Again with the first dry day, to augur the onset of summer after a long spell of rains, the events started unfolding, Kashmir became the boiling pot with the simmering steam, gathered enough, to burn its summers. This, however, coincides with the formation of new government which supposedly was to bloom the fresh flowers of peace and stability and the healing of old wounds with the pristine touch of swanky hands. There are a few questions that cross the mind under the shade of this blistering milieu. Is this just a coincidence? If coincidence, why killings? Was NIT issue a precursor to destabilize peace which failed to garner the results that led to the spill of blood at Handwara. Without pointing a finger to anybody, the fuming Kashmir is bread and butter for many, after all the value of life in Kashmir is not even worth two scorning hoots.
For Kashmir, Handwara incident is not to achieve anything. Did any such episode over the years achieve anything? Could the deaths of those who open their chests to bullets even furl a leaf? 112 deaths in 2010 could not even wobble an arm of the chief ministers chair. In 2008 during Amarnath land row, 63 lives were lost, what happened? 2009, Asiya Neelofar case burnt the valley for six months, nothing happened. The spilling blood over the streets during the last two and a half decades have occupied the news headlines of local vernacular and eventually the blood printed on these papers is relegated to the dustbins or being stacked over one another in forgotten archives for future references.
Imagine the body of a son, all drenched in blood, breathlessly limping in the hands of strangers being carried to a mother who with the first glimpse of his dying son crashes to the floor. Imagine the father, who brings up his son with the hope to carry him to the grave and instead carries his coffin on his frail shoulders. Imagine the eyes of a mother with which she looks at her growing son only to find him leaving these eyes eternally stained with tears. Imagine how she dresses up her child for the school, how she waits in the evening for him to return and feeds him with her hands , smiles with his smile, giggles on his pointless chatter and then one day she finds him becoming one more figure to add to the countless insignificant deaths. Can the flip of few currency notes before her eyes recompense her eternal loss or the enquiries and condemnations do her the favor. She is placed in the state perpetual grief by the nonchalant characters who satisfy their egos and sense of power with the blood of a mother's son and a father's support.
Responsibility of these killings cannot be shifted to only one faction in the game. The 'triggers' and the 'reactors' are equally responsible. One camp that is without a well defined roadmap, have been unflappably sitting over their single streaked strategy of hartals and protests, do not aid less in the useless splash of blood and swelling of graveyards. Do they feel the pain of the mothers? Does their heart sink with the quite sobs of a father and the wails of a sister? What have they achieved with their silly maneuvering of events, the hopeless sense of decision making and judgment of situations. With the passage of time and with every clumsy handling of incident of violence, their theories and policies are becoming extraneously irrelevant and redundant. For how long do they have to depend on the blood to spill as their means to achieve the end?
And the other camp who rule, enforce the law, and shout at the top of their voice in the news studios are no less chameleons to change colors as per the situation. They are omnipresent, supposedly, to secure the lives of people. They feel the pain of lathis on their brethren but plug their ears to the wails and cries of those who bleed with their lethal guns and bullets! Ensure the teams to visit those who smash the public property in the name of nationalism and wear blinkers to the blood soaked bodies lying on the streets! They feel the pain of a broken limb of 'Shaktiman' but do not even notice agony of a father who washes the stains of his son's blood on the street to avoid anybody laying foot on it. Do they see their own mother in the wailing mothers of those who are killed with their bullet? I wonder, how do they sleep with the pack of lies under their belt! Does their conscience prick them on their spree of killings? Do they hold themselves responsible for being what they are and where they are or just pass the buck to others, with self satisfying grimace of being helpless or saying to themselves, I have not directly done it.
Who is responsible if you are not? Am asking every cog in the system, every individual who matters, be it in the camp of 'triggers' or the camp 'reactors'. And for God sake, tell me, when is this game of blood going to end and when will you stop stuffing your pockets against the blood of innocents?