Caught in encounter
by Waqas Khan
“Every second person in Kashmir has a story to
narrate.” This was the last statement our teacher made in his lecture that day,
March 18th.... After the lecture finished, I and my classmates were
given an assignment by our teacher to find a story on the road or to look for those
‘second’ persons who could narrate us a story. We as usual took more happiness in
going out together then to find a story to submit as our assignment. We went to
our well fixed Chai Walaa on Bund to
have tea first. Long time before, the spot was decided to be a place to discuss
issues of high significance like Kashmir conflict, geo politics, religion and
so on… But, the meeting only served the purpose of stimulating our brains with
tea; filling our bellies with samosas;
and mostly jeering over our classmates’ peculiar attitudes.
After we finished tea we
reluctantly scattered to find story for our assignment. I talked to many people
but didn’t get any respond. Then I did realize how hard it is finding that ‘second
person’ and I shouldn’t have taken teacher’s saying so religiously. I finally
took some rest on an iron bench in Jehlum view Park at the Bund. There was
another boy sitting on the same bench. I started talking to him and fortunately
he was chatty. His name was Mohammad Arif. 28 years old. He was from Chadoora. He
had a fistful of beard and trimmed moustache. His face had dark skin tone. He
was robust. He was wearing dark blue jeans and hooded upper. He said that he deals
with the sale and service of computers. I asked him directly in a weary tone, “Does
he remember any incident related to conflict?” He said, “Many.”
I got my spiral note-book and Pen
passionately as if I was induced with some steroid. He narrated a personal
episode.
‘I would go to my friend’s house to
relish some puffs of cancer. Their cowshed used to be a safe place for whipping
cigarettes.’ He said it jokily, smoking a king-size Gold Flake cigarette.
He said, ‘It was early January in
2000 or late December 1999, when one of the fierce encounters, between the
armed insurgents of Kashmir and Indian troops, stroke Wathoora in district
Budgam. I was going to Mushtaq’s house for smoking cigarettes as usual. We
spent the time together in the cowshed that day till noon. Mushtaq and I went
back to his home for having food. When we entered into the house, we saw an
armed man entering after us. He was a Kashmiri rebel. He asked for other exit.
Mushtaq showed him the way through kitchen veranda. When he left we peeped
through the window. We saw the Indian military forces were some 200 yards away.
They were speedy in their moves. It took them no time to enter into the house.
They yelled and started banging everything inside the house and left after some
time. And after few turns of second hand of the clock, we heard a shot fired.
We went upstairs eagerly to see the scene. It was appalling for us. I had never
seen death of a person so close to my eyes. It was agonizing.
‘Few hours later we heard that the
area had been cordoned by the army. The army had reliable information about the
presence of few foreign and Kashmiri armed insurgents. It was 5 pm I remember;
when around 30 civilians- mostly old men and children, were taken by the army
out of their houses. Mushtaq and I were among them. We (30 civilians) were grouped
then for their respective sets of forces. I and Mushtaq were put in different groups.
Meanwhile, the others assemblage of troops had cordoned the whole village. It
was a big village comprising of more than 300 houses. We were made a brilliant
shield by army men. They would break into the houses bringing us in front.
They used to tell us to recite something from the Qur’an or some Kalimah. They were sure that the insurgents
would not kill us. And through our help they would come to know about the
insurgent’s whereabouts to confront them easily.
‘After a while, I and an old man of
that village were directed inside the house by army to search for the rebels.
In one of the room, we saw a stout man with long beard reciting Holy Quran. I
stammered to him that army had sent us to disclose their location. Even today,
I can recollect that smile on brave man’s face. I can undoubtedly tell you that
no one except those who love and fear their lord, have clean consciences have
that charm. Meanwhile, I heard the old man sobbing. The beard man told him
robustly that he should not fear death, ‘for death is not to be feared but to
be accepted with a smile.’ He then told us to reveal the truth to the army men
about him, for if we would not do it, they would even slaughter us. We did the
same. He managed to escape from the house, but he was chased and killed
‘For next two days, we would only
hear the sporadic gunshots, mine blasts and dreadful laments of women. My
family informed me later that the troops provided media with incorrect
information. As per the troops twelve houses were gutted instead of 94 and few
cowsheds out of twenty.
‘Among my group mates, I was much
close to captain Kathoj (from Punjab). He used to manage all our
essentialities. He would tell our group that the act of armed insurgents was
not courageous rather filled with cowardice, for when they have had insurgency
in Punjab, the rebels used to send letters to forces to battle in the open
grounds or fields, and not making common people shelter for them. I couldn’t ask
him that time who is actually making us a shield?
‘The forth day of siege became terrible.
Two young girls were shot dead when they went outside for the call of nature.
Later it was reflected in media as a cross firing incident. When Siege was
lifted on the forth day, I went to my home- a kilometer away from the scene. I
remember I was caressed by family and the people of my village.’
Muhammad Arif was waiting for a
person from J&K bank, whom he had to handover an Income Tax Report.
