Football, uniting Kashmiris overseas

Below is an article submitted by me for certain social media channels for spreading awareness about the KFL league taking place in Dubai.

UAE over the past few years has become an overseas destination of choice for Kashmiris pursuing their livelihoods outside the subcontinent and Kashmiri expat community in Dubai has seen an exponential growth in the past decade owing to the numerous success stories of Kashmiri entrepreneurs and business executives in Middle East.

The usual work life in UAE can be quite exhausting with long working hours, congested commute routes and harsh climate. Last year a bunch of Kashmiris decided to get together every weekend and spend at least one hour sweating it out over a friendly match of football. They started with a cheerful group of six and met every Friday after sunset to burn few calories and play the game that they all loved. As the word spread, so did the numbers and new players kept joining in every week; some old and some young but all with a similar passion for the sport.

The number of players kept swelling and organizing matches became increasingly difficult till it caught the attention of some successful businesses in Dubai, namely, DRE Homes, Stone House Real Estate, Location Real Estate, and Ottomans International Technologies who decided to invest in an idea of a well organized football league for Kashmiris living in UAE which was finally realized on April  22, 2016 when the first season of Kashmir Football League kicked off with more than 50 players and four equally balanced teams: Wular Warriors, Jhelum Rangers,  Aharbal Dragons and Gulmarg Leopards.

The league has created a pleasant atmosphere of unity and brotherhood amongst the Kashmiri community across UAE with young and old playing together with passion and competing fiercely for their teams’ victory.  The league has gained tremendous popularity across social media and other channels of communication for the expats in UAE, many participants say that this league is the best two hours of their weekend and they eagerly wait for the weekend not because it is a holiday but because they get to put on their Football studs and be the hero on the pitch while their families endearingly cheer them on from the stands.

There is a unique mix of players across different teams with diverse backgrounds and various age groups. The veterans in their mid 40’s show tremendous leadership by commanding the young & energetic 20 years old boys into various formations and strategies. The athleticism and sportsmanship on display has received massive appreciation from the community and it has become one more reason to feel a sense of pride in collectively being referred to as Kashmiris. Football in Kashmir has definitely come a long way since Tyndale Biscoe introduced the first leather football in early years of 20^th century to the current generation which has taken it overseas. The league is blessed with some serious talent too; there are current college team players from different colleges of Dubai, ex-national level players who have played in India and multiple university level players with varying level of accomplishments in football.

The games are played at high tempo and the skills on display are exquisite, however, the most remarkable moments are witnessed after the games as the teams get together and sit across a single table for a post match meal. These are some serious men with serious jobs, sitting besides each other, some rejoicing their goals and celebrating their victories while others contemplating their missed chances and regretting their loss. In the midst of all the enthusiasm and loud discussions of a typical Kashmiri gathering discussing about the beautiful game in their own beautiful language, they forget about their grown up lives and for once they are a bunch of cheerful lads sharing a well earned meal with each other and more importantly sharing an unbreakable bond of being connected back to their roots.

The league is in the middle of its’ first season and with backing of sponsors such as DRE Homes, Stonehouse Real Estate, Location Real Estate and Ottoman International Technologies it is set to become one of the largest overseas sporting event for Kashmiris living in lands far away from home.

For further updates, please follow the Kashmir Football League on their official Facebook page:

https://m.facebook.com/kasheerfcuae/

END OF DAYS, IT’S JUST THE BEGINNING!

A weekday is a weekday, and a weekend is a weekend. Monday comes after Sunday and Friday after Thursday. Sunday is not every day and weekend is not every weekday, night is meant for sleeping and day for working. Sunrise is when a day begins and sunset when it ends. Breakfast is in morning and dinner every evening. 

Dear Lord, what has the world come to…These must be the end of days!

Looking at himself in the mirror, wearing a well ironed grey shirt and a black trouser with a black tie in his hand, he wonders. He wonders how long it has been since he tied a tie, since he polished a shoe, since he ironed a shirt, since he double checked his wallet, since he kept alarms on his clocks. It has been so long since he had a daily routine, a schedule…a purpose to his life other than enjoying every single day as if it were his last.

He used to live in an illusion of freedom and a perfect universe of unending happiness and joy. The freedom to do whatever he wishes whenever he wishes without any limits or restrictions. Any out of the world idea was reasonable and anything unreal was possible. A limitless world that submitted as he desired. A world without laws and restrictions, where he might have even challenged the laws of Physics itself. He lived in a carefree world of hypothetical realities where he could be the God himself creating his own rules as he went through each semester of college.

Staring deep into the mirror, he still has the tie in his hand. He hasn’t tied a tie since he left school some years ago, his cell phone starts ringing and he is late for his job interview. He looks up once more in the mirror and it hits him, a sudden realization that the time has come. The time to leave his nest and come crashing down to the real world of harsh realities. His happy carefree face frowns for the first time as he looks up one last time to see a fading smile.

Face in the mirror, is he a boy or a man?

By the time he processes his thoughts and gets time to bid goodbye to the life he lived in college, it’s already too late for his first job interview at a major company. His life is now no longer his, it’s controlled by expectations. Expectations of his parents to earn his livelihood, expectations of his colleagues to work extra time to prove his worth, expectations of his teachers at college to achieve success, expectations of his own ambitions to reach for the top. He is no longer a master of his universe, now the universe controls him and dictates what he can or cannot do. The responsibilities keep piling on his young shoulders as he keeps crashing down into the real world and sees his nest disappearing from his eyes far into the clouds.

Unsure of how he will fulfill all the expectations that life demands from him, he wishes to could go back to his safe and happy place where all that was expected from him was to smile and laugh and enjoy all the happiness that life had to offer. By the time he is done crying over what he has left behind, he is already too late to board the next bus. He is no longer sure of himself or what he wants from his life and doubts how he will manage to fill that empty belly of his.

He boasts of his past glories to his juniors at college and yet he is the most insignificant and unaccomplished man at office. He does not know what life has in store for him or what turn his life will take. Not yet prepared to go out there and work for his livelihood, he tries to find solace in hope of someone coming through for him, maybe once again as always a call from his mother to hide him in her arms from the hardships of life. Yet, he knows such hopes are not real and it is time to go out and face the world by himself.

It is all moving too fast, he wishes he could rewind the time and go back to the days when he used to fancy about working somewhere with a white collar shirt and well ironed trouser. Now, all that he fancies is his old denim jeans and animated t-shirts. He loathes every part of his new life which has taken a toll on his carefree youthful spirit and instilled in him a mature and careful adult with responsibilities and weight of expectations on his shoulders. Life is winning this battle against his spirit, he never thought he would be bowing down to rules of life and yet he sees himself becoming a part of this crowd as each day passes.

He has become what he feared the most, another face in the crowd. The challenge is to distinguish himself and live up to expectations, life has just begun yet when he thought it had ended looking back at his nest disappearing into clouds far far away…

…

…

…

He opens his eyes realizing he overslept on his first day at college. Thinking about the strange dream, he decides to skip the morning lectures and tell his friends how precious these four years will be.

From Gaza to Switzerland

Every year I wait for the best time of the year that is when the sun is baking the deserts of Middle East and concrete Jungles of Dubai, expats like me are busy booking their tickets and buying gifts for their loved ones preparing to go back to their home countries for a much awaited summer vacation. While students in my college are busy planning their trips to Europe and America, I count down the days till I reach home because for a fact I know the lure of ancient and romantic cities of Europe and the scenic Swiss Alps are not much of an attraction when u have been brought up in the valley of Kashmir.

The promise of a peaceful summer vacations at my home is what keeps me going through all the ups and downs and challenges of our otherwise easy college life. The promise of a perfect summer in the midst of snow capped Himalayas, the gushing waters of Aharbal, the glaciers of Sonamarg, the lush meadows of Gulmarg, the dense forests of Pahalgam, the sunset on Boulevard, and the infinitely many other equally beautiful places still to be explored.

Unfortunately for last three seasons, all the plans just remained a piece of writing on a white sheet of paper. Three consecutive summers of unrest and turmoil, it was as if Kashmir was on the verge of a breaking point either an unlikely revolution or a terrible civil war. And I didn’t know which side to be on, whether to think of the uprising as an ‘instigated’ violence by some vested interests against the system or whether to think of it as a genuine call for freedom against a foreign rule which has killed more than 100,000 innocent lives of our own. I didn’t know how to react, whether to be angry at my people for ruining otherwise a perfect tourist season and with it the livelihood of many locals or to stand tall shoulder to shoulder with my people and participate in this fight against injustice and oppression. In the end, inherited selfish human nature won over me and I preferred to stay inside the safety of my home cursing the people for ruining my hard earned summer vacations and did nothing while hundreds more sacrificed their lives for a just cause which may seem impossible and futile to a keen observer.

This year like the previous years we waited for the summer with same impatience and excitement although a fear of one more ruined vacation seemed to take hold of my sub conscience every now and then but I always pushed away the thoughts by planning trips hoping for perfect holidays at home. And then the time came for all of us to pack our bags and leave for our homes. As usual most of my friends flew to various parts of Europe while I boarded the same Air India flight which would take me to my beloved home, Kashmir.

To my surprise I was one of the only 4 or 5 Kashmiris waiting in the queue to board the flight whom I could recognize easily due to very peculiar characteristic traits and sharp facial features inherited in our race! Rest were from different parts of not just India but whole world as it seemed. It was clear from the excitement on their faces that they were tourists on a trip of their lifetime. I could recognize hearing German, French, Russian and even Persian being spoken by people sitting behind me and I myself sat with a bunch of Indian tourists. I didn’t know what to expect when my flight landed at Srinagar International Airport because if it was anything close to last three years than it would be a long journey home. I remember travelling from airport to home last year under immense protection as if a VIP travelling in the war zones of Gaza, Palestine.

But to add to my surprise there were no hartals or curfews, no calls, no demonstrations, no protests, no burning of tires or shouting of slogans, not even any pelting of stones. Every single native seemed to be occupied with some work of their own and the youth busy with their colleges and schools while a crowd of tourists happily passed by them. The smiling faces of foreigners clearly explained the excitement and pleasure they felt in just being here as if a chance of a lifetime. Maybe they had waited so long to see this land in all its glory for it had been famously described as being the heaven on earth. I could easily imagine them exclaiming in their minds…’’Heaven!’’

Elders of my family often used to tell me about the glory days of Kashmir before the violence broke out. How alongside the crystal clear waters of Dal and Nigeen, Boulevard would be crowded with the foreign crowds. When all you could see were people equally as fair as local Kashmiris but with various shades of hair color. They used to tell me of the days when everywhere your head turned you would recognize Bollywood stars posing for their shots and yet it was treated as just being a very ordinary event. They used to tell me of the days when people with blonde and red hair used to come from the various parts of the world just for a breathtaking sunset on Dal Lake, or for the exciting skiing on the slopes of Gulmarg, or for the challenging treks of Mahadev, Haramukh and Kolohoi, or for a taste of Wazwan and Kehwa,or to buy themselves the treasured handicraft furniture and rugs or simply just to stay here and enjoy the hospitable and warm nature of a typically cultured Kashmiri family as if this was the closest thing to heaven in this world.

All I could see today was something which reminded me of the same days of the old that my elders used to tell me of. Tourists from all parts of the world had lined up boulevard, the hotels were fully booked, shikaras loaded with tourists floated on the sparkling waters of Dal, Houseboats were getting some of their dedicated foreign tourists back after a break of two generations. And in the midst of all this I happened to meet a group of French, Swiss and Austrian tourists who after a brief conversation stated that even though their country is very beautiful and the Alps are glorious but it is nowhere near to what they had seen in the past 2 weeks in Kashmir. I even met some young tourists from Southern India who were otherwise very rigid vegetarians but couldn’t resist tasting the famous Wazwan of Kashmir!

I have never seen such perfect summers in Kashmir since the year of my birth which happens to be the most unfortunate year in the history of this land. Although it might be nothing new to elders to see the tourists crowding the valley as if Kashmir was the centre of world tourism but for people of my generation this might be a very rare sight. Comparing the current tourist season with any of the 80s or 70s the elders might shoot down the current season as just a rare and very small scaled glimpse of old but for people my age it is the best we have seen in past 20 years.

Seeing the vast contrasts of two summers separated by just 12 months is remarkable. It was as if just a year ago I had left my home in a war like situation where the people had stood up in unison against a power much greater, as if I had spent my last summer’s in a safe house in the heavily disturbed Gaza of Palestine and yet just one year later I come here as if coming to the serene and peaceful Switzerland of the East.

One just can’t resist but give in to the temptation of imagining what a peaceful Kashmir would look like. A booming economy, the tourist centre of the world, prosperity and peace to its people and once again a cultural and religious hub of the whole region in large. Once again a land of mystics and Sufis, untouched valleys and unseen treasures of nature. Even a possible centre of world adventure sports. Unmatched potential for progress and prosperity co existing with our old age customs and traditions of brotherhood and hospitality. A coexistence of the prosperous and modern new with our very unique old. Ahh… How I wish!

What an unfortunate generation I belong to, I never got to see the Kashmir I imagine in my dreams, which was a reality my elders lived. Dream it truly is and coming back to the actual current reality of today where an entire generation has been led aimlessly by leaders who themselves have failed to recognize an actual aim for struggle, a realistic goal. A rational mind tends to think that accepting our destiny and fate lies with the might of our foreign ruler may be the best option for a fact that no blood would be shed, no innocent lives would be lost and tourism based economy will once again boom. But for a passionate lover of his land it is very hard to accept a personal life of prosperity and peace when his land is still not free and the sacrifices of his brothers have been forgotten.

Personally, I still can’t decide what the future of my land should be. Peace and prosperity of my valley at the cost of true freedom or freedom at the cost of our economy and more importantly many more innocent lives. This is a question that can’t be asked because it can’t be answered. The answer can’t be asked from our leader or our ideal, it lies deep within our own patriotic souls. All we need to do is look deep into ourselves with a patriotic and yet very rational mind and see for ourselves what truly is the best for our mother land. I believe, God will answer.

For the time being I enjoy the very brief period of peace and prosperity that this summer is and take as many digital pictures as possible for my college so that when my Europe return friends meet me, they all will exclaim in unison…”Switzerland wasn’t this beautiful !”

Starry Night

It is early August and the beautiful summer season is into its maturity with flowers blossoming in my garden. Tonight the sky is clearer than usual and exposing all shinning wonders hidden beyond imagination. The stars appear brighter than they usually are; something is different about this night. Maybe they have assembled to bear witness to how paradise will burn into ashes.

Turning the head other way, and there they are moving in the sky as if being summoned by God himself. A cluster of shooting stars moving across the dark sky and slowly fading away behind the mighty mountains which limit my vision. I keep searching for the horizon and the shooting star but the farthest I see are the peaks of the snow clad Himalayas.

I hear voices echoing in the valley, this is nothing like I have heard before. An entire population singing in unison; singing as if charmed by the Pied Piper himself. They sing of their brotherhood, they sing of their patriotism, they sing of their nation, they sing of their freedom, they sing of their sacrifice, they sing of their martyrdom, they sing of their valley.

Decades of anger and frustration, an entire generation of oppressed and tortured unfortunates on the streets. A generation of my peers, a generation I have grown up with. A generation which has seen their fathers murdered, their brothers tortured, their sisters raped, their mothers widowed. An entire generation of youth which has grown up in fear of the men in camouflaged army uniforms. ‘

They gave up guns and bullets for a promise of better future, a future where they saw their freedom and prosperity. A promised ‘azaadi’. Twenty years later and the promises still remain unfulfilled. They have had enough of their leaders and their so called country. The limit has been reached and breached; they will no longer remain mute spectators to oppression. The fear of death is no longer a fear, they accept death as if martyrdom. Children, men and women all hand in hand, an entire population of ordinary unarmed Kashmiris protesting on streets for their freedom, fighting for their basic human rights, for their right to democracy and self determination of their nationality.

The bullets fail to deter their march past Indian paramilitary camp after camp, one falls and three more take his place and this time only with louder slogans and harsher tone. Young blood gushes through the gutters and smoke fills up the air. The frightening memories of losing their beloved to the men in uniform still haunts them, maybe this is what has made their hearts so strong that even the bullets don’t seem to stop them. The memories which never seem to die, reminders of their sacrifices. They ask of the 90,000 brothers which they lost to Indian forces, the 7000 brothers that disappeared in Indian custodies, the 100,000 children that have been orphaned, the 22,000 women that have been widowed, the 10,000 women that have been raped. They ask of their childhood which was spent hiding in the closet and now their youth which is lost in pelting stones at an enemy which was supposed to be a friend.

This is an entire generation which has been misunderstood by the rest of the patriotic India, which sees stone pelting as riots and mobs while ignoring and overlooking the basic causes of this anger and frustration.

Suddenly a massive explosion wakes me up from this procrastination and deafening screams of my brothers being murdered are heard from all directions; and yet the mountains refuse to stop the echoing voices in my ear”Sarfarosho Chalo...Cheenke lenge Azaadi Azaadi”

This time I see a shooting star blazing the night sky and I close my eyes and ask God for myself.

As I get ready to go inside and have a nice dinner with my family; tears fill my eyes and I can’t make out if it is the tear gas explosion which is making me cry or my inner conscience which asks of me what I have done for my valley.

In Gods lap

“If you want to find God, find him in yourself...
And if you still can’t...then head for the mountains...!”

The magnificent Himalayas surrounding the Kashmir valley protect it like a great wall against the mythical dragons and evil spirits...the mountain range provides the valley with breathtaking natural beauty and its own patches of paradise on earth...It also provides mountaineers with great opportunities to conquer the mightiest mountains and the toughest peaks ever known....
The famous Sufi saints of the valley drew their inspiration from the mountains...The mountains form a part of the famous legends and myths and an integral part of the mystical world...
It was during my famous and rigorous Biscoe school camps that I got curious to know why some people give up all their worldly wealth and come to mountains, leaving behind their ‘few’ friends, families and desperate enemies...giving up all the earthly pleasures and luxuries and all the glory just for the sake of sitting on a mountain peak and gazing at the sky...!
It all seemed so inappropriate and crazy for such successful people to give away their fortune and take up the life of a homeless wanderer with nothing to lose...Maybe they were possessed by the demons or maybe they were insane...Whatever it was, it never made any sense...
The good old Biscoe days when we were made to scale the traditional tough terrains with heavy haversacks on our adolescent backs and wood for camp fire in our soft hands...

Even long before we hit puberty, we were already scaling the mighty Himalayas aimlessly in search of something we knew not....!
And that something was something we were never aware of...All the while I used to wonder the point of punishing our bodies and going beyond limits into unknown terrains and territories...Maybe it was the lure of conquering the mighty mountain and the treasured feeling of standing on the highest peak as if proclaiming our superiority over all other creatures or maybe it was the adrenaline rush of walking the treacherous and most dangerous narrow paths...I believed it was the natural greed of the human nature for glory which kept us going even in the worst situations...
But how wrong could I have been...!!!
Having passed all the physical endurance tests and conquered all the mountains...Still the same question haunted the adolescent mind...
The question which had no answer...Some gave up and moved ahead into a world of unsatisfied accomplishments where they would always find something missing from their lives, an internal peace and satisfaction which would haunt them for the rest of their mortal life...
But some persevered and resisted until they lost their sense of existence in search of the answer...

Some say the mountains are haunted by the Jinn’s and the wandering spirits and some say by the walking snowman called ‘Yetis’...and sometimes such unbelievable myths come to life when you gaze on the giant footsteps in the snow or an exorcism being performed on a mountain side...
Sometimes what you see is hard to believe...and sometimes such truths shake your soul inside out awakening it to an unbelievable reality...!
Many monks climb the steep slopes in search of the eternal Shangri-la and many Sadhus wander in hope of finding the mighty Shiva in the mountains...
The tough treks up the steep mountain slopes and the uphill battle against the elements... Maybe I used to interpret such voluntary self torture as the human nature of ambition and greed for power...But the truths hidden in the mountains never lie and they speak of the divine...

The gigantic mountains are a source of mystical experiences...Breath taking sunset and sunrise, the lush green forests, the treacherous steep slopes, spine chilling piercing winds...the melting glaciers and the fresh snow...the huge rocks surrounded by wild flowers...the gushing white waters...sparkling fresh morning dew...the unending long days and the starry nights...the uncertainty of time...the calm of the valley...everything a mortal could ask for...and yet the same old greed of wanting more...the desire to fulfil all the unsatisfied emotions, an ambition to go to the top...a struggle for an internal satisfaction and peace...a fight for power and desires...a fight for the title of strongest and most powerful
When the mountain finally beats you down to earth...tired and beaten...ashamed of the unsuccessful efforts...defeated and broken, having lost to the mother nature...then for the first time in your life you start looking around yourself, admiring all the gifts that nature has bestowed on us...contemplating and reflecting on how the water always manages to break through such massive rocks and make its way forward...how the weakest of creatures manages to survive in the most hostile environment...how each and every creation is unique and wonderful as if designed by God himself...humbled by the experience, you watch the tall mountain in awe and wonder...

And finally a DIVINE intervention....!
The spirit is awakened...a divine satisfaction and peace blesses the soul...
A soul which suddenly wakes up after years of slender and wakes to the voice of nature...The Gods nature....you give up and let yourself be defeated and feel like having achieved all that was to achieve...you no longer want to win...
It’s the feeling when you realise how small is your existence...how powerless are your most powerful attributes...a true realisation, as if you have conquered death itself
this feeling of being mortal and weak makes you lie back and enjoy the painful moment of your defeat...the moment when you look up at the sky, close your eyes with the last bit of strength left in your body...you see yourself elevate to a land unknown to this world...a land of the pure and divine...a land of freedom from desire and ambition...a land of fulfilled promises and wishes...a land of peace and satisfaction....a land of perfection and blessings...a land of joy and justice
Sitting on the peak of the mountain and looking at the world with a changed perspective, praising the God who created you from dust...
All the achievements and all the wealth are of no value any longer...All the ambitions and desires disappear into thin air...Finally you have found the answer, an answer to all your questions... you bow down and gaze with utter humility at your own humble soul...
Opening your eyes, you find yourself lying back in Gods own lap...
The mountain is no longer a question of intimidation...it’s no longer a challenge...you move on with respect for each and every step that the mountain allows you to take on its back...the soul has finally awakened to the reality of this world and the world after...
God always gives you traces of his existence...it’s we who need to open our eyes, awaken our humble spirit and start admiring God in everything that has been created...it maybe the mighty mountains or the vast plains or even a simple rock lying by a river...God flows through all his creations
A divine realisation of our mere existence and a divine creator of all...a humbling experience...an eternal peace and satisfaction found in the magical mountains and mystical valleys where you find yourself lying in Gods own lap...
Your own Shangri-la, an answer to all the questions...

Kashmir on the verge of people's revolution(Part-II)

Thursday was followed by a historic Friday when the world witnessed the true rise of a giant…An awakening, a united resistance…A people’s revolution
"Eidgah Chalo" call by the separatist Hurriyat Conference was met by a tremendous and unprecedented public response…A massive crowd of well over a million ordinary suffering Kashmiri’s marched towards the historic Eidgah grounds and gathered for pro-freedom slogans and even more attended the Friday prayers calling for a revolution…
The over whelming numbers in itself is a history in the making…the whole valley had united for a common cause…the most fascinating thing about the protests in Kashmir is that unlike Jammu, all the religious parties stood shoulder to shoulder…non-muslims and muslims alike for one cause…The suffering fruit growers unable to trade with the markets in rest of the country due to highway blockade, showered the sea of people with apples as if it was raining apples for the protestors…the martyrs were remembered and their suffering families got the deserving respect…such a tremendous sense of kashmiri nationalism as never seen before
Amazingly the whole sea of people went unnoticed in the national (Indian) media which never highlighted the fact that over one million ‘PEACEFULL’ protestors shouted for freedom and independence…
All the Indian media managed to report was that a bunch of people led by separatists carrying anti national green flags carried a rally to Eidgah grounds...!!!
Wake up people…this is no longer a separatist led movement…they are mere spectators…It’s a people’s movement…
The most important fact being that the pro-Pakistan slogans were replaced by pro-independence or rather pro-freedom slogans…Literally every Kashmiri including the very old woman and the very young children were shouting for freedom….!!!
This truly can be put as a beginning of a revolution when Kashmiri people have decided to put an end to this life of misery and grief, a life of despair and disparity, a life of struggle for the very basic human rights to survive…This is the time to undo the curse of the ‘cursed heaven’…never before in our history, not even in 1990 such a movement was witnessed which was entirely a peoples movement…this time the leaders are mere spectators and have been led by the people and the people unlike the early 1990’s are un armed and using non-violent ways to protest…the slogans for Pakistan have given way to slogans for freedom…this is entirely a peoples movements…a peoples struggle…
The martyrs of this land have sacrificed their souls for a generation of intellectual protestors who have decided to follow the non-violent resistance like the great Mahatma Gandhi…
The optimism in the eyes of the common people is quite easily visible but it’s rather hard to believe that we can ever be independent…though the people sense a revolution coming, but it’s rather difficult to even think of independence when we actually are so dependent…!!!!!
The spirit and the will of people isn’t ready to realize the fact that India is not just any ordinary country but a prosperous and flourishing nation with a very strong military…
The Indian military hasn’t yet retaliated to the pro-freedom slogans…It’s just a matter of time before the armed forces decide to end this aimless show or the so called mass movement….and when that day comes, we won’t have any place to hide or run to…we won’t be able to resist the brute force and the piercing bullets that will shatter our homes and our dreams too…we will bleed and we will suffer…we will die in pain and anguish over the fact that we never got what we deserved and what was rightly ours…once the men in uniforms and the men in arms come searching for us, we won’t have a place to hide….the freedom which has been stolen from us will never be ours….
BUT…world has witnessed the most amazing turnover’s in its history…so many times have we seen the impossible and unbelievable happen…take the example of India which over turned the imperial British Empire to win it’s freedom or the great revolutions of Europe and America…
The people hold the ultimate power to rule and to ruin any kingdom…it’s the people who hold the supreme strength…
In recent days we have seen many intellectual Indians such as the Bookers Prize winner Arundhati Roy supporting the Kashmir cause…many other intellectuals in India have questioned the Indian democracy for suppressing the will of Kashmiri people when the people are struggling for basic survival leave aside freedom….Why can’t the people push towards the United Nations solution to the whole dispute…A justified PLEBISCITE….??? Doesn’t that sound fair enough???...and even if it ever happens we all know that most of the kashmiris from Azad Kashmir (Pakistan Occupied Kashmir) will vote against Pakistan and most of kashmiris from Indian Occupied Kashmir will vote against India…That will mean an independent Kashmir…!
Although it sounds great on paper but the fact remains that independent Kashmir is an impossible existence….!!!
In the midst of all the politics and all the drama, we the common Kashmiris suffer every day and every night…We are the children of despair and grief….WE ARE A CURSED BUNCH OF PEOPLE LIVING IN THE CURSED PARADISE….!!!
I guess the media can no longer hide the fact that this is no longer a protest over the Amarnath Land Row or any fight with communal forces in India…but this is much more of a mass awakening to the much bigger Kashmir issue… The massive public movement for freedom and the peaceful unarmed protestors (ready to stand up against the strongest and the most brutal enemy for freedom) makes an intellectual think that a revolution is a genuine possibility…we got all what it takes to begin a revolution…now all we need is an unselfish leader who will guide through the right track to a land of peace and salvation…..and that’s what I think this revolution lacks….a great leader fighting for the sake of kashmir…
What so ever happens in the coming days..one thing is for sure…blood will be shed…it might be a bloody revolution which will either manage to give us our freedom and basic human rights or it will be a mass murder brutality which will give a life even more miserable than the one we already have….
Personally, I wish we continue to be a part of the prospering BRIC countries (Brasil,Russia,India,China) and I wish the future of my fellow peers would not be lost in this so called revolution which seems to be fighting a lost battle….Moreover the innocent youth is protesting as if celebrating an event or as if on the verge of victory…but least they know that the way ahead is the most difficult and hardest with unseen dangers and unthinkable risks that may ruin their future or even take away their precious lives…!
I am leaving for college in Middle East and I have no idea that by the time I come back what history would have written for my people…Freedom is all what we seek….!!!
Monday has been declared the day for carrying a pro-freedom rally to Lal Chowk (Lal Chowk Chalo)…I guess we will see even more people attend the peaceful agitation and cry for freedom…Expect to see Ghanta Ghar (clock tower in the middle of Lal Chowk) covered with green flags…
I don’t know if I ever will be able to blog again or not…I don’t know what fate holds for me…I don’t know what turn history will take at this important time for both me and my valley….!!
Well, I better start packing my stuff for college before it’s too late….It’s quite an exhausting job when you have to pack your stuff in such chaos …I don’t know when will I be able to meet you guys next time, until then good bye and stay well….
And yes, one request to all you folks out there reading this blog...try to uncover the realistic truth behind the superficial truths which the biased Indian media will put in front of your unaware eyes in the coming days….Know both the sides of story before forming any opinion over the Kashmir issue…
If you can then pray for my valley which is crying out for help and a revolution seems not so unlikely possibility…May God bless Kashmir with enough strength to fight through these difficult darks days into the days of freedom and prosperity...
FREEDOM DOESN'T ALWAYS MEAN INDEPENDENCE...!!!

Freedom Blogger...Signing out indefinitely

Kashmir on the verge of a people's revolution (PART-I)

"A sleeping giant waking up to this world of injustice and oppression"

It was Thursday, The last day of the three day deal which Hurriyat conference had announced for giving people a breather before another week of continuous strike and protests….
Sensing the urgency in the eyes of every Kashmiri rushing to markets that this might be the last day when day get a chance to go out and buy themselves a bag of rice before their lives get crippled again with the indefinite strikes and curfews…Even I rushed to the overcrowded and busy Lal Chowk (city centre)….No, not to buy any rice or processed food packs of the Italian pasta or Chinese chowmein but instead to buy my essential stock of groceries and clothing to help me survive in college…
Yea finally I found a college ready to take me in...The current scenario doesn’t allow a Kashmiri to live freely in India (AS IF WE WERE LIVING FREELY IN OUR OWN VALLEY….!!!)
Most of the Kashmiris living or studying in the more greener pastures of India don’t feel secure anymore…Thanks to the communal forces acting in this great nation that forced me to go for college to Middle East (Dubai) rather than our own thriving metros….
The shops seemed so empty and the clothes looked like they belonged to some ancient age….!!! Maybe the highway blockade and the strike kept the newer and trendier stuff from reaching the windows of our cities beloved shops….!!!
Totally frustrated, I decided to come back home empty handed…But just as I was about to go back to the car parking which happened to be quite adjacent to my school (C.M.S. Tyndale Biscoe which sits handsomely at the heart of the city centre), I heard a familiar sound…The ‘ding-dong’ of the famous school bell (which is already a piece of history due to its age and the high pitch sound it creates throughout the otherwise chaotic Lal Chowk streets)
I turned back and remembered that I was standing right next to the glorious and historic school gate…All the memories of the nostalgic childhood flashed across my eyes and I stood there as if a spectator witnessing his wonderful childhood pass by him…and then this moment of wonder was broken when a sharp voice thumped my ear…"Hum Kya Chahte???……Azaadi,Azadi…Azadi" (What do we want?....Freedom, Freedom…Freedom)
It was a huge crowd of young students in their school uniform (in fact the students of historic S.P. College) protesting the death of their beloved batch mate at the hands of Indian troopers….The students in their school uniforms and handsome ties over their sparkling white shirts with their broken voices portrayed the dismal future of our next generation..Following them were the girls of Womens College with their own slogans for freedom…
I stood by the side of my school as a mute spectator witnessing the historic scenes…Youth bringing a new life and new energy to this struggle against oppression and brutal force…What better way to compliment when a group of bar association (lawyers) dressed in black joined the students in their cry for freedom…
The intellect is finally getting vocal and driving home the point that they are not ready to give up their basic human rights…
Seeing the huge rush and chaos in the crowd, I somehow managed to make my way to home…
The scenes are still quite vivid in my eyes…
And then late in the evening I peeped out of the window in my room on hearing someone shout out from a loud speaker…"Hum kya chahte??"(what do we want?) followed by huge chorus from people "Azadi Azadi Azadi" (freedom freedom freedom)
The huge crowd of ‘ordinary’ people protested throughout the night with the mashals (torches) burning and flames rising high…
I could feel the heat even from a safe distance…! The heat which spoke a lot more than the crowd on the street…The heat which spoke of the fire that had been ignited twenty years ago and now had grown into a full blown resistance…The flames which spoke of the ray of light which the common people had chosen to follow….The smoke which told the untold story of a ‘burning paradise’…It was quite indeed a sign of waking of the giant…
The common ordinary soul has finally waken up to its struggling conscience which isn’t ready to give in to the brutal oppression….A conscience that is ready to fight and struggle for freedom…The conscience of the common ‘people’ which has finally woken up to this world of injustice and cruelty…
To be continued...