Dear Pakistan,
Over six months ago, we woke up like it was yet another day for caged birds that sing to the deaf in a dark and lonely corner of a pet shop. It wasn’t that bad. You get used to never feeling free, able to be outside, go to school, get groceries with soldiers watching your every move. We were used to it but we would always wish to get what we deserve.
We deserve to live and breathe as freely as you… yes you… dear Pakistan.
We would like to thank you for standing up for us when we need it the most. And also for not limiting your support to what you call ‘Kashmir Solidarity Day’.
We pray that you never have to live through the pain of losing a loved one, but do you have any idea how it feels to lose one when you aren’t even sure if they’re gone forever? Do you have an idea what it feels like to lose touch indefinitely?
We had woken up to a bright August morning. It was just another Monday, and like the rest of the world, Mondays are hard for us too. Little we knew, that this Monday was going to rob us of even the paltry autonomy we had struggled to achieve for decades.
The government led by fascist Narendra Modi announced abrogating Article 370 of the Indian Constitution, revoking the special status of this troubled heaven, spelling misery for us yet again. We weren’t sure what would follow, some of us had no idea what even it meant, but it wasn’t later that we realised how it was the beginning of the end.
As protests gripped the valley, Indian forces stooped to a new low. While activists and political leaders were arrested, kids were tortured; communication blackouts were set in place and certain parts of the disputed territory still remain under lockdown.
Of the 4,000 people, one of the 144 children picked up by Indian occupying forces between August 5 and September 23 last year, was a nine-year-old. His mother had passed away and he was abandoned by his father. He was detained when he went out to get a loaf of bread, and had to spend two days in detention until he was set free by the sweet relief of death.
In a village in southern Kashmir, a 22-year-old was picked up in a midnight raid and tortured for more than an hour along with a dozen other Kashmiris. He was beaten with sticks, rifle butts and they kept asking him why he went for a protest march. He kept telling them he didn’t, but they didn’t stop. After he fainted, they used electric shocks to revive him.
While some mothers have lost their children to Indian brutality, others have lost their unborn babies to the lockdown. Besides that, pellet guns being shot in abdomens of pregnant women and eyes of infants, is but the terrible tale of every other Kashmiri family.
Within minutes of the abrogation, the internet was blocked. People were expecting mobile networks to be shut by the government as well in order to restrict communication in the valley. Our social media accounts have been deactivated due to inactivity, and our loved ones we managed to send out of Kashmir for a better life, don’t even know if we’re dead or alive.
Don’t take us wrong, dear Pakistan, we’re not scared. We never were. Death, torture or detentions are not new to us. Tens of thousands of us have been killed since the rebellion erupted 30 years ago. But we just want you to know what it means to us when you express your support.
We just want you to know what it means for us, knowing that you are not forgetting us like many others.
We have not lost hope, but only because neither of us has lost each other.
Here’s to a new life… here’s to our love for you and your support for us…
Here’s to freedom…
Love,
Kashmir
