In
the busy streets of maharaja bazaar – named after Maharaja Hari Singh, buried
are stories of joy, success, agony, and not to forget oppression. Bashir Ahmad
comes up with yet another tale of brutality of Indian forces in Kashmir.
Bashir, 65, is wearing traditional Kashmiri attire. His wrinkled complexion
reflects his experience, and the sunken eyes reflect the agony. His white beard
sprinkling like morning sun, seeking attention and giving an impression of him
being a man of dynamism, standing tall he is well built and has a physique of
an athlete, which he says is attained by his vigorous daily routine.
“It
was one of those cold December mornings in Kashmir, when I was taking my cart
with commodities to Maharaja bazaar when around a dozen of troops stopped me on the pretext
of knowing my identity, and started beating me ruthlessly. I was beaten to pulp
and hit wherever they could including the private parts, the pain I felt was so
severe, that words would fall short to explain it. My limbs got paralysed for
one year”, says Bashir.” With moist eyes.
“This had a gruesome effect on my family, not only had they to feed their own
bellies themselves but a burden that is me. And to do that they sacrificed and
took to begging, something that will stay with me even after death”.
No comments:
Post a Comment