Third Generation of ‘K’ Conflict : An Ordeal
I am the generation that is no longer steady to work on the age old lie. What “integral part” can that be, for that when it bleeds no pain can be felt, for that when it suffers not a bit of remorse is visible across their faces. They are the celebrated assassins.
The dread of living without being able to have an existence is the first symptom of trauma associated with conflict especially for those like me, who have just happened to step into the real world, as they say.
Wanting to do something or be someone is a part of the metamorphosis while reaching adulthood, it is a vital part of the process because it keeps us motivated to constantly try, to give life another shot, to get up harder no matter how hard you’ve fell. It’s a crazy desire that secretly keeps us up all night, while we play it cool otherwise. The ‘future’ that we supposedly keep on ‘ignore mode’, flashing the IDC (I don’t care) badge to camouflage our worried souls, is one of the ghosts that keeps haunting our sub- conscious, and come to life whenever we are alone. Being constantly working and lost in the desire to achieve what we want seems to be the only food we crave for. It is this time we fear ‘defeat’ the most, it seems to be a sure sworn enemy, and we all in our own ways stand up in all arms we have, against it.
It was pretty much my life few months ago, where nothing else mattered but me, and then KA-BOOM! Reality hit me. I was woken up from my dream, reminded that I am forsaken soul of a forsaken land. That this is where I grew up, that I was not allowed ‘dreams’ or ‘future’. The land where I live has no identity, its people not counted as humans, their blood is spilled like dirty water. This place where I live is the unfortunate crown of ‘those’ who were fortunate enough in their quest for an ‘existence’, those who can now dream, feel free, breathe easy and sleep. But we are a generation of the most terrorized, subjugated, persecuted, oppressed and even depressed. We are the generation of barbed wires, AK-47z, bullets, pellets, tear gas, chilly bombs and what not. From Curfews to Crackdowns we have seen it all, we bear the burden of molested women, orphaned children, rickety men, blinded youth and the “graveyards” that have and continue to take in the dreams, the laughter, the childhood, the adolescence along with the bullet/ pellet stricken or tortured or disfigured or mutilated bodies. Yes, I am the generation that bears the brunt of staying at home and wanting to die. I am the generation that is no longer steady to work on the age old lie. What “integral part” can that be, for that when it bleeds no pain can be felt, for that when it suffers not a bit of remorse is visible across their faces. They are the celebrated assassins.
Our brains were to be programmed only to their convenience, and if this is not true then tell me why ain’t we taught any of Kashmir’s history in schools. We all know about the Revolt of 1857 or Jallainvala Bagh but why not about what happened on the infamous 13th of July or 27th of October 1947 or what is the Instrument of Accession. We are taught about the partition of India but most of us still don’t know what happened and our relatives from Muzaffarabad, Gilgit etc became a distant dream. Not only is our body enslaved but our brains are under constant surveillance.
I was not surprised to find a hate tweet in form of a poem by a person connected with “The Digital India” campaign. His words only brought forth the realities of hearts for the so called Crown. The veritable despicability that the blood bath is enjoyed and cherished by the true patriots. Such hate monger will not be touched because he is from a free land, but my compatriot who shares a video showing the reality of modern day autocracy is lingering in some jail, sadly the autocrat still enjoys the title of being a “democracy”.
Much was said and preached to this community about progress and development. The fascination of earning did lure our minds. Financial security, economic stability sounded like supreme goals until the Newton’s apple fell struck us as hard as a coconut would, and we discovered they need machines that would facilitate only what they desire. Our brains were to be programmed only to their convenience, and if this is not true then tell me why ain’t we taught any of Kashmir’s history in schools. We all know about the Revolt of 1857 or Jallainvala Bagh but why not about what happened on the infamous 13th of July or 27th of October 1947 or what is the Instrument of Accession. We are taught about the partition of India but most of us still don’t know what happened and our relatives from Muzaffarabad, Gilgit etc became a distant dream. Not only is our body enslaved but our brains are under constant surveillance.
They once said “a pen is mightier than a sword”; this might hold true in the egalitarian communities, the one I grew in knows only bars and arrests and draconian laws. Were pens and books look good only for photo-ops. Like my counterparts elsewhere in the world, ‘Future’ scares me too, though not in the same sense. I’m more scared of what I will become, my dreams are more blurred than ever and the only thing I seem to be sure of is what I do not want to be. I do not want to turn out to be a puppet, one of the thousand other stooges, of this brutal regime. I do not want to lose my own perspective of viewing things; I do not want to be amongst those who see blatant violations of human rights as mere law & order disturbances. I do not want to turn into a deaf merciless beast no matter how much financially that secures me. So “future” has a new definition, from where I see it, it’s a nightmare and I don’t even know how many of us will make it to ‘future’.
No matter how many scare crows be kept in way, no matter this time or not. Time takes its course, and so it shall. The ones determined to win shall taste victory. For sure those who try are the ones to achieve ‘Glory’. More than the fear of future this time it’s the fear of ‘Defeat’ that give me & my compatriots sleepless nights. It’s the thought of succumbing to the pressures and giving up, it’s the thought of being called a loser once again. The inability to move forward, the fear of the ever so malignant occupation, the fear that it will gradually engulf what started as a step to determine “Our Own Future”.
Author is a student of law at KU and can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org
Disclaimer: Views expressed are exclusively personal and do not necessarily reflect the position of Oracle Opinions.