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Growing up in Kashmir amid mad bullets hasn& #39;t been easy. The trauma is collective, yet we try to be the best of ourselves. Seeing all the hate online, I am proud to say that we turned out to be better human beings despite the torture we have been subjected to. (Thread)
First memory is of jackboots and gun-totting men entering your house and years later you can& #39;t differentiate if it was a dream or a real-life event.
Memories of visits to grandparents in a north Kashmir are of long uncomfortable road trips. The bus is stopped at many places & the gun-totting men ask the men to get down and show their identity in long queues. Did we wait for hours or minutes, years later, I can& #39;t tell.
One day as you have a guest over for dinner, the darkness is rattled by a blast & gunshots. The entire night you try to sleep pressing ur ears to shut the noise. Next morning your father takes you to school through narrow alleys because you can& #39;t miss that God damn test.
On another ocassion, you are doing your homework and there& #39;s a blast. Hours later you and your family is asked to leave the house and when you look back from the car window, you see a man in flames jumping out of the burning building.
One day, u return from school & see a lawn full of people & police & chaos in your house. As ur tender mind tries to make sense of things u hear words like grenade, blast & lose your mind knowing that your father was in the house when the grenade exploded and now he& #39;s in the hosp
Despite assurances from everyone, you can& #39;t stop crying until you see him safe an fine with a minor splinter injury on his back.
