The Harrowing Night

‘ Ralive, Tsaliv ya Galive’. (convert to Islam, leave the place or perish)
‘Ralive, Tsalive ya Galive’.
Everywhere, these words are echoing. Every ticking of the biggest wooden wall clock is making him to shiver.
“They are coming. Nobody is going to save us. They are coming to kill us”, a woman is crying.
Everything was drowning inside a pool of blood. People are laughing harrowingly. He feels a steel touch on his back side of neck. It is piercing inside. It is going deep.
‘Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.’
In every middle of the night, he woke up after experiencing this nightmare. He didn’t forget a single thing which was happened since 20 years ago. He was only 5 years old and on that cold night in which he lost his everyone except his grandmother.
The scar on his back side of the neck was still there.
His phone started ringing. This was not a call, this was his alarm which used to remind him to take his medicine.
Vasuki Dar was only 5 years old when his family slaughtered by unknown people without any reasons. He would have died if his neighbours didn’t come out for help. Although, their help didn’t help him much.
He had moved to Daroja from Sopor with his grandmother. He never thought of leaving Kashmir but that night was not freeing him.
He was not meek or coward but he knew one thing, Kashmir was his home ever and forever. His Dadi used to tell him always- People are bad but not Kashmir. You are still alive because Kashmir loves you.
He completed his study in Kashmir and still he wanted to spend his life into Kashmir. He didn’t hate anyone but every night he used to cry.
He was running tuition classes in Daroja’s main market. He spent his time with young children and teenagers. His doctor always told him- If you want to forget things, you have to move to another place. You cannot forget your past, if you encounter them daily.
But how he could leave everything behind? Kashmir is his only family and he didn’t to make distance from that.
He would not go.

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