The pain of losing one's home: My story

By Deepika Bhan. Dated: 1/21/2019 1:02:17 PM

I have always avoided writing about my exodus from Kashmir. Perhaps the reason could be that I have not been able to deal with the pain of losing my birth home in Kashmir. People move and migrate from places in search of better economy and lifestyle, but this was not so for us. It was forced migration, rather a flight from an atmosphere of violence and persecution, from fear of losing one's life and honour.
I vividly remember the years from 1988-1990 in particular. This is the period I can recall as one of the darkest in the recent history of Kashmir. My classmates used to discuss about guns and firing in forests. They would talk about boys going across for weapons training and successfully coming back for the sake of some 'great cause'. I would find such conversations very thrilling and would discuss them at home only to be dismissed as silly talks. My elders could not believe that Kashmiris were picking guns for some unknown cause. Even I started disbelieving the stories that some of my close pals would tell me. The general notion was that Kashmiri is too fearful to pick guns. This notion was very strong and had clouded the rational thinking to the extent that they could not perceive the oncoming danger. This was the weakest moment for the Kashmiri Pandits who prided in wisdom and foresightedness. They failed to read from the warning signals that had been there right from mid-1980s. This made the perpetrators to easily manipulate the situation in Kashmir and successfully enact the plan central to which was to shut down those who seemed to be pro-India elements.
I remember the year 1989 when the fear had already started building up in the valley. Targeted killings of Kashmiri Pandits had begun. Vernacular press in the valley was publishing open threats to those who supported India, which for them was the Kashmiri Pandit community. A threat notice was posted on the door of my father's sister's house. Her husband was a professor in a college in Srinagar. His uncle was shot dead presuming him to be the target. The family had no option but to run for safety, leaving everything in their home. There was too much violence all around. Many Kashmiri Pandit leaders, officials and young men were killed. Every second day reports of minority women being abducted, gang raped and brutally killed was added to the fears. The security apparatus and the general administration seemed to have been completely paralysed. The community was not getting help from any quarters.
My parents left me in Jammu at one of our relative's house as they felt that I would be safer there. During this time, I got the opportunity to work at one of the best newspapers in the state, 'Kashmir Times'. This was the place which helped me stay connected with Kashmir. There was no phone connectivity with my family and posts were also very irregular, in fact to the extent of being nil. I was totally disconnected with my family. Then the mass exodus happened in the intervening night of19th-20th January of 1990. Thousands of Kashmiri Pandit families arrived in Jammu. It was agnoising to see families fleeing in cars, taxis, trucks, buses and even on bikes. A majority of them had left all their property and many had nothing but the clothes they were wearing. It was heart rending to see those people, who only a few days ago used to live in big houses, live in tents. I was fearful about my family. I had no one to talk to. My family was not among those who arrived in Jammu on 20th morning. I didn't know anything about them.
Finally, a phone call came from my father in the second week of February. I cried inconsolably and I wanted to come home. Dad was skeptical because of the situation in the valley. Diktats had been issued for girls and women to stay indoors and obey dress code. But I had to come home and so I arrived on February 21st by morning flight. I was excited when the plane touched Kashmir. Wintry chill greeted me as my Dad, accompanied by his Muslim friend, hurried me into the car. It was a different chill throughout the way and I didn't like it.
My Chotta Bazar Mohalla where my house was located seemed lifeless. The faces which have been there always seemed strange and un-recognisable. They seemed different and unfriendly. My mother and grandmother were happy to see me, but their faces were pale and apprehensive. The next morning, I woke up with huge noises coming from outside. The Kashyapa school, which was regarded as a predominantly Kashmiri Pandit school was up in flames. From my window, I could see the whole three-storey school building burning. Fire brigade did arrive, but by that time damage had been done. My father was very worried. He was the Principal of National School which was one of the biggest schools in Srinagar city. He had been cautious enough not to annoy anyone. Still, he was fearful. But I was not, because I was very happy to be with them. On 23rd February, my father had some work at our relative's house and I insisted to come along. It was just a ten-minute walk from our house. Suddenly, I felt two men coming too close to us with one of them almost pushing my father. My father held my hand tight and we almost ran to our relative's house. I could see my father shiver as he shouted at me for having forgotten to cover my head. And the next moment I felt myself wrapped up in a scarf and a big chaddar like shawl over my pheran. That was the moment when my father decided to send me back to Jammu. I protested because I did not want to live away from them. I did not want to go to Jammu or anywhere.
The next day my Dad and his Muslim friend decided to take me to the airport. The roads were full with protesters who were raising pro-'Azadi' and 'Nizame-e Mustafa' slogans. Our car was stopped at many places. But I had my head covered and all three of us raised our fingers in victory signs. I don't know why I didn't have the element of fear in me at that point of time. May be I felt one of them. I too shouted pro-Azadi slogans and raised my fist all through the route to the airport. I liked being part of the protestors.
The question suddenly came into my mind why had they not taken my community into confidence. May be we would have too joined them willingly. I reached Jammu and I again was disconnected with my family.
Lot many killings were happening in the valley. Our young neighbour B K Ganjoo was killed mercilessly in his home. His neighbour had directed the terrorists to the drum in the top floor of the house in which he hid himself. The terrorists went straight up and pumped bullets. Another was the Hindu shopkeeper who was shot in his legs. Vikas died in hospital because of excessive bleeding in hospital. It was said that Hindu patients were deliberately ignored during those days.
On 27th April, 1990 I got a call from my parents who had arrived in Udhampur. I just couldn't believe and took a bus to the place. My parents did not leave Kashmir when the mass migration took place because they believed in the words of their neighbours who vouched for their safety. But it was the same neigbours who later asked them to leave. It was they who took them to the Srinagar Tourist Centre where they bought three bus tickets for my father, mother and grandmother. We could not save anything from our house. Later the house was looted by the same neighbours and finally burnt down. My father was forced to sell the house for peanuts.
And thus I lost my home. My parents have not visited the valley ever since. The same neighbours do visit my parents in Uttar Pradesh but my parents are too reluctant to go back. It is not that they fear anything but somehow it is about the trust and the faith which perhaps died in 1990 when he was asked to leave.
Today, I may not have a home in Kashmir, but my yearning for my birthplace has not diminished. I continue to be the citizen of that place and I have passed the baton to my son. But in those three years, the dove died and peace vanished from the valley.
(Deepika Bhan is senior News Television journalist in Delhi. She was born and brought up in Kashmir. As a journalist, she has worked in Kashmir also.)

 

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