M K Raina Ratnakar
|A true and highly valuable short story. keeping in view the present-day situation in the valley of Kashmir. It is an eye opener for our community members who still feel that Kashmiri Muslims will someday invite us back to Kashmir to live with them in peace. This story will also serve as an eye opener for other communities of India who feel that militancy and militants will soon be annihilated in the valley of Kashmir and they will be able to go to Kashmir to work and enjoy the hospitality of Kashmir Muslims.|
Early morning, the sun peeped though the glass windows of the room . A cool breeze was blowing. My eyes half open, falling, one by one on the objects in the room where I had fallen asleep. The old TV set which I had purchased when I was appointed as Programme Executive in All India Radio, the study table , shelves crammed with Chemistry and other books , photographs on the wall ……what time was it ? Which day? Which year? I must have fallen asleep at the place where my father would generally sit and after his passing away where my mother would sit and sleep also during winters. Ah! what a great solace is at this place of my home, I feel that my grandfather and grandmother would also have been occupying the same place for their own reasons. The timelessness of my home effortlessly skimmed over the calendar years.
I, now opened my eyes fully, stood up and remembered that I reached very late yesterday at Tourist Reception Centre, Srinagar and I have visited this home of mine after twenty seven years of exile. I washed my face and looked at everything in the room seeking an answer for my exile without thinking that not to talk of inanimate objects, today animate objects even do not provide answers , but I tried nonetheless .
As I reached Jammu in the morning yesterday, I was flooded with the memories of the past . I had fallen into a reminiscent mood as soon as I boarded the bus to Srinagar . As the bus reached Aakhran ( Mir Bazar ) which is near Anantnag , on the Srinagar – Jammu national highway, images of the past came thick and fast and my mood fluctuated from elation to dejection as I remembered my childhood and youth . My mother hailed from the village Kilam which was roughly four miles from Aakhran (Mir Bazar). Whenever my mother along with me and my younger brother visited Kilam, my maternal uncles would send three horses along with their care takers to receive us at Aakhran . Ah ! those memorable moments. The distance between Aakhran (Mir Bazar) to Kilam would be covered on horseback and when we would reach Kilam , almost all the inhabitants of Kilam irrespective of color, caste and creed would come to receive us. Mr Khalil Mohammad, a known person of Kilam, teacher by profession, and a colleague of my maternal uncle, Mr Prithvi Nath Munshi , ran a general store in the heart of the village . He would always be the first person to greet us because of the reason that his shop was just at the entry point of the village. He would offer some toffees to us . In front of the two bungalows , in which my maternal uncles lived , would run a fresh water river known as Harechoan. I don’t know whether it is still running or not , but a bath early in the morning those days in Harechoan was not less than a heavenly bath in river Ganges. A full blown river named Veshav added grace to the whole area and would meet us roughly at a distance of one and a half kilometer from Aakhran when we moved from Aakhran towards Kilam. To watch its flow from a distance of its banks was really a treat to eyes .Also, it was my privilege to have seen Khanebarnen, a highly sacred temple at Devsar village of tehsil, Kulgam, once thick with Deodhar trees and lush green vegetation around is now quite bare, as informed
Running parallel to all my recollections was one greatest worry : would my mission be a success ?
Surely it will succeed? That were the words of Lalita Ji when I had left Delhi. I would not have undertaken such a long journey at this age, had it not been Lalita’s insistence that I should accept the invitation of Safder .
As the bus reached Pampore, the air smelt warm and damp as if it was going to rain. This is the place where Lalita Ji worked in the Girls Higher Secondary School for a number of years. Pampore is the Saffron paradise of not only Kashmir, but of India as well. Though my place of duty was Srinagar, but every year, during saffron season, at least once a month on moonlit night, we had made it a point to watch the saffron fields which were just a few minutes away from our residence in Pampore . Always we were accompanied by some girls of the school, who would engage themselves in the collection of saffron flowers for us .
It started raining. This was not the rain which raged through in a brief flash of temper which created havoc. The rain seemed to me like the continuous weeping of those men and women who were forced to abandon their homes more than two decades ago .
Mohammad Safder Malik, the full name of Safder, and I had studied in the S P. Higher Secondary, School, Srinagar for a number of years . In addition to being class fellows, we were very close friends also. Both of us visited each other’s home almost daily and on Sunday’s whatever the dishes were prepared at our homes, the same were exchanged also. The daily consumption of milk at our home would come from Safder’s home as they reared a Jersey cow who would give at least thirty liters of milk daily. The remaining milk was sold by the family .
Safder’s father was a teacher by profession and a perfect gentleman. My father, though a Police Inspector, but a thorough gentleman like Safder’s father and with very less time to spare for the family would take out some time out of his busy schedule on Sunday’s to meet both the families to enquire about the welfare.
Batamaloo is the name of the place in Srinagar where Safder lived. His home was at a distance of roughly five hundred yards from the main road. This particular place in Batamaloo where Safder lived was not so big a place those days, inhabited by roughly thirty families, eight to ten shopkeepers, some artisans and laborers .
Safder was a very hard working person. He had risen very rapidly . None would have imagined that this son of a teacher from a place like Batamaloo would scale great heights .
One day, when I was basking in the sun at my rented accommodation in Delhi, I received a letter from Safder .It was only then that I realized that the well known millionaire of Kashmir Haji Safder Malik was none other than my friend Safder. Safder had mentioned about our past association in the letter and wrote to say that he was leading a retired life in Srinagar at Nishat where he has constructed a palatial house. He invited me to come and visit him.
After I read the letter, I tucked it away in the desk drawer, away from Lalita’s eyes. Though Safder had not made a mention of his wealth , the implications of his affluence and success were amply evident. I decided that it would be wiser not to show this letter to Lalita Ji .
Reading Safder’s letter brought back many memories. I remembered the match of cricket played by our school against S P. College, Srinagar in which both of us had made a century, Safder in the first inning and I in the second inning. Also, our teacher Mr Pran Nath Miya, who had the charge of N. C. C ( National Cadet Corps ); how highly proud he had felt when both of us were declared as best cadets in the parade of 26th January,1963. The races which were organized by Mr K.K.Hakhu who was the sports in charge of government of Jammu & Kashmir were won by Safder and me. I always used to run ahead of Safder and he would lag behind. yet, in the race of life, I had lagged behind . Safder had reached the summit of the race of life ,but for me it had been a path of obstacles with insurmountable hurdles in the road. Though, I was still running but , he was no longer running, now .
When we were at school, I had been the teacher’s pet. My handwriting and also the hand writing of one other student Jawansher, Autar Krishen Jawansher, the full form of his name , was considered to be the best in the class. The teacher Mr Jagan Nath Saraf would say that my handwriting is as beautiful as pearls. I was an ace at mathematics . The teachers were never tired of praising me. Safder’s handwriting was shabby and he hardly knew anything of mathematics . I always wrote notes for him to save him from the scolding of teacher’s. Safder had written all this in his letter in good faith and affectionately. But, fate had made me --- the man of pearl like handwriting and excellent mathematics, a worthy and an honest government official and Safder of the shabby handwriting and poor at mathematics, a man handling millions of rupees and a name in political circles .
Lalita Ji, many a time would speak of the prosperity of my friends and relations. It filled me with sadness. Though, I didn’t envy Safder or anyone else , but, I had never been able to convince her that no human being on this earth has got everything and many of those who seem to be highly prosperous to us are not so and have other deprivations in life which could not be measured in material terms.
Whenever I had tried to explain things to her, I would also begin to have doubts. Though, I had been a student of science but, I always believed in fate probably due to the reason that I had gone through a very bad childhood experiences. It was difficult to explain all this to Lalita Ji and that is why I did not want to share Safder’s letter with her. If and when she would read it, I was sure that she would start asking questions and I shall have to provide so many answers to so many questions, as such, I had preferred to let things be. But my luck probably wanted to put me to a different test when a few days later another letter came from Safder and the same fell into the hands of Lalita. I was left with no option but to tell her about my childhood friendship with Safder. Lalita was pleased. “ You never told me that you know Safder Malik, the known millionaire and highly influential person of Kashmir”.
“ I also didn’t realize that he was the same person who had once been my close friend .”
“ He mentions of having written to you earlier also, “ said Lalita .
I did not reply. Lalita did not notice my silence. She was pursuing her own line of thought. “ Such a big man and he makes no show of it. You must go and see him. How affectionately he writes ! How keen he is to meet you !”
I wanted to say ," look Lalita , he is an influential person and a millionaire. He might be keen, but to go to Srinagar from this place costs a lot of money and the purpose may not also be solved ? " But, I remained silent because I knew why Lalita was so keen on my going .
I felt, Lalita was not to be blamed. Any other woman in her place would have done the same. I had lived my life as an honest official and yet did not own a flat in Delhi, nor did I have any money worth mentioning. We had married in the year 1975. In the beginning of our life at Srinagar, though we lived in a good house at Srinagar, but our responsibilities towards our children and parents made us to remain highly struggling till the time of our forced migration to Jammu in the year 1990. Thereafter, also the struggle continued. Education of children and facing day to day problems in absence of anything in the name of clothes, bedding and even the utensils of the kitchen which had been left by us at Srinagar at the time of forced exile made life more problematic. Problems became insurmountable when in the year 1996, I was transferred to Delhi . There had never been even a rupee to spare, still we had survived the years of deprivation .
Now , the problems had crossed the level of tolerance. The only hope on which we banked upon to secure the future of our daughters, was the hundred kanals of land which we had at Dambidol village of Kulgam in the valley of Kashmir. The land had been distributed by eight people of the village amongst themselves after our migration from Srinagar. No compensation for the land had been paid to us. Many a time, I had written to Prime Minister of India / Chief Minister of J&K state for the restoration of the rights of the land but of no avail. Tehsildar of Kulgam was also informed a number of times for the like action. No action took place at any quarter. In addition a plot of land measuring four kanals at Sanat Nagar was under the occupation of a person who ran a factory there .
Our daughters , Santosh and Sushma, had a difference of three years in age, beautiful and attractive, both of them were of marriageable age. We were eager to get them married at the earliest. Both had graduated from Delhi university, but were without any job . All the prospective bridegrooms had not accepted to marry the girls because of their being without a job. I knew that no bridegroom would mind, if assured that they may be able to get a job and paid a handsome amount to run the household with these girls, but I knew that I would never be able to fulfill the necessary requirement of the grooms . Our greatest worry was these daughters of ours . I worried about my daughters more than I worried about Lalita who did not keep a good health. Many a time, I had a feeling that the future of these daughters will be bleak, if something untoward happened to me or Lalita ..
Very clearly, under these circumstances, I knew Lalita would urge me to come closer to my friend, Safder. Lalita would find all sorts of ways to talk about Safder. She praised him and made me understand that Safder who had been my close friend and can do a lot for his old friend like me . Lalita, thereafter without mincing any words urged me to go to Srinagar and ask Safder to help me in restoration of land at Kulgam and getting jobs for these two girls in his establishments .
I realized that Lalita’s idea made a great deal of sense. Why should I then feel shy of asking for help from Safder. Probably, Safder will help, no sooner the matter is discussed with him. The way Safder had invited me to Srinagar made me feel that he will come to my rescue spontaneously .
After a few days Lalita broached the subject again and I replied, “ I would not mind going to Srinagar , if it were a matter of few hundreds of rupees ,but………..”
Lalita gazed at me thoughtfully and then suddenly seemed to come to a decision. “ If you really intend to go ,” she said, I may be able to manage a few thousands for you.”
“ Yes, I do, I want to go and tell Safder everything about my circumstances .”
Lalita remained thoughtful for some moments. Then she stood up and went into the kitchen, where she began to undertake a search of the cupboards and rice tins and returned with a torn purse wrapped in a torn cloth.“ Please open the purse and count the money. I hope it will be sufficient for your Srinagar trip.”
I opened the bundle with trembling hands because of the reason that Lalita had saved the money in small amounts over a number of years for some emergency which would crop up any time in the household . However, tears rolled down my eyes as I started counting the old and discolored notes .
There was enough money for the trip to Srinagar, but in the heart of hearts, I was sill hesitant. I could not still digest the idea of going to Srinagar and ask for help from my friend Safder. But, Lalita was adamant. “ This money is probably for the same reason. You know what bad times we have undergone with effect from the year 1990 after our forced exile from Srinagar, Kashmir “.
I accepted what she was saying. A date was fixed and I at once wrote to Safder that I will be leaving soon by train to reach Jammu and thereafter will leave for Srinagar. Safder responded immediately, rang me up and said that he would meet me at the Tourist Reception Centre, Srinagar……….
Suddenly, the door bell rang. I felt terrified and my thought process came to a halt. The idea that Some militants in my neighborhood may have come to know of my arrival at Srinagar and they may have planned to kill me engulfed my whole being . Probably, I would not have felt so terrified, but because of the reason that we lived in the interior of Srinagar city at Syed Ali Akbar, Fateh Kadal which was highly infested with militancy in the year 1990, and many killings of Kashmiri Pandits had taken place in the area made me highly terrified. I remembered the date 04-04-1990, when two militants had come to my home in my search early in the morning and were asking for my address in the back lane of my house from my neighbor, Mr Gulam Rasool . Mr Gulam Rasool was living opposite to the lane of our house on the back side. Mr Gulam Rasool became dumb and could not utter a word . He did not sum up the courage to say anything . He neither said “ yes “ nor did he say “ no.“ I was watching all this through the glass panes of my window . I did not take even five minutes to take out Lalita and my children out of my home from the front door of my house to take a Shikara ( boat ) because of living at the bank of river Jehlum, cross the river Jehlum , reach Banamohalla ( place across the river Jehlum ) wherefrom, I took an auto to reach Tourist Reception Centre, Srinagar to board a Taxi for Jammu .
However, the door bell rang again, this time more fiercely. I looked out from the glass pane of the window of my home and I found a tall, bald and fat man calling my name at the pitch of his voice. I could not recognize him at once, but somehow felt that he is Safder. Safder shouted my name .
I opened the door. Safder at once embraced me and almost crushed me into his arms as if he had felt lonely for a number of years without me. Tears rolled down his eyes and he again and again embraced me which made me feel that he was really in need of someone who can become his companion for future years of his life and probably one like me who had been a close friend and associate of him from early childhood . After exchanging a few anecdotes of childhood, he wiped out his tears , laughed and said, “ you are as slim as you were at school, only your hair has turned grey. You have not changed a bit . Fat brings on all kinds of diseases like diabetes, high blood pressure and heart problems."
Now, Safder, looked at me in a questioning way just asking me that why I have not let him in and made a forced entry in the house. Searched for my luggage, picked it up, held my hand and directed me to follow him . While walking Safder went on“ you are just the same as you were in school, simple and straightforward, a man of few needs like all other Kashmiri Pandit boys of that time. Unlike me most of the Muslim boys were very complex in nature, clever, cunning and deceitful . I am also trying to simplify my life, but it is very difficult. I do not succeed."
As we made our way out of the courtyard of the house, a driver who had been waiting at the main road took my luggage from Safder and opened the door of the car. “ My fondness for the costly cars persists ,” Safder remarked. " Though I have given up so many things because I am diabetic and hypertensive, but there are certain things which I cannot deny to myself . "
On the way home Safder told me everything about himself. After he had finished schooling at S P Higher Secondary School, Maulana Azad Road, Srinagar, he had gone to Gandhi Memorial College, wherefrom he had graduated. Later, he got appointed as a teacher. After some years he started his own business because of the reason that government of India waved off all loans taken by every businessmen in Kashmir and fresh loans were allowed to be taken for starting new businesses. Most of the Muslims of the valley of Kashmir started their own businesses after taking loans from the banks at nominal interest. He began to prosper in business and from lakhs he began to earn crores . Gates of prosperity opened for him day in and day out. Cars of different sort, bungalows and other high tech gadgets to live life comfortably came into his home . He married Tabassum, tall & beautiful, good & intelligent. Their sons Shafi and Shouqat proved to be intelligent and clever and brought them joy of their life .
But unfortunately, when happiness goes on coming , ill luck and grief waits round the corner .
Five years ago Tabbasum had fallen ill. She was diagnosed as having the cancer of duodenum. She was treated by the known specialists at All India Institute of Medical Sciences, Medanta, Medicity, Gurgaon and also at Apollo hospital, New Delhi. She had been given the best treatment, but in vain . After the death of Tabbasum, Safder had become highly depressed .He had lost interest in life. He had felt terribly lonely because his sons were deeply involved in business and remained busy day and night .
He had already set up a charitable trust in the name of Tabassum . He had no material bonds of any sort. Shafi and Shouqat were average students but proved to be very clever and intelligent businessmen. He has handed over the reins of business to his sons and is totally free .
The car arrived at Safder’s residence at Nishat. Safder took me around his house with great pleasure showing me every nook and corner of the house . It had never been my good fortune to have seen such a luxurious bungalow like that of Safder . I was pleased to be there with Safder.
In the mean time Safder called Rehman. Safder introduced me to Rehman and told me that he is from Bihar . He is the butler and there are
other servants also and all of them are from Bihar . You know, Kashmiri Muslims neither work as laborers now nor do they work in the fields for cultivation of paddy . It is our brethren from Bihar and UP who undertake all these works for us and we pay them appropriate wages. This way, we have been able to help our Muslim brethren, who otherwise were living in inhuman conditions at their places of birth like Bihar in India. You will also be happy to know that many of them are happily married in the valley of Kashmir. Their sisters and daughters have also married to many Kashmiri young men .
Safder noticed my expression and said ,” I can understand that you do not find any simplicity in this house as you found in the house in which we lived at Batamaloo . We , I mean the Muslims of Kashmir have changed a lot . We have not remained that simple. Government of India has changed our lot to the best possible life style which can be found in any part of the developed world even at the cost of the deserving people in the other parts of the country . By pumping in crores of rupees in different ways , most of us live in palatial buildings and have become rich within only a few years .
To tell you the truth, I have been feeling ashamed of myself as I met you and brought you to my house. You are so natural, free of cleverness, free of arrogance , free of deceit, free of the fear of gun and free of stresses of life . We do not know, when Pakistan or any other country will make fool of our youth again and the gun will surface again to make us penniless. That will be the worst time for the people living in Kashmir .We find ourselves caught in the cobweb of gun. Recently, in Sopore, a number of people have been killed because they had got mobile towers built on their rooftops. Though we have made crores, but now we find ourselves caught in a vicious circle. We would like to get out of it completely but cannot. Unwanted natives from many countries of the world live in the valley of Kashmir whose threat looms large on our heads as the Damocles sword. Pakistan flags and the flags of ISIS are being hurled at one place or the other without any rhyme or reason, even when every one of us knows that India has made us prosperous and we have progressed by leaps and bounds. Do you think that the palatial buildings which you find all around here could have been possible to be built by the Muslims of Kashmir, if government of India would not have given crores of rupees for us in the name of so called development ? I always pray to God to keep us with Indian nation and save us from the tentacles of the octopus of militancy, but unfortunately our young men and women do not understand all this. They start stone pelting any time on the Indian forces without any rhyme or reason . Recently a Kashmiri Muslim army officer Umar Fayaz of the Rajputana Rifles was killed by militants in Shopian. Idiots, they do not understand what they are doing. Killing their own men. Not only that , but they have decided to target every Muslim of Kashmir who has joined the police force or the army . Strange, but true. They do not understand that any one can make career in any field of his choice and you will not believe it that many Kashmiri Muslims have become IAS and IPS officers. These fools do not understand all this and follow the dictates of separatists and militants .
In the afternoon ,when we met for the lunch at the dining table, Safder said,” I have asked the butler to cook special vegetarian dishes like Paneer (Cheese) , Damaloo ( Specially prepared potatoes ) and Nadroo ( Lotus stem ) for you. I am sure that you will enjoy these .
After having lunch, Safder asked the driver to take out the vehicle and we drove towards Gulmarg . While we were moving towards Gulmarg, Safder inquired about my family briefly and then began to praise the beauty of Kashmir. “ How beautiful is our Kashmir ? I generally go to Gulmarg on Sundays and spend a few hours in those Deodhar trees of the forests of Gulmarg . Sometimes, I stay there for a day or two also. If you will listen to me , then I will tell you that you along with Lalita Ji should try to spend at least six months of summer here in Gulmarg to save yourself from the scorching heat of Delhi.” The words , “ I would , but I cannot afford it,” remained un uttered because of the reasons best known to me .
Safder looked at me and continued,” A person like you who has very less needs, a devoted wife, two pretty daughters should be able to find peace anywhere and everywhere in any part of the world . The people like us who are involved in politics, business and so many other wanted or not wanted pursuits of life and who have to take care of all the developed contacts and develop new contacts as well find no solace anywhere except Kashmir though we always remain disturbed. That is why, I come to a quite place like Gulmarg to find peace and solace for some days . "By the way , I may tell you that Pakistan border is nearby from this place. Shafi and Shouqat are regular visitors to this place ."
Till this time, a sort of inferiority feeling had already crept in my mind , but somehow, I summed up the courage and said, “ I do not know what makes you to think in that fashion. Actually in the present day life every one of us is disturbed one way or the other. I am also under stress and strain of one sort or the other."
“ I do not agree, “ the more you earn , you may have more worries. The more you go deep into politics, the more enemies you create. The more contacts you develop, more evil effects of money surface. A man who lives a very simple life , as you live does not feel disturbed at any stage of his life ,” Safder silenced me by his effective words as if I had been hypnotized by him .
We reached back in the evening . At night , Safder made my bed himself and invited me to sleep . He also spread his mattress on the floor along the side of my bed . Though I slept immediately after I laid myself on the bed , but Safder could not sleep for quite a long time . During the night also when I woke up to drink a glass of water, I found him awake .
Next day , we went to Pahalgam. Pahalgam is the place where I had spent a number of years of my childhood, My father served in the police station here for quite some time. During that period Safder had also visited us a number of times. I made Safder to remember the spots at Pahalgam where we would play. Safder said that he often visits Pahalgam to remember those childhood years which make him to release the tensions of life. There is no doubt in it that Pahalgam is ultimate in its natural beauty but, I could hardly enjoy the beauty of Pahalgam worrying about my mission.
Two days had already passed and I had not spoken anything about my mission to Safder .
Next day we went to Achhabal and Kukernag and thereafter on the other day we went to Sonamarg and stayed there for a night .
That night after having dinner, I resolved to speak at last. I began with my family and my marriageable daughters and summed up the courage to say, “ Safder , I am really worried and under great tension …………….”
" You, under tension and worried ? But, why and what for ? " Safder asked in amazement !
“ You don’t have to worry about anything in life. Your life has been very simple . You have not deceived any one in life , so none will try to deceive you . You have not cheated any one in life and none is supposed to cheat you . You have always been helpful to people. People like us whose life is entangled in so many problems revolving our lives should be worried. People like you whose needs and wants are limited have not to worry at all, " Safder answered .
" Still, if you feel that you are worried, then please tell me about all your worries."
“ Safder, I am worried about my daughters who are of marriageable age ……………….”
" What then, can’t they find their husbands? This is the age of woman’s liberty. Give your daughters enough freedom to find their husbands. Many Kashmiri Pandit girls have married in other communities at many places in India . Please do not keep them tied up. Have you not given any education to your daughters ? "
" Both of my daughters are graduates."
" Graduates , and they are not able to find husbands for them ? No , I can’t believe this ! Kashmiri Pandits have been very liberal in educating their girls . Kashmiri Pandit girls have also enough freedom to select their husbands , then why don’t you allow them do whatever they like ?"
“Safder,I want some jobs for them which probably you can manage……………….”
" What jobs, can’t they find a job in such a big country like India ? Ok, if they are not able to find a job in India, why don’t you put then in any business ? " "What business can I put them in", said I .
" Any business which suits them. Make enough money and spend also. Get anything done by money anywhere. Don’t think that your daughters will not be able to do anything. Have confidence in your daughters and see that they will be able to do miracles. They will make enough progress and will see that you also progress by leaps and bounds ."
I was shocked to hear this from him , but somehow kept my calm .
Safder, put his hand on my shoulder and began to teach me. "Shafi and Shouqat were two dunces doing nothing and roaming here and there for the whole day. One fine morning they came to me with a plan. Hesitantly I accepted their plan. Today they are counted amongst the most intelligent and affluent businessmen of Kashmir. They make money and spend also. They are so busy that I sometimes even don’t see them for months together ."
Though, I listened to him keenly , but intermittently remembered the mission also which had brought me to Kashmir .
Making another attempt towards my mission, I told him, "Safder, my hundred Kanals of land are also in the custody of some people in Kulgam . Your political influence will help me to get the land back or at least compensation for it . Also, a plot of land at Sanat Nagar, Barzulla is in the custody of a business man. I would request you to see that the same is restored to me……………………"
"Though I will try to help you, but I may not be of any help to you because people of Kashmir have decided that the landed and other property of Kashmiri Pandits should be occupied in every way and should not go back to them. On the lands of Kashmiri Pandits, schools, colleges, houses and the like have come up. Moreover, you have lived a very simple life, not only you, but every Kashmiri Pandit for that matter has lived a simple life with very less needs and wants. You have never shown greed of any sort. What for do you need this land or anything like that? Who takes land along with him when life comes to an end? Make money. Money is the only thing which can bring you luxuries of life. Enjoy life and make your daughters to enjoy life. Come and stay with me for whole life, if you like. Get your wife and daughters here. You have not to worry for anything. Everything will be provided to you. Now, stop worrying and be happy. I have decided that tomorrow, we will go to see the Mughal gardens .”
On hearing this I was dumbfounded. I smiled to myself and understood everything.
After coming back from Mughal gardens, I requested Safder to arrange my return tickets .
Though Safder showed inclination that I should stay for some days more, but I did not agree . My return tickets were arranged for the next day \\\\. Safder accompanied me to Tourist Reception Centre. Shafi and Shouqat put a trunk and bed roll along with my luggage and told me to hand over the same to one Mr Ibrahim who will be waiting for me at New Delhi railway station .
Safder embraced me tightly and bade me good bye. I reached Jammu railway station in the evening and then boarded Rajdhani Express for New Delhi . During night, a police party came. They told me to open the trunk. No sooner, I opened the trunk, to my astonishment the trunk was loaded with arms and ammunition, though covered by a mattress of cotton and old clothes. I don’t remember what happened thereafter. When I opened my eyes, I found myself in the I C C U (Intensive Cardiac Care Unit) of All India Institute of Medical Sciences, New Delhi .
|M K RAINA RATNAKAR|
The readers of Shehjar may please order for the book- KASHMIRIYAT AVOUCHED & OTHER STORIES authored by M K RAINA RATNAKAR available on Amazon & other on line platforms. The book is based on true 13 stories on genocide of Kashmiri Pandits and really eye opener for all Hindus of the country.
Added By Vinod Sharma
MR. Kalhan & Mr.Safapuri, MY FRIEND SAFDER is a true story. The names and the places named in the story are real. This is one of the stories from my book - KASHMIRIYAT AVOUCHED & OTHER STORIES. The book is available on AMAZON at a nominal price.
Added By M K RAINA RATNAKAR
Wellknit story written by Mr Ratnakar is an eye opener for every Kashmiri Pandit. Government of India may be able to send us back to Kashmir, but after how much time shall we have to come back to various parts of India. We are not even having licensed weapons to fight the militants or radicalised youth.
Added By Chintan Raina
Wellknit story written by Mr Ratnakar is an eye opener for every Kashmiri Pandit. Government of India may be able to send us back to Kashmir, but after how much time shall we have to come back to various parts of India. We are not even having licensed weapons to fight the militants or radicalised youth.
Added By Chintan Raina
Is this really true story ! I am keen to know
Added By Omkar Safapuri
Is this a true story?
Added By Kalhan Bhat