Sail Along And Have Faith

- BY PRIYANKA

Oh my God! It seems the co-owner of this blog and my little friend (5 feet and 5 inches) is racing ahead of me in posting on this blog. I am afraid that if I do not write my next post soon, there will be a mutiny and I will be dethroned from the ownership of this blog and perhaps, rightly so! Having said that, my friend Neha is worth a million. Thank you for keeping the blog updated and running. 

Life it seems has its own little way of testing your patience. It constantly tests your wits and pushes us to the wildest possible extent, till we either give up or surprisingly discover that we can still stretch even further. Life constantly wants us to discover the new heights of our endurance that lay latent inside us until challenged.

I still remember the difficult times during my early childhood that we, as a family, went through when we had to move out of our shelter in Kashmir overnight to Jammu

and I have been yearning to share this story for a long time. As far as my memory goes, it was peak summer in India, sometime in June or July (the weather in Kashmir at that time is mostly pleasant with little sunshine, mildly warm temperatures, chirping birds, bright green leaves all around) 1990-91, when the civil and military conditions in Kashmir were at their worst.

I happened to be one of the many thousands who were affected by the Indo-Pak Kashmir issue. I do not call myself a victim of the situation because many people in Kashmir went through worse and I cannot thank God enough for keeping my family intact during that entire time.

The memory of the evening is still fresh in my head, when my mom came running into the house from her office and hastily began packing all stuff she could lay her hands on. My two aunts and grandma also started helping her out. Yes, we were a joint family then. There were no males in our family on that day except my 8-year old brother (who is a couple of years older than me). We had another little cousin of ours in the family who is about four years younger to me. The male members of our family had advanced to Jammu a couple of days earlier to find a suitable accommodation for all of us to later migrate to. However, as fate would have it, life had different plans for us.

On the evening of that dreadful day (a day that has had a big role in shaping a larger part of my personality: independent, strong headed and compassionate), I asked mom, “Where are we going?” While I do not clearly remember her response, I understood that we were leaving our only home and heading to a strange new land (Jammu) where my father, two uncles and grandfather had already proceeded in anticipation of the approaching danger. That’s all I knew then and needless to mention, I was both sad and apprehensive. I didn’t know what was in store for us next but I trusted my mother. I felt weak and powerless thinking that we were running away from our home and not fighting for it. Yeah I know it’s difficult to believe, but six-year olds can assess situations and crisis better than we adults can anticipate. Kids have high intuitive thinking caliber and they sense when things are not quite right.

Three other neighboring families were moving with us. In total, around 18-20 odd people were migrating that evening. A truck was hired and only limited stuff could be loaded on to it. We wanted to move in a herd as it felt safer. What we did not foresee that day was that in no time our dwellings would be totally devastated and we shall never return to live in the Valley - the paradise on earth as people call it (it’s still beautiful from what I hear, though I have never had the opportunity to visit Kashmir again after that night).

We loaded clothes and bare minimum essentials like utensils, Dad’s scooter (an LML Vespa, quite popular in those times), some cash, etc. and left for the nomadic life along with three other Hindu families. There were no mobile phones in those days. We were lucky though, to have a landline contact number of someone known in Jammu through which we contacted my father in order to inform him of the journey we had embarked upon already - the journey they never anticipated we would be forced to take up while they were away.

We were packed like a herd of sheep in the back of the truck along with other people and lots of luggage. The journey was long, around 12-13 hours by road to Jammu. Thanks to our Muslim neighbors who had given us a heads-up about us being the next targets of shoot out in that part of Kashmir on the following day. Evidently, our only chance was to flee Kashmir that very day.

Our truck, after plying for about 4-5 hours, was stopped in the middle of the road. Incidents like stopping vehicles in the middle of the road during those times and resultant mass murders were not unheard of in those days. The women were whispering, “Is it the militants? Is this going to be the end of us? Are they going to shoot us the way they shot xyz on xyz date?” I could smell fear in the air.

I can’t explain how my mind evaluated the situation at that point and whatever I am writing next happened in a fraction of second in my head.  I thought - in case these were militants, I will step out and challenge them with abusive words. When I have all their attention on me, I will signal the driver to drive away. I did not worry even once of the entire trauma I would be put through - may be bullets, rape and/or death but my head was already swelled with pride and satisfaction of having saved my family and neighbors (remember this was all happening only in my head). I had a rush of emotions - fear of losing my family; never being able to meet my Dad again; terror of witnessing the death of my loved ones, the possibility of me and other women being raped & killed, men being throttled and what not.

Thank God for it was only the Indian army that had stopped our vehicle for routine checking and none of my fears came true. But something changed within me that day and had a surprisingly positive impact on my thinking.

Thereafter, I never feared any situation ever again. For better or for worse, I would always take the bull by the horns. When we shifted to Jammu and started attending school there, we realized there were local gangs operating and the mafia was prevalent. The general environment was not conducive for females stepping out in the open. Serious eve-teasing was the order of the day.

I was told specifically not to react to any such incidents but I always did. I either beat up the eve teasers myself or handed them over to the local police. I decided on that day of migration, “I will never give up or give in”. I had to fight my battles on a daily basis there. However, each one only made me stronger and I have always thanked God for giving me the strength to manage a myriad such situations at a small age and yet live with dignity. When I look back at those incidents, I do not repent any of my decisions, not that I was right always but I stood by what I believed and had the right intentions for taking all those decisions.

When life puts us in challenging situations, it’s because it has faith in us. We must not give up on our share of faith in life and keep sailing along. Life does not intend to defeat us but to make us better winners.