A Kashmiri Friend

With the approach of winter, a large number of people from Kashmir descend to different parts of India. Most of them sell woollen products, few take to manual rickshaw driving and those seeking employment in hills like Shimla take to various manual jobs. This not only saves them from the chilling cold in Kashmir but also brings some income. Chandigarh is one of the main destinations for these seasonal Kashmiri migrants. They can be seen ferrying on their newly bought bicycles in different sectors with the bale, stuffed with woollen products, resting on the carrier. Those not acquainted to driving bicycle move around on foot with bale hanging on shoulder.

The glimpse of these people reminds me of my brief but quite warm association with a Kashmiri youth named Mustaq. In the winter of early eighties, during my student days in Chandigarh, a friend introduced me to him. Mustaq had come to Chandigarh to sell woollen products. He was residing in a one room rented Barsati in Sector 15 along with two other Kashmiri youths. His family was in woollen business. Mustaq had thick beard, curly hair and medium built and would talk in slow and measured tone. In our first meeting, I was taken aback on learning that he had Masters in English and Sociology. In our society, it is almost quite unbelievable that someone with two postgraduate degrees was selling products on streets and this placed him high in my esteem. Mustaq was mature in political thinking and was quite aware of various socio-economic and political developments taking place in J&K and around.

We used to meet almost regularly in evening in his barsati and mostly talked about Kashmir amidst Kashmiri tea offered graciously by Mustaq. He was quite distressed with the political situation there. The topic of corruption and nepotism was very close to his heart. According to him the corruption had spread its tentacles in every sphere of life in Kashmir and had reached a stage where it acquired a sort of legitimacy. He talked about the covert nexus between the bureaucracy and politicians for whom common masses did not matter. Things there had come to such a pass that only those who had resources could succeed in getting any work done. This had resulted in complete alienation of common masses. His talk gave me an inkling of restlessness and drift among masses, which could be exploited and given a direction.

The winter gave way to spring. And it was time for Mustaq to return to Kashmir. He gave his bicycle to me as a parting gift and promised to meet during next winter sojourn. As luck would have it, Mustaq went to Nagpur next winter and wrote a letter from there. He found Nagpur a better market for his products. After this I lost contact with him. I kept on posting New Year greetings for a few years but later gave up on not getting any response.

Recently I had been to Vijayawada in AP and met an ever-smiling Kashmiri youth. I talked about Mustaq with him and requested to look for him. Since his place was close to Mustaq’s place, he promised to help. I was apprehensive that Mustaq might have also joined a militant group. Although I had firm faith on his political mature ness but some time circumstances act as strong currents. After few days, on my return to Chandigarh, the telephone rang and I recognized the slow and measured Kasmiri accented tone of Mustaq.

He had shifted to Karnataka as the situation in Kashmir worsened with the ascent of militancy. The dwindling number of tourists during the summer left with little earnings and it forced him to shift his business to Karnataka. I felt relieved listening about his well-being and happy on redeeming an old friendship. Thanks to ever-smiling Kashmiri youth.