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Gaurav

Reminiscence : How Baramulla Wept

Updated: Sep 9, 2020


My name is Ghulam Anwargul Pathan and I am 88 years old. As I look back at the events of the year 1947, the loss of near and dear ones, displacement from ones ancestral lands and fear of strangers are a few life changing events which impacted me and my family during those tumultuous times.



Being a contented man with many great grandchildren, I still don’t understand how people can cause such inhuman losses to each other. So many years have passed since the Partition, and yet I can distinctly recall the atrocities as if they happened only yesterday. One may think that with time, these memories may fade and the horrors that haunted us back then would subside. However, memories from those days are far too ghastly and horrific to be forgotten. We were a renowned family owning apple orchards in Boniyar, a remote village near Baramulla. During the time of partition I was barely 15 years old and the happenings between the period from July 1947 to Oct 1948 still send shivers down my spine. I still remember the smiles and pride on the faces of my parents and grandparents when the Qazi told us about Maharaja Hari Singh’s decision to be part of India. However, the joy and happiness was short lived. Within a week we started hearing rumors of fierce barbarian tribals crossing over from Muzaffrabad and plundering the villages as they advanced towards Baramulla. Within a few days the rumors which we dreaded slowly started coming true. At first we could see groups of injured men, with babies in their arms and their wives and daughters tagging behind, moving with their household belongings towards Ganderbal and Srinagar. I listened to gruesome tales of cold blooded murders, lootings, rapes, burnings and other inhuman acts, as narrated by the refugees. One particular story is vivid in my mind in which a mother committed suicide by jumping into the Jhelum from a cliff top so that she could be spared the sight of her children being raped by the tribal invaders.





Two nights later at around 2 o’clock at night I was woken up violently from my sleep and heard my father shouting to my mother and sisters to grab their belongings, jewellery and warm clothes and move out. We commenced our journey towards safety. For two nights we walked with our possessions, careful of any strangers who lurked in the darkness, of any news of tribals in our vicinity. By daybreak or the third day, we reached the outskirts of Shalatang. From the hilltop where we were standing we could see number of houses deserted and in flames, which meant that the tribals had reached Shalatang and plundered the town, which made us change our plans to move from Srinagar to Ganderbal. Two more days we walked through the mountains, camping by day and walking at night. Even the slightest hint of danger made us change the route. At night we could hear constant firing, dropping of bombs, firing of illumination rounds and large swathes of forests under fire. I was witnessing the Battle of Shalatang from far but at that time it did not dawn on me that I was looking at the tribals being driven back and Srinagar being saved by the braves of the Indian Army. We reached our destination and I was so relieved to see that the pristine beauty of my Kashmir was intact at Ganderbal.



As time is a big healer, the days passed into months and months into years and the memory of the tragedy which took place with my family slowly started ebbing. I got to study in a good school, went to Srinagar for my graduation and got a government job in the horticulture department. Since father was adamant that we will not shift to Boniyar as such incidents may happen again. My reasoning to him that we are now an integral part of the Indian union and the Indian Army has secured our borders did not reassure him. He left for Boniyar and self with my family bought land at Ganderbal and carried on with our lives at our new home. The recent abrogation of Article 370 is the most important events for us Kashmiris and today when I see the enthusiasm, spark in the eyes of my great grandchildren, their hopes and aspirations, I firmly believe that the path on which we are progressing now will surely lead to us to realise vision of Amir Khusrau when he said “Gar firdaus, bar ruhezaminast, haminast''.



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