Summer vacation had always been my favourite part of the year, just like many other Indian kids! Maa, papa, bhaiya and I made sure we travel a lot and meet other members of our extended family. Visiting our old family home, visiting nana-nani’s place, hanging out with cousins, sleeping until noon and non-stop eating! Even maa and papa did not follow the ‘you have to bath everyday’ rule!

Well, all of this decreased as we grew up. My grandparents perished one by one and everyone else started fighting for the little land and money that they had left behind. Family became foe and cousins became awkward strangers. We four were left with a forsaken vacation thereafter.

We are all grown up now and these memories have started fading. It was 6 years ago that bhaiya got hired by a construction firm in Dubai. About 2 years later, I got a handsome job in Doha as an art instructor. I was allowed to live out of the country only because bhaiya lived nearby. Maa and papa wanted to continue staying in India. Bhaiya always travelled overnight to my place on festivals and holidays even for a day to make sure I don’t get stranded alone on happy days. We celebrated holidays by roaming about the city, shopping for each other and eating junk for dinner.

During his foremost year in Dubai, bhaiya gifted maa and papa a trip to UAE with his first salary during the summer vacation. I joined them too and we had the time of our lives- reliving old memories and enjoying together like we did in India. Since then, it became a tradition. Every summer vacation, we picked a new spot in the Middle East and spent the most happening time of the year together.

This year was different... this year was special. We all planned to stay at my place and tour Doha. I had saved and bought a gold chain each for maa, papa and bhaiya. It was the first time that I was offering them something. I had also planned to introduce the love of my life to them, and ask them if I could marry him. But, things did not happen accordingly.

A few days before the arrival of maa, papa and bhaiya at Doha, I woke up to a shocking news. I could not digest what I saw on the TV. Many neighbouring countries including UAE had broken ties with Qatar. I did not care about the crisis, I did not care about the accusation made, and I did not care about its certainty... it was not the matter of concern for me then. I could only see a failing plan... a failing tradition.

I did not know how to react. I was angry and anxious at the same time. I wanted to run away from here. Papa sounded very scared on the phone and maa was crying. Bhaiya convinced them that the situation is nothing to be worried about. But then, we all were highly disappointed.

I could feel the nostalgia seeping in. Back in the past, relations got abandoned with the family, plans changed, people separated, amity died. I could see everything repeating.  

For whatever reasons it may be, why making a connection and keeping the relation alive has to be so demanding? Why do most relations end up in a brawl? I had lost faith in humanity once again. No connection ever remains forever. Now, all that I could do is wait... and hope. At least, hope remains forever.

My father is a religious person. He believes that mukti yatra cuts down the impurities and cleanses the soul.  He always wanted to do this yatra through which he gets to visit lots of mosques and dargahs. His 60^th birthday was approaching. December is a cold month. So, I decided to take him on this yatra myself. It was supposed to be memorable, and ultimately it was.

I planned a 12-day trip over 3 states of the North, covering 16 of the important religious sites. Abbu’s birthday was right in the middle of the trip- on the 6^th day. We left home with a bag full of anticipation and good hope. The first 5 days went exactly as I planned, but not Abbu’s birthday.

On his birthday, we were to explore the city which had a great importance in the Hindu mythology. We thought of taking the essence of a sister religion and some extra blessings from the Hindu Gods too. There was a 16^th-century mosque that Abbu wished to visit. We reached the place early in the morning. Abbu said he would sleep sometime before going to the mosque in the afternoon. I tried sleeping too but a weird feeling kept me up. I went down for some tea. There was a small stall which served tea, coffee and snacks. There were three people other having tea there. I asked for a cup and sat on the bench.

“Munna ka tabiyat bigad gaya, nahi to hum jarur jaate.” said the slim guy wearing a kurta.

“Abhi bhi time hai, aap ja sakte hain. Program 3-4 baje se pehle khatam nahi hoga.” Said the chai-wala.

“12 baj gaye hain, ab jaane ka mann nahi.” The slim guy replied.

I was keenly listening to what they were saying. I started getting interested upon hearing the word ‘program’.

“Muaf kijiyega, kis program ki baat ho rahi hai?” I asked.

“Aap kahan gum hain, bhai- sahab? Itni badi rally nikli hai aur aapko nahi maalum? Kal ki ghoshna nahi suni aapne?” the other guy in a kurta asked back.

 “Ji, mai aaj hi aya hun. Yatra par hu Abbu ke sath. Masjid jaane ka iraada hai kuch der me.” I clarified.

There was a sudden silence amongst us. The two guys in kurta looked at each other and then looked away. They had finished their tea.

“Chal chotu, hum chalte hain.” the other one said and they both walked away whispering.

“Aaj masjid jana aapke liye theek nahi.” said the chai-wala.

“Kyu, bhai?” I was getting anxious.

“Yeh masjid vivaad me phasa hua hai.”

“Itna to hume pata hai, bhai. Par log to aaj bhi jaate hain na wahan?” I wanted answers.

“Haan, Magar aaj ki rally wahin ho rahi hai, aur aadhikarik raay iss masjid ke khilaaf jate hain. Aakhir hai to yeh sheher ek Hindu dharm sthal.” The chai-wala’s words were making no sense to me.

“Kya isse ye maalum hota hai ye yahan masjid ka hona galat hai?” i asked.

“Hamare kehne ya sochne se kya hota hai? Hai to raaj satta ka.”

“Satta? Kya yahan ki satta sabke liye baraabar nahi?” I was confused.

He jolted his head and looked away. His silence was making me uncomfortable. I wanted to see the rally. I wanted to see the mosque.

“Masjid ka raasta kis taraf hai?”

.......................................................                                                    

Crowd, a disturbed crowd was all I could see in front of my eyes. I kept on walking. I could hear them chanting. Those chants were piercing through my body like little needles. I could sense instability. I could sense insanity. I went closer. I could now hear the bhaashan that the politician was giving.

“Iss bhoomi ko hame samtal banana hoga, baithne layak banana hoga. Taki yahan samoohik kirtan ho sake, bhajan ho sake. Yagya ka aayojan hoga....”

‘What is this man trying to say?’ I thought in my head. The mob kept cheering and chanting.

“Jai Shri Ram! Jai Shri Ram!”

When I went further and got the first sight of the mosque from a distance, I stood there perplexed. It was right in front of my eyes- the wrecking. The domes were being hit, the walls were attacked. It was hard for me to digest what I saw. The main dome fell... then another... Just then I saw something flying towards me and hit me.... I realized I was sitting on the ground, full of dust, when I came back to senses. The mosque was not standing anymore. My neck hurt, but it did not matter to me.  

People had started returning to their homes. I returned too. On the way back to the hotel, I could not stop thinking about what had happened. They said it was essential, as it was an important Hindu site. The political leaders were smiling. The people were dancing in victory, chanting slogans and celebrating their win. Did they actually win? Who won? How can anyone justify the existence of a Hindu site? How does demolition of a religious building define their sanity? The security forces ran away. Further, there was no effort put to stop them. Why? My head was full of questions.

Abbu was awake and really worried when he did not find me in the room. He had already gathered the information about the demolition but my absence was a bigger concern for him then. When I reached, Abbu was watching the news on the TV with widened eyes. He ran to me and held me by my shoulders.

“Khairiyat hai?” he was shaking.

“Han Abbu, mai khairiyat hu, magar ye desh bahut beemar hai.” I replied.

He had tears in his eyes. I was broken. There was nothing that we could do.

“Chal, laut chalen.”  he said, still shaking.

.......................................................

It is February. About two months passed... and riots, commotion and deaths are all that we saw. Every other day we woke up with the death toll rising, new cities being engrossed and more hatred in the air. The fire had struck. Temples, mosques and other random buildings were targeted. We too were invited for a meeting to remove people of the other religion out of our locality. Ordinary people had turned into activists. People were dying. But, what could we do?  

Whenever there is a state of disagreement, why is agitation and anger the first and the last option? Why do people think that destroying a monument of killing the people would solve or pacify an issue? Why does a positive ground, the religion, become the reason for the unending negativity? Why ‘co-existence’ is no more a word with a meaning? But, what could we do?  

I suddenly felt like a culprit. I never thought anything beyond my family’s happiness. Who thinks about the country’s happiness? Who thinks about its integrity? Lots of our countrymen died, about 2000 of them. Are our countrymen, our extended family? If no, then why do we share the same land? If yes, then why are we still silent? 

I decided, I would not sit silent anymore. I will do my part. I will propagate my questions, and I will derive the solutions. I will. 

Dear Son, 

I stood gazing the bullet when entered the campus. Every time that I heard the bullet roar, a smile had conquered my face and that day even the bullet looked me back. My incentive heart popped out as the rider walked by my side & took her seat in the class. My eyes couldn’t stop staring her and that day even she didn’t take her eyes off me.

Love is to live, hate is to war

Love is to live, hate is to war

She pierced his eyes

And left him wounded like a cigar

Even the most pakau shayaris by my friend couldn’t lower our romance. I now knew she wasn’t an ordinary girl. How other stories in our village took place: Boy looked at girl and she blushed, boy stared girl and she complaint her friend, Boy followed girl to her home and she shied. But here! In our story: I looked at her and she asked me why, I sent letters to her and she started playing with me, her brother beat me and she warned him to not touch me. And that day, she stared me all the time in the class, not thinking about what others think, not caring about the professor and breaking all stereotypes that how a girl should be.

As it was not enough to stare me that she came all the way to my home driving her tractor. My stomach giggled as she asked me to meet near the fields, yeah! Indirectly but she did it. And my life changed, yes my 18 year old life changed as she proudly walked into it. 

Love is to live, hate is to war

Love is to live, hate is to war

She has now entered your den

She will set us far   

           

His worst shayaris continued as we came along. And I never realized what was the time that I had actually fall for her.


Parshya

                                                      ___

Dear Son, 

He was such a shy boy, and dumb too. It had been months that I knew he liked me. Thousands of time I hinted him that I too liked him. But! Blame his decency or innocence that I was ready for the leap and he was just walking behind me. Actually it wasn’t his fault, no one else could be as gutsy as me, and even my cousin brother couldn’t stand before me.

The time he gaped at me while I played kho-kho in the ground, the way he looked at me when we crossed ways in the campus. He feared me like others did but then there was a sense of owning when his eyes fell on me. May be I fall for that look. 

Initially it was all a fun game for me; I liked to tease him when he sent letters to me, I liked to bully him in my way. I wanted to meet him more, talk to him and spend my time like that.  

And that happened soon. I was not that person who could hold things for long or wait for the right time to appear. I chose my time and drove to his home.

That was the first day we directly met, talked and looked into each other. Those were the moments when I actually felt myself to be ordinary as I was not able to freeze time. 

If he was the field I wanted to wrap it on me, if he was the pond, I so wanted to jump into it and if he himself was the time I wished to travel the time.

Our days became a routine as we me every day. The fields in our village witnessed our love and our friends became our armor as they cleared the way for us to meet.       

Love is to live, hate is to war

Love is to live, hate is to war

You two are now together

Let us go to the bar

His friend started his weird rhyming. I wished I could teach him English.

 

Never in life did I imagine something like that could happen to us. I blinked my eyes and everything that I had was gone. There was a grand party going on Archi’s home. We were all dancing and having fun when I saw a people fighting and soon we too were dragged in. 

They beat us really bad. parshya, I and Pradeep were badly beaten by Archi's family. They had discovered Parshya nad Archi together. Our little heaven changed into hell.

I tightened the grip over my pheran when a cold gush of wind swayed through me. It was just like another cold winter morning. I was sitting on the curved edge of the lake, thinking about my father. And, I was trying not to.

I slid my leg down towards the water inch by inch. The water surface felt like glass, tight and shiny. Just when I put my whole foot on the icy floor, it cracked open and I lost balance. I frantically grabbed the branch of the tree hanging just beside me. My feet were in water and I couldn't move for a generous amount of time. I was not thinking straight. The sudden thought of drowning in this disturbingly cold water made me jump out of the lake at once.

I was back, sitting. This time, I couldn't feel my feet inside the shoes. I managed to stand after a very long time. Later, I started marching back home with my heavy bag.

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"Did you get the fish?" mother asked.

"No." I replied, pretending to look uninterested.

"What!! I told you!! We are expecting guests if you remember!!" she started shouting.

"Maaaa, calm down. The fish is in the bag." I smiled, warming my legs with the woollen scarf.

"Ohhh, Hahaha! My sweet Lado!" She vanished into the kitchen with the bag in no time.

My cousins were visiting us from Srinagar for the first time. Mother wanted to give them the best hospitality.

"What can I help you with?" I stood up wearing two socks together and went towards the kitchen.

"Chop these." She slid a plate full of veggies towards me. "Have you set the music player up?"

"Ma! What will we do of the music player? Play musical chair?" I was getting irritated.

"Zoon! You are 23 and you still argue like a kid. Be nice to them. Anjana likes you very much. She always asks me to tell you to talk to her.... and Aditya, he is a sweet boy too. Always listens to his elders....” and she was doing it again. Her anxiety was making her chatter. This happened every time when she had a lot of work to do.

We cooked and did the dishes. The temperature started lowering around 2.30 pm. Mother was getting worried because they were to reach before it was 2 pm.

"Maybe we should...." the door knock interrupted her."Finally they are here!"

She ran to open the door.

"Come come!! Soon! It is very cold outside! Get yourself covered. How are you both? How come you are late? Was the road not good? Did th...."

"Ma! Let them answer one-by-one!" I broke her speech.

Anjana and Aditya were covered with woollens. They seemed lost upon the bombardment of my mother's questionnaire.

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It was already late. We did not take time to gulp down the yummy dinner. Soon we were gathered to drink the mandatory kaada, covered in quilts. Ma was somewhere in the bedroom.

“Thank you, aunty! It is warming up the whole body!” said Aditya, loud enough to let Ma hear.

“Yes, it is. And we know aunty is a great cook. The fish was delicious.” Anjana said with the widest smile.

‘They are sweet’ I thought in my mind. “She likes to cook, and this fish is one of the special items.” I was trying to look sweet too.

“It is called the Hokh Gard, isn’t it?” a curious Anjana asked.

“Yes, Anju.” I said. Ma came with scarves for all of us.

“Wasn’t this fish curry Ratan uncle’s favourite too?” Anjana asked.

Aditya glanced up immediately. Ma was staring at Anju, but soon she turned away. And I pretended not to hear her.

“I will go and make the bed for all of us.” I said and walked away.

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Ratan Neka is my father. He was in the transport business, so he had to travel a lot. It was last year’s winter evening, Ma’s friend from the town came to inform her that my father had been attending and visiting another woman. The cold weather and stirring news was sucking all the senses out of her, but she opted to regain strength. She chose to ignore her, believing it was just a rumour.

The next morning, my father was home. Ma did not bother him with any query or even a single doubtful question. It was a cold evening and we finished dinner early. They both covered themselves for a long walk to the lake. It was a mandatory thing that Ma had enforced. I bid them goodbye and settled under the quilts with a nice book. They did this walk after every dinner, whenever we all were together. But this time, only Ma returned back home.

Some say my mother pushed my father into the freezing lake after knowing that he was an infidel. Some say she took her revenge. It was a chilly winter night of doom for us. Eventually, everyone disowned us. Just like Ma did the other day, I chose to ignore what everybody said or did. I never had the courage to ask her what happened that night. Since then, I have feared winters, the season that I once loved. Since then, the thought of drowning in the icy lake make me sick in my spine, as if I have felt it myself. Since then, whenever I pass the lake or sit around it, I try not to think about him, but I fail.

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“Let me light the Kangri again. Can you place the lamp near the outdoor tap?” I asked Ma while she was standing against the wall, lost in her thoughts.

“Ye-yeah.” she abruptly went towards the store room.

After lighting the pots, I went outdoor to check on Ma. I saw her struggling to light the lamp while she was wiping tears off her face. I stood there for a moment, feeling bad for her. There was nothing that I could do.

I ran and hugged her from the back. She couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“I did n-not do it. I did n-not kill your fa-father.” she said, breathing heavily.

I hugged her tighter.

“It was an ac-accident. Th-the soil was slippery...he sl-slipped... he went out of sight in no ti-time.... I stood there staring!! Coward I am....” she broke into huge cries.

“Let it go, Ma. Let it go.” 

I did not know how to handle such situations. I kept hugging her tightly. We both cried. This cry was held back since last winter. It was much needed- letting go.

Anjana and Aditya were listening. They came and hugged us from behind. Nobody was saying a word. We had a moment of unity. This moment of silence cleared everything.