Snatch (Thap)

Over the last 100 days, almost 9000 Kashmiris have been detained/arrested in what is believed to be the largest crackdown on protests in history. Such is the fear of the arrests, that mothers warn their children of a possible thap (snatch in Kashmiri) by the authorities.

In the ancient times, a tyrant king ruled over Egypt. A prophecy was made that a boy will be born in a Jewish family who will rise against the King and defeat him. Shocked, the King killed every single boy born to a Jewish mother. The newly borns were informed upon and later they were slaughtered by the King’s army.

A few days ago in a neighbourhood in Srinagar, the police raided the houses with ladders to break in to the houses. The detention spree is so widespread, that many parents have sent their kids out of Kashmir, and some have gone underground. In these cases, the police usually detain the father so as to blackmail the kids into surrender.

Continue reading “Snatch (Thap)”

Digital India’s Genocide Poem

Earlier today, a poem was posted by the official government of India’s Twitter Handle which calls for genocide of Kashmiris.

 

 

Here’s a translation:

Digital India called it ‘Heights of Patriotism’

Darwaazey pe kundi maaro Koyee Naa bach ke jaaney paaye army ko samjha do firing ghalti se Bhi rukh Na paaye

Lock the doors, nobody should come out alive, army should be made to understand, that don’t stop firing even out of mistake

Daba daba Jo feel Karey woh jaake bomb goli gatak le …Aur jis ko nahi rehna yaha woh Pakistan jaake bhains charaye..

Keep pumping the ammo, so that they can digest bombs and bullets, and those who don’t want to stay, can go to Pakistan to feed cows

bas aaj ki baat hai kal se to nayee shuruwaat hai. jee bhar ke thok lo bhaaiyo naa ghar waaley inke baap hai.

It’s just today, tomorrow is a new beginning, shoot them wholeheartedly, you’re the father (of Kashmiris)

yaha par apna raaj hai dar ne ki kya baat hai ye to bas shuruwaat yeh to bas shuruwaat hai….

It is our reign here, so don’t fear… this is just the beginning, just the beginning

arey abhi to goli shuru huwee hai… arey abhi to goli shuru huwee hai… baad mein naa kehna kuch bhi pehle hi de do warning vande maataram kehna hoga every in the morning.

The bullets have just started… the bullets have just started… don’t say this later, to give us warning, you will have to say vande mataram every morning

suuchna janhith mein jaari jis ko apni jaan pyaari chup chaap vo chauk pe aaye . chauk pe aake jan gan man gaaye nakhre vakhre yaha naa dikhaye

The announcement has been made in public interest, those who love their lives, should come to the square and sing the Jana Gana Mana (Indian anthem), don’t throw your tantrums here

 

The tweet was later deleted. But screenshots have been taken, as of now no apologies have been issued.

Thanks to @Syedakhanz for the translation.

A mother’s unfulfilled wish

​”Lajya mye’an wean’s”  (May my life be yours) a dua which is on the lips of every Kashmiri mother.

 
My mother like any other mother, just said the same dua on a phone call. Basit’s mother flashed in my mind. I could see her still eyes when she saw her son laid on a bed that she didn’t prepare. Her still face mustering all her courage, trying to not give away any emotion. She was fixing his shroud with her hands. 

For 23 years, she held him next to her bosom. Cried when he got hurt, stayed awake for nights when Basit was ill. Made sure he ate his meals (Kashmiri mothers make sure of this), and watched him as he left to his school on the first day. For the next decade waited for him to come back from school. 


She must have said this dua for him too. I am sure. But tonight when she spreads the Dasrarkhwaan, she will have an empty extra plate, the one Basit always would eat from. Would she step into his room, and smell his clothes. 
There’s no greater pain for a mother to lose her child. You see, In Kashmir, sons and daughters are raised like grooms and brides. Like any mother, she would have had a dream of him being successful and marrying him off. The benchmark of ultimate happiness… 
Everything has been snatched from her. Her son, her dreams for him, his own dreams. A life. 
Imagine the pain of the mothers, of their slaughtered children. How harrowing must it be to bid adieu to what they loved more than their own lives. 
May Allah protect our children and our parents…there’s just pain and agony in every corner of my country, may no mother witness this, may no father have to carry his son’s lifeless body to the graveyard…

We can be friends, if you become our allies in the struggle.Β 

They ask us, why do Kashmiris go to India to study and work. They ask us to see India’s growth and development. They remind us of their GDP numbers, the trade percentage and all that financial numbers. 

They love us but behind the garb of this duplicity they take a dagger and stab us in the back. Their love will never understand what an occupation means, because they don’t live under one. Under their hypocritical nationalism, they can’t ask their killing troops to come home. 

They won’t protest outside the headquarters of the army, and demand punishment for their crimes. They won’t protest in the streets and carry “End the Indian Occupation”. But they sure will under the garb of justice, indianise our struggle, as an internal matter. 

I don’t hate Indians, and I have no reason to love them either. Neither I’ll ever ask them to give their attention to us, cos not only is their nationalism hypocritical but also they are morally corrupt. 

If you don’t have an established record of critique of our oppression, don’t go around with criticism of our resistance. 

As far as jobs and working in India goes, the day you take your troops home. We won’t need to be in the sweltering heat and hate of Indian state. We will be free.

We may not be the richest nation of the world, but surely we will be free. And their is nothing more worthy in the world than that. We may not be the world’s superpower, but for sure the warmth of returning home without the fear of occupation, will be powerful enough. 

Keep your love and sympathies with you. If you want to support Kashmir, become our allies. Solidarity with Kashmir means demanding end of the occupation, and supporting our right to political destiny, to be independent. If you’re ready to do that. We can be friends. 
Salam
Note: There are many Indians who are our allies in the struggle, this is not for them. We love them. Like our friends and neighbours.

Crown of India and other bullshit taught in my schoolΒ 

​I remember in school, to my question on Kashmiri Independence, the teacher would often give me the explanation of

“Look at the Indian map, if we take out Kashmir, it will become ugly and the map wouldn’t look good” or “Kashmir is like India’s Crown, if you had a crown would you take it off.”

No factual analysis, no documents to support the facts. But since we were kids, we are supposed to accept whatever was told. 

I knew that it was just bollocks, but the way these answers would be repeated in class would just make me angry. How our own teachers are cheating us off our own history. 

Or the two sentence mention of Kashmir acceded to India after tribals invaded. “Maharaja kya karta woh majboor hogaya” (the Maharaja was left with no other option). 

So like always I would find answers in the crackdowns as a little boy, why Kashmir wants freedom. I know our elders thought that “this is not your thing, go study or play” but in that quietness, I would observe and listen. 

So much so that I was banned from going to the Bakers in the morning, cos I would give my turn to others as I wanted to listen more of our history. 

Few months ago, I went back to the same school where some teachers would make a fool out of us all. In one of the first classes, I asked them about Kashmir’s history. To my surprise, I heard “India is a democracy and if people fight obviously they would kill.” I was shocked, and saddened in that minute of silence.

Until one girl in her teens gets up and says “Sir, she’s talking nonsense, the psychological warfare is working well on her but not us”, another boy stands up and “it is the Indian occupation of our country, if we do not fight we are not human beings”. Another girl echoing from the last row, “Sir, we want freedom that’s it”  and quickly sits down. 

I had a lump in my throat by the end of the class. I went home passing through the old streets where I would pedal home. Our new generation knows and they know well. 
As much as it makes me sad that the fifth generation of Kashmiris have lost their childhood to the occupation, it swells me with pride that our resistance has found a new home, among the young.