Twice Exiled and Still Braving 

 

 Unlucky at the ple who face exile in theit own country and even worse are those. whose narrative no one is ready to listen or believe. Many of my countrymen feel that everything was hunky dory till 19 January 1990 when during a cold black night 6 to 7 lakh Kashmiri pandits were compelled to leave their belongings bebind to save their lives. In order to mellow down the things, a narrative was set in a very diver manner that, "they left on theit own" and "Jagmohan was instrumental in making them to flee from their places. There were some journalists who made us elite and those who engineered our exile as poor supressed people, still others dismissed these happenings as Bf creation for getting public sympathy but no one till date is ready to listen the shrieks of these 6 to 7 lakh people because they are neither a vote bank, nor take arms in their hands against any person or government. They are peace loving, Law abiding, educated, common citizens of the world's biggest democracy with distinct language and culture of their own. I don't know when this dark night of being refugee in our own country will end still, I have a story to tell. It is riot easy to leave one's birthplace and become refugee that too not once but twice in one's own lifetime. My parents Sh. Makhan Lal Bhat and Smt. Sheela Bhat from Bandipore Kashmir, faced first exile from their respective homes just after independence in 1948, popularly known as 'Kabali raid'. My mother was 8 years old at that time reading in the third standard. Her father was working with the government. They had to flee from their village dominated by Muslims. They had stayed in Srinagar and lived as refugees for nearly six months. That was refugee within state and atter returned to their village, bei few months they ret the threat had persisted with them for sume ime This incident had made my grandpanmte to get my mother married at an aryl age of 11 years. This affected her education and childhood badly of which, she bore remorse throughout her Me and made a point to give good education to her children My Esther was around 12 years at the time of 'Kabali raid, his father was a prosperous shopkeeper in the village. The Kabali invaders supported by Pakistan army were targeting Hindu families so people left their homes for safe destinations. As the news of Kabali raiders about to approach Bandipore became public, my grandfather Sh. Halder Bhat had handed ever his only son (my father) to his Muslim servant Lal Guros Lal Guroo had taken my father to his villagefor a few days and brought him back to home after Kabli raiders had left the village My father had high respect for him throughout his life. In 1990 people like Lal Guroo were nowhere despite prosperity and education everywhere in Kashmir. Lal Guroo was illiterate but faithful and morally high. My grandfather had declined to leave the village. He had openly said to his people that it is better to die amongst my own people rather than to leave the village for where I have no acceptance. This was mainly out of his being a respected person of the village. We had nickname of 'karawal' which in Sanskrit means to collect tax. This name to the family was assigned as my great grandfather Krishana Karawa used to collect revenue for the King My grandmother had died much before Kabali raid My parents like other Kashmiri pandits of the arms neglected this trauma despite knowing that some neighbours of nearby were hand in glove with raiders and participated in loot with them. My father worked as schoolteacher till his retirement. Every student parent appreciated his dedication towards duty and everyone in the vicinity respected him for teaching their children. There were no private schools at that time, government schools were the only ray of hope. Muslim boys and girls used to be in his class. Their parents felt so obliged by his guidance to their children that they would pay "Salam wherever they saw him. His students grew into known professionals, some became professors, doctors, engineers and even progressed in other walks of life. They showed great respect towards my father and even some admired that their growth was posable due to his guidance. He would teach students during winter at home without any charges and some used to pay in the form of agricultural products out of respect though it was not mandatory. Those days in the villages of Kashmir teacher was highly respected and his guidance was taken with positivity. My father's word was taken seriously by the peoplehe had taught. There was no religious barrier. He had become a synonym of simplicity and dedication towards his duty in the nearby villages where he delivered his services as a teacher. With the advancing age he wanted to settle down, but it was not possible due to sudden eruption of militancy. The slogan that Pandits must leave valley else face the consequences started becoming public. Many Kashmiri Pandits like Tikka lalTaploo, Neel kanth Ganjoo etc were put to death. The news of killings on the radio was breeding panic in everyone. Local Muslims were not ready to talk or those who talked suggested it is better for you to leave the valley for some time. The sober would say, you are our guests, but no one would utter that you are like us, we will live or die together. The atmosphere of fear had gripped everyone, even 22 neighbours leared to go together with Hindily in the village The division was emphatically wnable and fear was growing in the air. Pandits left the valley to save their lives leaving behind all their life long property like cattle, nechuds or fields The atmosphere before the advent of militancy was cosmopolitan in the whole Bandipora. It was difficult to believe that anyone will stand with a wrong person despite his religious affiliation. There was no religious barrier when it came to moral aspects. Muslima used to visit our homes and we used to visit them without any hindrance. There was mutual respect for each other. There were just 100 to 150 pandit families in the whole Bandipora district This beautiful dutrict earlier Tehsil is a valley in itself within Kashmir valley and was known for Education (Alim), Culture (Adab) and water (Ahab). My parents before their departure to heavens may not have missed a single day to recount their yesteryears. Their love for that land and its people was indomitable so is it with my generation. Bandipora galore in our heart and soul but nothing can be said about the generation next. The pain for being away from your land can't be filled by anything in return Seeing no end to the dark night, my father- a staunch lover of the place where he had grown up, played, enjoyed, and served the people assiduously, wanted to have his cremation in the same village so that all those whom he had taught, helped, known will be around him. This last wish too could not be fulfilled. He died in Delhi and was taken to Jammu in J&K state those days, for cremation He never compromised on his beliefs and rejected all those who came in between him and. his duties despite facing exile twice in his lifetime. His resonance to stand against the odds of life has proved a bone for the whole family t stand on its own legs, without any support, i difficult times.

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Courtesy: MK Bhat  and Koshur Samachar-2025 , April