountain. We thought that this mountain is the only stiff & difficult terrain we have to cross to reach Gowalta - a village, but we were completely & unwisely wrong.

 Before we left we took required medicines & things we required to stay over night. Nights have grown colder in Kashmir it was all horror & dread to think of. We climbed that visible mountain, but the story didn’t end there. We walked for five hours when the sun was growing furious & our fasting began to sing its song.

 It was easier to move on the edge of a sword, than on these unknown ways; where on missing a single step-you might slide thousands of feet down to ground. As we moved on those natural ways & untouched peaks, I met some strange people, some interesting landscapes, some unknown vegetation & some untouched stones as if they were talking to me & I was talking to them. They taught me about fate, about God. They greeted me welcomed & some times frightened me so strongly. They made me feel every grit & grain under my feet making me listen to sounds & the silence among those vales & on the ways. They made me to feel Allah & his presence they taught me about soul & its goal…

 We climbed & climbed…descended…& again climbed, our feet aching for all these adjustments. Our shoulders started to curse us for the weight they carried, but ignoring their laments we crossed miles. We reached not Gowalta- a village but somewhere near as we could see that village I imagined before visiting-except for the destruction & devastation.
      
 … I never missed anyone in the way. I looked into their eyes searching for more clues to my question. I have heard faces are deceptive but eyes are windows to the soul. Their eyes were of varied colours but they appeared similar because their grief was similar. And yes I saw something floating in their eyes….

I thought it was a lament they have for their GOD
 I thought it was some burden they wanted to share
 I thought it was some unknown letter for unknown places, where their loved ones had left.
I thought it was grief but in the end it was only something God, Allah had left in their life…

 We crossed a bridge, on the other side was security post, they stopped & asked a few questions.
                    
We Kashmiris have ever been asked to prove identity in our own homeland.

 They said ok You can move ahead. We stopped for a while, letting our body prepare for the last hectic move. We patted each other’s shoulders, praising one another for the effort & the courage. Thanking God we again left.
       
As the dark carpet of night was falling we reached Gowalta. I saw the sun setting between two mountain peaks so beautiful for eyes to see, but there was much more for eyes to see making them spill bloody tears. It was too late to see patients and we were too exhausted to even think. Before we gave in to our exertion, we looked in & around Gowalta village. I saw houses just buried in undug graves, covered with their old tin roofs…seeing only tin roofs.  We saw some unsupported shelters and a few tents …among them people engrossed in daily chores and conversations.

I walked among one of such scenes. I found an elderly man, whom I greeted-

“assalam-u-alaikum”.

replied the old man –

“walikum Sit down you young men…”

We did, feeling privileged to listen to this old man who was not looking much towards us but around. He continued, saying,

“I had two houses & lost both. & I lost five family members”… pointing towards a nearby graveyard, our lips pursed to release the air slowly that we had taken with a deep breath.

I listened to that old man endued with gentleness. He talked about politics, about the past & present. I thought he was aware of everything even living on this mountain peak; certainly he was wise & knowing. I said,

“Winter is ahead what do you think to do now?

His reply was nothing but an example, which was more than an answer. “When a runner in a race runs with all his efforts, even if he doesn’t reach the mark he gives up,”… meaning that they have given up everything in front of God.

Soon after that I expressed my intention of leaving.

“ No no” he said. “It is iftar and you are our guests. Even if we don’t have homes, we still have heart…”

Initially I felt embarrassed but as he continued, I felt nothing is humanly possible to be done for such courageous people who certainly have given up all and left all to God with such faith. They all need a attentive & sympathetic ear to listen to their pain & agony which will prepare them for the second race. We took Iftar and left.
Night was falling and with it came rain.  Our thoughts turned to shelter.  Another man came to us-
don’t worry you are our guests. It’s true that we are in pain but we are not dead. What ever you need to spend this night comfortably ask & we will arrange’….

 Like nature slapped us…. like nature laughed at us. We had come to mitigate their suffering, now we started to suffer ourselves and they provided us with the  little with which  they are left. They arranged blankets, firewood & more. We spent that night like no other. The whole night I was thinking. I thought that these people have a lesson for humanity & if humanity exists anywhere still it is here.

Next morning we saw patients & tried to listen to their grief & giving them some medicine & few minutes & few seconds to feel their existence again, which they have forgot.

 Before we left they prayed for us for our courage and for our feeling for them. I know I can never forget those faces. I saw and I realized that Destiny & fate are in hands of Allah the only God & nothing can change it but Allah.

“My puzzle got a solution in end …
Worlds exists beyond world of eyes
Worlds exists beyond world of thought

Comfort begins where we see end

& Joy begins where we see end
God never speaks in words
His acts are genius
Even if something wrath it looks to us.”