Kashmir Ki Kahaani

By Debasree Maity

Kuch kahaniyaan hum likhte nahi… woh likhwa leti hain.

Ek call se shuru hoti hain,

Ek diary se zinda rehti hain,

Aur ek qabr pe khatam ho jaati hain.

kuch kahaniyaan hum nahi chunte... Woh humein chunti hain. Ek dard ke panne se, ek diary ke kaid ki yadoon se — likhi jaati hain, lahu aur ishq ke syaahi se.

Us din subah-subah phone baja. Uske voice mein pehli baar ek khaali pan tha… Jaise kisi jawan ki aankhon mein sheher jalte dekh kar bhi koi aansu na aaye. "Raat bhar so nahi paya," usne bas itna kaha… "Tu ghar aayegi?"

Aur main… Main hamesha ki tarah chal padi... Sharma ka elaichi chai what heals us and club kachori for chinki (our sister, I mean his :) ) and ofcourse samosa for Uncle that's his favourite - aur kachori sabzi for us - Aunty ke baad main hih chhekhti chillati rehti hoon is ghar ka bada beta ke baad main hih inke badi beti hoon chinki is a daughter to us Aunty passed away in corona. He works in the Indian Army -  let's say Major Rehan. Jab bhi yeh apni posting seh halt stop ya phir ghar Calcutta ata hain - as our friendship ritual we meet every time at our favorite spot - Coffee house.

Uska Kashmir mein posting tha January - April… Aur April 22 ko joh huya tha, uske karan they schedule his routine patrolling in Kashmir’s LOC - for MAy 1-10th then by 11th May isko kolkata ake wapas Delhi jaana tha by 13th May,

May 8th, lekin mitti usdin kuch aur keh rahi thi. Garmi ke mausam mein bhi barood ki sardi thi. Wahan, ek diary mili usko kuch 500 meter door, ek laal khamoshi ke paas lete hue jism ke saath. Kisi, Aayat ki diary thi woh.

Usne diary ko uthaya. Kuch toh tha us sabdon mein, jo usse raat bhar jagata raha. Jab woh Calcutta ke liye nikla ek chhoti si halt pe, Usne subah sirf itna kaha, "Raat bhar so nahi paya... kya tu ghar ayegi?"

Of course yes... Mera bachpan ka dost, mera free ka therapist, jab mujhe bulaaye, main nahi jaungi toh aur kaun jaayega?

The moment I entered I saw chinki ran towards to me and hugged me thanks for coming sree di, eyes full in tears, boggo our 3 years old golden retriever he understands the emotions more than the humans in this house the one who jumps off in excitement when I am around is lying with a pale face in the floor - Uncle sitting in the chair sobbing - My heart ached for a minute and skipped a beat,  the world stopped and I almost shout - "Where is he? HE callled me to comee.." then I saw him coming in the living room from the balcony - “ yes I was watering the plants & papa was chopping off onions - bogo is said because chinki got a reality check and she was crying”- Rina di - she isn't a household help or the best cook but her family since 17 years serving for this family now her mom dad and she stays with us in that Rina Di came in charo tow joto jhamela eder dao dao didi amaye tumi - mere hath seh khaana leke woh kitchen main chali gayi and she knows whom to serve what obviously - hum ( main, chinki aur let's say Major Rehan ) went inside - peeche seh uncle said bogo ko shower karake khud fresh hoke puja karke in an hour meeting in living room.

We went inside Reh's room - chinki is in 2nd year pursuing Mass Communication from calcutta university, her one golden dream is to be a big news reporter and anchor - (cutting the story into short) main room mein ghuste hih chinki ro padi aur boli I definitely want to be a journalist a news reporter but the one who is authentic, fierce and based on her morals based on her studies and reality not to just cover TRP sree di - I consoled her and of course you got the bests to teach you the best baba-

“Why are you so scared and doomed? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER REH? ” - I shouted…HE siad - “I didn't do anything - these news reporters nowadays selling their values in the name of TRP “- and yes he is right thoughout the time be it war be it anyhting when the common citizen suffers they cover TRP stories to sell not the justice or peace that prevails - par chinki is too young and moreover knows her values ek bar padhai khatam hoh jaye we will talk to her about all these -USne mujhe wahi tok diya and said - “ I was posted in Kashmir kal mere jagah mera body bhi aasakta tha !!” - That one extra heart beat beats I can exactly hear that dhak dhak and said  “yahi daar tow hummein har waqt saati ta hain jab bhi tu borders par hota hain par pata nhi kaise iss baat seh sukoon milta ki tu garv hain humara - the life you wanted. you dreamt for - tu jee raha hain used, I am proud of you & we all are because of you and people like you and their bravery we- we humans of this nation can sleep peacefully”he said - “You know what this media won't cover is that those innocent blood paid the price for what is so uncertain and unknown - terrorists has no religion - criminal has no gender - only humans have and everything is beyond all these - when two beautiful soul in love lies in the pool of blood what’s the reason?? what was the religion - you will be in shock for years.” I tried to console him but before that he gave me a diary - A DIARY OF RED ( LOVE & BLOOD )

Aaj tak sirf kitaabon mein padhi thi… Lahu aur mohabbat ek saath likhi jaaye, toh kaise lagta hai?

Lekin jab usne mujhe woh diary di — Ek diary, 500 meter door mili thi, ek laal jism ke paas… “A Diary of Red” — Tab samjhi… yeh kahani sirf Kashmir ki nahi hai. Yeh kahani hai... us khamosh mohabbat ki jo sirhadein nahi maanti, Aur us khoon ki… Jo sirf ek rang mein beh kar bhi, har dil mein alag dard chod jaata hai.

"Kashmir ke phoolon jaise the hum… par un phoolon ke beech bhi kaante the… aur unhi kaanton mein ulajh gaya hamara pyaar."

“LOC pe mila pyaar…

na uss mulk ka raha, na iss mulk ka,

sirf meri yaadon ka ban gaya.”

"Kashmir ke phool aur barood... dono ek hi mitti mein ugte hain, par ek khushboo deta hai, doosra khoon... aur beech mein hum the, mohabbat ki mitti mein khilte hue..."

Main… 

Ek typical metro city girl, Jiski zindagi Insta reels aur office ke deadlines ke beech fasi thi,

Main Aayat. Mumbai ki thakeli si ladki. Mall, metro, deadlines aur dopamine ke injection se jeeti thi. NANI ka ghar kashmir ke line of control par thi par nani ke baad nani ka ghar gha rnahi lagta tow jana bandh tha - then 2010  kuch alag tha. Summer vacation mein nani ke ghar jaana pada. LOC ke us paar. Bilkul Kashmir ke border pe. Jahaan har subah ek naye dar se hoti thi... aur har shaam, ek nayi dua se.

Yeh kahani shuru hoti hai ek aisi zameen se... jahan chinar ke patton ke saath aksar goliyon ki awaz bhi gungunati hai.

LOC ke us paar, Kashmir ke us kone mein,

Jahan sirf army ke boots ki awaaz thi,

Aur phir bhi itni shanti thi,Jaise har dard ne yahan aake sukoon ki chadar odh li ho.

Wahin hua tha pehla pyaar.

Woh pehli mulaqat,

 Ek aam si shaam thi,

 Main apne camera ke lens ke peeche chhupi hui thi — 

Click.

 Click.

 Click.

 And tabhi woh frame mein ghusa — 

Let’s call him Azaan.

Ek Kashmiri ladka,

 Jiska chehra thoda sa noorani, thoda sa dard bhara tha. 

Jaise kisi ne uske chehre pe

 khushi aur udaasi dono ko ek hi brush se paint kiya ho.

Uski aankhon mein barf thi,

 Lekin unke neeche ek aag jal rahi thi — 

Pehle mujhe laga gusse se bhara hai,

 Par baad mein samjha,

 Woh sirf duniya se thoda sa khafa tha…

 Aur main us khafa chehre mein apna pyaar dhoondhne lagi thi.

Pehli baar Kashmir dekha tha na…

 Toh aisa laga jaise duniya ki har tasveer se dil bhar gaya ho.

 Jannat ka matlab tab samjha,

 Jab Pahalgam ke paani ne meri thakaan utaari thi,

 Aur waha ke rang be rang patton ne meri diary mein kuch nayi yaadein chipka di thi.

Pahalgam. Jannat ka dusra naam.

Woh jagah jahan aasman zameen ke itne kareeb lagta hai, jaise bas ek chhoti si chalang maaro aur sitare jeb mein bhar lo.

Nani ka ghar, ek chhoti si wooden house, do kadam chalke baraf, aur ek mod ke baad army checkpoint. Aur phir... woh mulaqat.

Pehli baar jab main usse mili... toh na koi shaam thi, na koi party. Bas ek aam si dopahar thi. Dhoop mein ghula hua ek pal. Main camera leke nikli thi, yeh vadiyan capture karne... aur tabhi woh dikha.

Uska naam tha, Azaan. Naam mein hi azaan tha, shanti tha, pukar tha. Woh ek Kashmiri guide tha. Local ladka. Ek lake ke kinare khada tha, aangan mein barf ki tarah thanda aur dhoop mein pighalti coffee jaisa halka muskurata.

Main: “Yeh jheel ka naam kya hai?”

Woh: “Yeh naam se nahi, yaadon se yaad rakhi jaati hai.”Us waqt mujhe laga... yeh sirf guide nahi hai. Yeh toh kisi novel ka adhoora hero hai.

Uske baal... Jaise barf se geele hue ho, lekin aankhon mein aag thi. Mitti ka ladka tha, par baat karta toh jaise shaam ki shaant chanda ho.

“Tum Mumbai se ho?”

Uska pehla sawal  yahi tha.

Aur meri pehli muskurahat.

“Haan, shayad.  par main hoon un jagahon se hoon jahan log apna dil har waqt kho dete hain…”

Usne hans ke kaha, “Toh fir mera bhi wapas laa do.”

Aur main? Ek sheher ki chhoti si kahaani, jo pehli baar kisi ke sher jaisi aankhon mein apna afsana dhoondh rahi thi.

Us din ke baad hum roz milne lage - Haar saal garmiyoon ke chuttiyon mein aur sardiyon ke chuttiyon mein bhi. Subah barf ki chai, dopahar chhupkar mulaqatein, shaam ko uski pahadon wali maggi.

Mujhe pata nahi chala, kab yeh summer vacation meri life ban gayi. Azaan ne mujhe Kashmir dikhaya, woh Kashmir jo news mein nahi milta. Aur ab kashmir bachpaa ke nani ke yaadon ke saath Azaaan ka dua bhi tha - har summer vacations waha jaana was mandatory to meet Azaan taaki haar dua qabool hoh jaaye.

Usne kaha, "Zindagi LOC jaisi hoti hai Aayat. Kab goli chal jaaye, koi guarantee nahi. Par jab tak khamoshi hai... mohabbat kar lo."

Aur phir ek din, khamoshi tooti.

22 April

Subah subah ek dhamaka hua. Pahalgam attack - Wahi tha Azaan -

Woh bhaag kar us jheel ke paas aake wapas bach sakta tha - wahi jheel jahan hum roz milte the.

Woh aaya hih nahi... dhoop mein uska chehra ab aur bhi udaas lag raha tha.

Usne apne bhai ko kaha, “Tum waapas jao... yeh jungal ab mehfooz nahi hai.”

Uske bhai na kaha, "Aur tum?"

Woh muskuraya, pehli baar uski aankhon mein aansu the: "Main Kashmir hoon... mujhe yahin rehna hai. Aur Ayaat ko kehna haar bar subhah ki pehli Azaan ke saath uski haar dua qubool hongi."

Ek ghante baad... Ek firing hui. Aur Phir Dusri… Tessri..Aur hote rahe - 

Ek bullet ek tourist ke gardan ke paas se nikal gayi. Aur ek uske dil mein chubh gayi. Kyunki he tried to save innocent tourists.

Us din Kashmir ka ek phool aur ek mehmaan... dono mitti mein mil gaye.

Mujhe yaad hai uska chehra, uski muskurahat.

Ab puchna hain kya log janenge : "Azaan Khan – Ek Kashmir ka beta. Ek mohabbat ka shaheed."

“LOC pe sirf fauj nahi marte... kabhi kabhi mohabbat bhi shaheed hoti hai.”

Summerscape thi meri zindagi ki sabse khoobsurat aur sabse zakhmi kahani.

Kuch rishte mausam ki tarah hote hain, Aate hain... garmi laate hain, Aur phir barf ban jaate hain.

Main 25th April seh LOC par ayi hoon wapas isbar garmi ki chuttiyan joh MAy - June mein leni thi, April mein leli - Azhar ka call - Azaan ka wahi last Dua - main pata nahi kaise jeeyungi Kashnir pehle Nani ke yaad seh thi phir Nani ki yaad seh gayi tow anaaa hih bandh tha aur ab Azaan.

May, 7th yaha paar kaal raat seh heavy shelling huyi - INDO-PAK War mein poor North India LOC pe hih hulchaal maachi hain wapas jaana tha kuch deadlines paar hoh rahe but I must say my manager isn;t saying - “Ayaat you have to complete it now even if you’re dead!!”Azaan hota tow kaise bhi karke mujhe wapas bhejta aur bolta ki woh kashmir hain usseh tow yahi rehna hain.. Aj subah ki pehli azaan mein yehi dua ki thi - ki meri Azaan ke kashmir mein mujhe baraf bana doh khuda..

That’s it yeh diary May 11th ko Rehan ko mila when they went to rescue people from Kashmir’s loc jaha may 6th seh heavy shelling hoh rahi thi kuch 5oo m dur Ayaat khoon mein lipti kashmir ki baraf lag rahi thi aur Azaan uska kashmir. - The Diary OF Red - joh koi cover nahi karega. 

By Debasree Maity