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Kañijung-Kañijung

August 25, 2019 Dull sunny afternoon Kashmir I was barely making it through the 20th day of curfew when a riotous noise in my neighborhood dragged me to the rear window of my room this morning. I saw a cheerful group of 10-12 children, shouting and screaming a plot to each other and I settled myself by the sill and cupped my face in my hands. They were carrying sticks and handkerchiefs in their tiny hands and I could easily comprehend the nature of the upcoming theatrics. After all, what else could the childhood of conflict ridden children look like, even if it unfolds itself in the poetic countryside set up! Freckled, light-haired members of one sub-group held their ‘pellet-guns’, they had beforehand crafted out of aged sun-dried sticks, with a great deal of expertise in their hands and equally freckled and light-haired children of the other sub-group hastily tied their handkerchiefs around their faces. The speed at which all of them prepared themselves was a hint enoug...
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Wise-a

Children of the family, that of immediate as well as extended, called her ‘Phoola’, a common love-name in Kashmiri culture which is typically used for addressing aunts. But, when her niece, my elder sister, started to read and she learnt the meaning of the word ‘Fool’, she no longer wanted anyone to call her aunt by the name. It also didn’t take my sister much time to select a new name. If her aunt could not be a ‘fool’, she could very well be ‘wise’. Thus, ‘Phoola’ became ‘Wise’ and over the years, ‘Wise’   changed to ‘Wise-a’. No one in the family ever got tired of narrating the whole context of the name, whenever a family connection or a complete stranger enquired about it. We still tell the tale but, no one among us can tell it the way she herself would. A woman of enormous wit and sharp skills, Wise-a would always seal this droll story with her thunderous laughter. Our account ends with a lament now.   On the intervening night of November 18 and 19, 2019, Wise-a fell ...
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A Day of Disappointments

It has been long since I last put down my thoughts in black and white. So long that, today, I typed a wrong password on my laptop twice. So long that I had to check the date of my last blog post to figure out how long it has actually been. My! It has been long. This evening while driving back from work to home, I had a school van ahead of me. I have always enjoyed looking at children sitting in the backseat of their school buses\ vans and making monkey faces. Some have even winked at me and I have always winked back. I reciprocate to flying kisses too. Or, let’s say, I am usually the first one to pass a  kiss to an innocent child looking at me selflessly and I have received a lot of love in return. Today, it was different. The van was driving the students of one of the best private schools home and by the look on their faces they must have been in the 10-13 age group. The moment they saw me driving right behind their vehicle, they started to smile. Then, in a fl...
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Dear Zaira

Zaira, my heart goes out to you. Reasons, many. If I could, I would wrap my arms around you and hold you close to my bosom because a warm hug is all a child of your age needs at times like these. I, like many other women, who must have watched the video, can relate to the atrocity you went through. Yes, we all have been through it and may be, many of us, if in the situation, would have dragged the man from one end of the aisle of that Vistara aircraft to another and beaten all the manhood out of him but, that is the courage that comes with age. A child of tender 17 years cannot figure out how to react and tears rolling down your cheeks speak of the hurt you must have felt. Hurt, no one should pass off as weakness. As much as I am aware of the emotional mayhem you must be going through, I am glad you brought the incident to everyone’s notice. I hope the concerned authorities find the details of that monster, which isn’t difficult to do, and take action against him. However, once t...
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An Answer

So, a lot of people have been asking, what is the reason for being critical of the 'warmest place on earth' ad by J and K Tourism? Do I hate it? Here is the answer. No, I don't. It's a beautiful advertisement & everyone associated has worked really hard on it. Moreover our tourism industry badly needed a booster like this. Then? I despise all the oratory around the slogan by quasi- liberals. Apparently, Kashmir is the beloved they can't stop falling in love with! These are not ordinary people. Their voices matter and their voices can make a change. You can see the impact their endorsement has had on the popularity of this ad.  Lamentable as it is, these voices turn soundless whenever the future of their 'beloved' Kashmir is blinded and maimed. No one among them can imagine, what a struggle life is for a half-widow. Even if anyone does, the impression, unsaid and unstated, will freeze to death. They don't make attempts to look into...
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Bitter But True

A woman is mostly in trouble because of another woman. I as a woman may not like the sound of this statement but that doesn't make it an incorrect one. It is true. Most of the taboos that surround us in our society are our own creation and men take full advantage of that. We may hate the patriarchal nature of our world but we can't deny that we helped in building it this way. Boys grow up among the women of their houses who are unfortunately always busy in weaving these taboos in front of them and once a boy turns into a man, he finds it natural to harass a woman and also expects that she will keep quiet. Not all get lucky with the latter part though. Some women fortunately have been brought up by fathers who, while shaping their daughters, made sure none of these taboos touch their skin. However, some do get victimised. The solution is the realisation that change comes from within. Nothing will change for women if women themselves are not ready for the change, if they themsel...
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Let's Pray...

 (29-05-2017) It is a hot May afternoon and the second day of Ramadan. I have tried Word Power as well as Candy Crush to kill the monotony but nothing seems to work. Upamanyu Chatterjee’s English, August is an impeccable piece of literature but I am not able to read more than two paragraphs, after every new attempt. Thus, here I am, squiggling on my laptop. This boredom, however, is so intense that I feel like an illiterate. I am not able to form words and it’s going to be a task to put phrases and sentences together. Let’s see how soon I give up. In Kashmir ‘hot’ does not mean that birds would fall from the skies, dead; a puff of air from a near-by glacier is always there to flirt with the Sun. Except, summer in Kashmir can be cheerfully dull; Beautiful yet boring. The meadows and the lakes of Kashmir are enchanting beyond wizardry and the evil eye seems to have gotten comfortable with its stay. Sigh! 70 years of infestation and she can still cast a spell and leave you bre...
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