At times, it’s literally hard to define and detect pain. Pain can roll up to the surface. Else it can remain raged within. Its manifestation is not always obvious. It’s primarily because each individual has their version of pain and the threshold to tolerate it. There are many ways to look at the pain in our lives. One way is to feel defeated and frightened over the inevitability of change around us, especially painful changes. The other is to take on the same set of facts to use pain as a constant reminder of the fleeting state of life—That nothing stays forever. And nothing possesses in transience. So, one of the only certainties in life is Change.
We are born. We grow. We live. We wither. And we die. The story of life begins. Then ends. Along the way, we step on varied experiences. The world fetches lasting lessons. We re-learn many a bitter truth. We de-learn many a nasty fact. We apprehend events in and out. We recognize real and unreal. We smell things good and bad. We counter situations gracing and humiliating. We see people in black and blue. We explore personalities deep and shallow. We feel emotions fervent and feeble. We capture realities easy and hard. In brief, we struggle to understand the basic nuance: A slice of life purporting an amazing mosaic!
That’s why the universal flux and fragility of human affairs helps nurture pain in different determined directions. Pain can per se turn out to be a change agent. The past two months have been quite traumatic for Kashmir; innocent killings and unabated bloodshed. Kashmir has completely become synonymous with pain. It’s a living, throbbing pain. Purporting a saddened mosaic. The gory visuals of dead and injured; the letters of tears and torment; the scenes of yelling and screaming; the wailing of mothers and kids; the gatherings of mourning and funerals; the raging streets; the garrisoned places; and the cold bloody land—the images beget typical desolation that has struck Kashmir like an avalanche. A tragic saga of political predicament that seems to consume Kashmir atrociously.
Each day, Kashmir dawns into an unthinkable catastrophe that turns thinkable by the turn of the dusk. Strange darkness swathes it. Graves warm up to their new dwellers. Young bodies shroud the soil. Slogans and shouts rip through the dappled nights. Scalpels of cruelty shred deep the wounds of its memory. Of savage cruelty. Of bleeding promises. Of historical betrayals. Of the theatre of absurd exploited by the cunning factors.
So, Kashmir dribbles blood, day in and day out. Pain seethes as propaganda machinery paints Kashmir farcically, from the so-called “social grace” arguments of culture-vultures who believe in the philosophy of ‘dog doesn’t eat dog’ to displays of Olympian detachment by being blind to huge tyranny on their own people. Behind the claptrap and ambiguity of politicians and policemen, the failure of statecraft scoffs at its mega-size. The frustration is festering. And amidst all this, Kashmir resurges with its pain, more resolute than ever before. As coffin count up, the chutzpah in Kashmir is unsurprisingly getting established. The narrative of resilience is taking shape over and again, talked about in every household, from kids to elders. From a local shopkeeper to privileged medico, everyone is drawn in the wretchedly challenging situation.
For so much suffering has gone into its making, where almost every commoner has put up with its bit, it now needs to be interpreted and handled carefully. No gainsaying, with colossal desolation, arrive intense responsibilities to safeguard the fortitude behind such ordeal. Kashmir needs hearing. Kashmir needs healing. The trauma is bulging with the new generation absorbing it deeply.
There is so much pain around. The palpable, piercing pain. So much agony. The touching, terrible agony. Kashmir is besieged in bereavement. It’s harboring horror as well as hopes. Lest pain here becomes a politico-military football and public alienation pops further, people at the helm of affairs need to respect and value this ordeal with perception. It’s a herculean task. If collective pain in Kashmir is letdown, it will leave an ugly, indelible mark behind. Something that will alter the future discourse on Kashmir and prove as a historical comedown. Mind it, when the pain gets excruciating and numbs the thought, the dead bodies get bargained. The pain of denial seems worse than the grief of loss.
Beyond bullets and blasts, beyond corpses and coffins, Kashmir deserves permanent peace. From local Muslims, Pandits and Sikhs to non-local workers; civilians, cops to combatants; Kashmir is devouring human lives across the spectrum. For God’s sake, let us accept the ground realities and shun this injustice and brutality before Kashmir turns into a graveyard for all.
Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are the personal opinions of the author. The facts, analysis, assumptions and perspective appearing in the article do not reflect the views of GK