My Exodus (Part 2)

Before I get continue with the second part of the story of my exodus, I wanted to highlight a couple of things. It was 1990 and there were no ATMs, no centralized banking systems, no internet banking, no mobile phones, no telephones, only rich could afford A/Cs and refrigerators!

As we crossed Banihal, my dad was relieved. We only managed to eat something when we had crossed the tunnel. I for the first time in my life had traveled so far.

We reached Jammu and rented a place at the outskirts of the town. Within a week, my mom needed to be shifted to the hospital and my sister was born. When the nurse asked for some "soft" cloth to wrap the baby, we were unprepared. My father immediately took out his under-shirt and gave it to the nurse.

I need to point out here that we had come completely unprepared - a bag of clothes for each person may be. Given that my grandmother was outside Kashmir for the first time, she had packed her clothes according to the harsh winters of Kashmir, however the climate of Jammu is generally more moderate. To put it straight, her clothes were too warm for Jammu winter.

Cash draining out quickly (remember there were no ATMs and centralized banking systems) and there were lot that needed to be done. My mother's medical expenses, my school admission, and we had these regular family, family friends, family of family friends, in-fact anyone who was a Kashmiri Hindu visiting us as they often had no where to go.

My dad many years later told me that he had Rs 500 in his pocket when he left Kashmir, and the day my mother was brought home after my sister's birth, only Rs 50 were left. My grand-mother told my father to get some vegetables, mutton, and grocery for home. My dad says as he left home, he lost Rs 40 somewhere and was only left with Rs 10 in change. That was all the cash we had. One of my father's friends worked in State Bank in Jammu. Father remembered him immediately and went to him for help. Uncle, still remains one of the coolest chaps around, was not only ready to help but scolded my father for not coming to him earlier.

Meanwhile, one of my cousin uncles visited from valley with importantly news of my grand father's well being and some cash! We managed to start construction of our house (please note not home - home was/is/and will be in Kashmir) and I was admitted in a nearby school (it wasn't a school you really want your kids to start their education with. The classes were under the sun and one teacher teaching many classes together. But then it was in better condition than a camp school).

Our limited resources meant that my father and grandmother had to help in the construction in-order to reduce the drain due to additional laborers. My father and grand-ma (who was 52) would leave early in the morning and work hard, helping with bricks, leveling the floors, watering the walls and come back late.

Our relation with our landlord also wasn't in good terms. To be honest, he was crook! Looking for ways and means to get an extra penny. So finally we had to move in our under-construction/without the flooring house. The wood to be used for the doors was put on bricks and a make-shift bed was created for my mother. For us, me, my grandmother, aunt, and my father, we used to sleep on the floor (well there was no floor).

We often had relatives and friends staying over with us for weeks, some helping us with the construction, some figuring out places to stay, some come to buy land, some looking out for their relatives. It was a complete chaos!

In the evening, my grand ma would often sit outside and often tell me that it was just time and we would return back to Kashmir. All those initial years, she was never ready to accept that she would never be able to go back to Badrakali , Chandigam, and Tikker

Meanwhile in Kashmir, my grandfather had found out about our leaving when he had sent a servant over to Srinagar to deliver some stuff at our rented place. The servant had come back and told him that we had left. In May 1990, one of my grandfather's cousin was murdered in broad day-light. The body was cremated and rituals performed with utmost secrecy. Grand father, when he came to Jammu, had many stories to tell. He told that he found out that he was on the "hit-list". For many days, he would lock the HOME from outside, get in from the window at the back-side and sleep on the first floor. He had even made arrangements so that he could safely jump from the first floor window in-case the HOME was put on fire.

My grandfather left, handing over the keys of our HOME to the most trusted friend and neighbor. Years later, when someone from Kashmir visited us, he told us that the "trusted" neighbor had taken the things out of our Home for his personal use, sold our cattle and other belongings. In 1991-92, my only HOME was burnt!

Later post 1996, KMs started visiting us in Jammu. Some honestly coming to check regarding our well-being and some came to persuade us to sell our property. All were welcomed with open arms. I have some cry, some beg for forgiveness, and some silent on our exodus.

P.S. In 2010, my grandfather's elder brother (the eldest member of our family) expired with only one wish - He wanted his ashes be spread over our fields and in the village stream. He had died living the dream to return back.

I hope I am fortunate enough!