In our quasi normalcy time, it was just three hours journey from Srinagar to Banihal. Though, cumbersome due to many checkpoints, identifications and quizzing by security forces that has become part of our destiny since my college days. We have been tamed for such humiliations and we hardly react to it now. We realize our limited rights, divine rule of AFSPA and hedonistic exhibition of Geep tying incidents of civilians.
Every time we leave home, we always bear in mind that we have to face fatal challenges and we do often recite Ayat-ul-kursi for not getting trapped into any such mishap which has been consuming our lives in every corner of the Valley at fast speed.
This day on my journey to Banihal, either my prayers did not reach to Almighty or I hurried without knowing the fact that everything has changed in Jammu and Kashmir since recent elections. Not only Kashmir, but India is changing in every aspect of life.
I had to reach higher secondary school in Khari Banihal where students from remote and inaccessible hilly areas were eager to quiz me about my career and take tips for their life, safety and future. I was dreading about the fact what I should tell them if they raise questions on safety concerns of girls.
It turned out to be the most horrible day in my life.
At crossing near sangam, one of the security officials directed my driver to park the car on the other side of the road where dozens of vehicles with frustrated people inside were already being put under “halt surveillance”. Road was dusty, Sun was red and rage was rising.
JK police official coming from the opposite side in a vehicle expressed helplessness. “National highway is controlled and managed directly by CRPF. I have no role but to eat dust all Day. Thanks to Mehbooba Mufti and her alliance. He said with fake smile on his face. I just kept staring at him.
Waiting for half an hour, another officer of JK police came to my rescue and permitted my car to take internal route via dialagam, Dooru and verinag to Banihal Tunnel.
Few miles drive was all we could do when another wait of forty minutes was imposed on us near Anantnag chowk. It seemed war like situation… We, all in car were being x rayed by eagle eyed security officials from every angle. Behind our car was a couple with two kids on motorbike which made my heartbeat skip. I felt angrier over man who had three human beings behind without helmet and the kid was holding mummy’s back in a very precarious situation. Security officials with divine powers were halting every one with big stick in hand and mocking face. We decided to mock back but the official made a sign to move forward.
Somehow we reached at verinag crossing and hopefully it was few minutes’ drive from here to tunnel. Local traffic cop stopped us and said “I will only let you through if you have order from Centre. I will not accept police permission”.
I found it very funny and started laughing. My Kashmiri friend from US accompanying me was so frustrated that he started heated argument with traffic cop. Security personnel were laughing at the other side of the crossing. They felt it very entertaining. Perhaps, it was more than that.
Another police officer when approached by me on phone advised to proceed on link road which connects to highway and he can meet us at zig (honestly, I don’t know what Zig is).
Traffic cop was smirking while watched us leaving in defeat. He felt victorious.
Meeting police officer amid huge traffic halt at zig was something beyond our reach. The road was nowhere to be seen due to halted hundreds of vehicles. So, I gave up and asked driver if he can manage to reverse.
We saw yatra vehicles coming from Jammu chanting “jai Sri Ram” and many more slogans. Truck driver standing just close to our vehicle was talking to another driver in a whisper, “they do not seem yatris. Poor people getting free ride, visit and food. At least, they will get chance to pay homage at Cave”. My friend was suggesting visit to Verinag instead of Banihal. My sensibility was chaotic.
We were about to reverse back, I got a call from police officer asking me to move now my vehicle towards Banihal. I was indecisive but my friend became adamant to move towards Banihal despite so much wait, dust and humiliation.
My car somehow crossed tunnel after seven hours of journey where security on duty stopped us again as many yatra buses coming from Jammu were about to cross the other side of the tunnel.
When I objected, I was silenced by the argument that the road is too narrow to accommodate two vehicles at a time until I called another police official who rubbished the argument and permitted us to move.
The scene in Banihal town was more pathetic and heartbreaking where normal tourists from other states of India were advised to wait until 3 pm to cross tunnel. Many families with kids and babies were looking for food, shelter and help. Only locals were giving them smile and hope and something to eat. All of a sudden, the rain started pouring like cats and dogs and everybody rushed to look for shelter. It was very painful to see tourist kids and babies crying and mothers hiding them under their bosom.
I was lost in my childhood memories of Amarnath Yatra in the middle of Banihal town when Yatris and Sadhus would come for pilgrimage to cave. We would wait for them to come to our house. My father would feed them, cloth them and let them rest. In return they would promise us to pray at Cave for the peace and prosperity of Kashmir. This bonding would get rekindle every year and continued until.
Now, “managed yatra” seems to have reduced us to dead souls. We and Yatris have become pawnshops of politicians.
And, only those seem to have chance to survive in this precarious situation who have guts to raise emotions of hate, anger and animosity among humans and religions. How can us, because our religion teaches us to love every human being irrespective of religion, status or region. We cannot change our DNA because of somebody’s divisive politics. We would always open our hearts to Yatris.
The writer is Penguin Author and Ex editor of BBC.
