Recently I went to Kupwara, one of Kashmir's districts. As a frontier area, the region has frequently made headlines. The moment I set foot in the district's territory, I sensed a strangeness in the air; the temperature was too low to bear, and it had been pouring rain all day. Pine trees, mountains, and vast lowlands welcomed me. My eardrums began to be assaulted by various-aged women's cries as I was driving. I was unable to make out who they were yelling at or why they were so upset. I slowed down, but the screaming just grew louder. When I turned to gaze outside, everything appeared normal, even though my ears were about to blow out. Everyone was working hard. Who are they yelling at in my ears? I heard the screams of a woman in her nineties, a girl as young as thirteen, a new-born being thrown to the ground, and a pregnant woman pleading with someone to leave her while she was carrying a child. I overheard her urging the offender to go away. Like your sister, I am. Please let me go, for the sake of God, for the sake of humanity, for the sake of this unborn child, and for the sake of your nation. Don't harm the person who is breathing inside of me. I was helpless and unable to move or act. I made an effort to get out of this horrible sleep, thinking it was a dream. I could hear some ugly beings laughing and making sexual comments about these vulnerable folks while I was haunted by the cries. I detected some sort of clothing tearing in another corner. My hands began to shake as I started to tremble. I started to perspire though because it was raining. I closed my eyes and covered both of my ears with my hands because I couldn't make sense of the scenario, but then someone tapped on my shoulder and whispered into my throbbing ears, "You can't escape reality." "You may be breathing, but your conscience is dead." She said that we are the survivors of a crime that was committed against us by someone who was meant to be guarding us. She placed her hand on my shoulder and said, "You people have deceived us," as she murmured in my ears in a painful tone that we were alive but dead and that everything had been taken from us. I was brought back to reality when someone from behind sounded a loud horn and said, "May Allah protect you on your journey," as she muttered. The Kunan-Poshpora ghosts were those individuals
© handcuffedpoet