The Kashmiri Catastrophe

A beautiful valley among the mountains, a piece of heaven on earth. Torn into two pieces. Hell has made its place in Heaven. Neighbourhoods, which used to be filled with the laughter of children in the east of Kashmir, now reflect a sight of bloodshed and torture. While the Azad Kashmir lives in peace with Pakistan their hearts ache for their brothers and sisters in the Jammu Kashmir, illegally occupied by India.

A young girl from such a neighbourhood opens the door of her house to peek outside. No one in sight. Asma picks up her bag, hanging it over her shoulder. Reciting a few verses from the Quran, she steps out and begins walking down a path. She keeps looking behind her just to be sure that it’s safe. She watches as her friend approaches from another path and joins her.

The two have high hopes that they could reach school today. So many times they had to run back to the safety of their homes, as they would discover nearby riots on their way to school. After taking a few turns, they heard shouting coming from a little distance. The smell of smoke filled the air. They began running as soon as the sounds of vehicles reached them.

 Running as fast as their little feet would carry them. A police mobile came into view behind them and the girls dropped their bags, hoping they could run faster that way. But they were wrong. The men in khaki uniforms jumped off from their vehicle and began chasing the two little girls, who desperately tried to escape their grasp. The men kept shouting angrily at them, telling them to stop. One of them took an aim with his gun, his bullet missing the girl only by an inch. The two innocent children were crying and terrified. They no longer had any idea where to run. Which way was home?

Asma looked back to see how far they were, but she tripped and fell. Her friend ran up to her to help her, but it was too late. The devil was upon them, and there was no escaping him. He pulled Asma away from her friend and tore off her hijab. She struggled to see with the constant rush of tears. Three more men came into view as they began beating up Asma and her friend. They dragged the little angels by the hair, tossing them in their vehicle, having caught their prey, they left.

The shouts of the little girls died down, as did the sirens of the police mobile. A boy hiding behind the dumpster came out. Realizing he was safe now, he sighed. He had wanted to help, but what he could he have done? The same people had dragged away his father and shot his mother not too long ago. His heart ached immensely, but there was nothing he could do to help. As he turned to leave, a hand reached out for his throat. It pained for a little while, but everything went dark really soon as a tear rolled down his cheek.