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Wings flattering to get the affection of flight , mountains aspiring to heights , children’s ceasing to dance , light overpowering dark . Where has it come , A halo so shallow. Life is mauled and I lay deep thinking at the stars. Not the poet , nor a theatre person I am a man of bullets and reason.

A week before , I was discussing a birthday surprise for my favourite sister in the family.  And to this we never had a chance to eat the bite of the ordered , unreached cake.  My father asked me is the internet working? And I said no , but i had wanted it so bad. Internet which is making every step to join humanity was banned. It was stopped by ( I-Dont – know – what – to – call – them ) …. I was called downstairs for tea and while I was waiting for my father at dastar Khan ,  news flash and thirty dead. This is zulum(Atrocities) , my father whispered and sipped a hot namkeen chai, famous all over Kashmir.  It is strange to see the earning hand of your family sitting idle in house doing nothing .  Some may call it a family time but I call it a Hostage life.  Devoid of everything. Devoid of food ,  medicines and freedom to travel. The architecture of Kashmir houses is such that we have a house that we can tour. Thank God for that. But many people still don’t have that and live in a one storyed house. But luckily , I have been lucky enough to get  a house of three storey where in the life of Hostage I can at least roam.  From one room to another , Kitchen to Hall , Hall to dinning and then sleep. Like you are already dead the other morning.  Days passed and I saw my father along my side every day and every night . Well for my mother it was a summer vacation turned into a threat as she is a teacher in a local government school.  We watched news every day and followed their instruction. ” Tomorrow is curfew”


“Kashmir bandh “. The best part about this  is , the announcement of mornings through chirping birds because its so silent out there that even an ant can’t escape your instinct.  Thirty plus dead as a news channel shouted. “Shivers and misery across the valley.”

“Beautiful valley succumbed”. As these headlines captured every eye of us , the freedom seekers lost theirs. Bullets, bomb shells and what not. Life is miserable. And nicely elaborated by the army men. Men in the uniforms , like naked bullets.

A woman aged sixty , when asked about her heath condition said :-

” I was sitting in my home. They ( army men) came and dragged us from our rooms. It was me and my son who was beaten and whose voices remain choked. Where to go , where to check in. This is happening since 90’s , is it ever going to end”.

Its the seventh day of full complete shutdown in Kashmir valley. I ask a question do you sometimes feel a threat inside your own house? Threat of being dragged to the dirtiest hole on earth.  Nothing stops and nothing starts. Its always in the middle and edge. It is always about the valley on edge. It is always about the blood. Its always about the freedom. A seven letter word , a seven day of restrictions a resurrection is all we need a resurrection.