'Kssshhhhk' .… a stone came and hit the wind screen and the resultant cracks obscured Farookh's vision.…he somehow managed to stop the van to the road side with a screech.
"What the hell"… he came out of the van....he noticed a group of people gathered fifty meters from him.
"What is wrong?" He shouted.
“Gaddar (traitor) .… Mukhbir (informant)" ..he heard some of them shouting.
"I am Kashmiri." He shouted back.
A tall man came from the crowd towards him and said from a distance… "You are from North Kashmir....Kupwara.....your vehicle number is JK 09 … nine means a traitor…" He reached near Farookh and looked at him threateningly.
Luckily, the others got busy blocking the road with stones.....but the tall man was clear and present danger. Farookh had known about North-South rivalry and had read the social media discussions on the issue….but he never expected to be part of its physical manifestation.
"Mere bhai.." He said in a conciliatory tone....."Khuda ke liye...." he folded his hands...the tall man inspected the broken wind screen...he looked contented at the damage.
Two young boys carrying sticks joined the tall man.
"You selfish people.. you do not protest…. you do not throw stones...." one of them said as he peeped inside the van. ".....and look, you are doing business while we are wanting a bandh..." he added bitterly.
"Bhaijaan, I am an average businessman...I have a family to support.....what else can i do?" Farookh pleaded.
The young man grabbed Farookh by his collar and shouted...."Aur bas hum hi karenge jaddojahad (and only we carry out the struggle?)?? Aur tum log bus mukhbiri karoge? (and you people will just snitch?)...he had fire in his eyes....Farookh's did not have much choice...he kept mum and avoided eye contact.
God was with Farookh....both young boys went back to the crowd that was now stopping all the vehicles.....the tall man and Farookh started talking as the former softened a bit.
"You people in North do not support the movement....you snitch and get fighters killed.....and in any case, you do not produce fighters." The tall man said scornfully. Farookh started to pull out the pieces of broken wind screen....carefully staying quite...
Suddenly there was a commotion behind.....the police had arrived…..the crowd started dispersing….the tall man told Farookh to get into the van and himself jumped into the co-driver's seat.
" I will show you a bypass that will take you back to the highway.....skirting the village..." he said.
As Farookh started to drive, he started feeling better....and decided to open up.
"North has seen lot of death and destruction....when South was quite….we have had enough of violence…" He said. After a brief pause he added ...“ in any case, are we lesser Kashmiris?
"...But why don't you people support the bandh calls?" The tall man said in a placating tone.
"How do we feed our children? Everyone does not have orchards .. ..and one odd bandh is okay but the whole years calendar has more bandh calls than holidays...so what do you do?” He laughed dryly.
The tall man got down having shown the bypass to Farookh.…
Farookh saw him going backwards. He took out the small knife he carried in the car….he scratched the number 09 from the license plate and drove off. As the cool wind hit his face, he started to think about the damage that he had incurred for the wind screen…...and then he thought about the damage that the community was incurring due to differences in perception.
Kaun banata hai dilon ke beech fasile iss tarah ki
apnon aur gairon ka farq benishan ho jaata hai
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