A month had passed since the proposal between Ahmed and Aaliya, a month of silent
normalcy that the people of Srinagar had begrudgingly grown accustomed to. Despite the
chaos that surrounded them, Ahmed and Aaliya decided that they couldn't let fear dictate
their lives. They planned to get married, seeking solace and joy in the union that would bind
them together against the backdrop of uncertainty.
The day of their wedding arrived, marked by the simplicity that adversity demanded. Only
close neighbors and a relative who walked 30 kilometers to attend could make it to the
ceremony, as transport was forbidden, and curfew passes were elusive.
As Ahmed and Aaliya exchanged vows, their eyes filled with love and determination, a sense
of hope permeated the makeshift venue. But hope, in Kashmir, was a fragile thing, easily
shattered by the echoes of violence that had become all too familiar.
As the ceremony continued, a distant echo reverberated through the air – gunfire. The
celebratory atmosphere shattered, replaced by a collective gasp of fear that hung heavily in
the air. Panic set in as the wedding was abruptly interrupted, the joyous occasion giving way
to a sinister reality.
Ahmed's heart pounded in his chest as he grabbed Aaliya's hand, their fingers entwined as
they navigated through the chaos. "We have to get out of here, now!" he shouted, his voice
barely audible over the growing tumult.
Together, they ran through the narrow streets, dodging bullets and stumbling over the
remnants of celebration. Fear gripped their hearts as they risked their lives to escape the
sudden eruption of violence. The streets, once witnesses to joy, were now painted with the
stark reality of their plight.
Finally, they found refuge in the quiet sanctuary of a nearby mosque. Exhausted and
breathless, they collapsed into each other's arms, seeking comfort in the midst of the tumult.
The mosque, a symbol of peace, offered a temporary respite from the chaos outside.
As they caught their breath, Ahmed and Aaliya witnessed a heartbreaking scene unfold
before them. A lifeless body lay on the street, an elderly man whose existence had been
violently extinguished. The wails of a five-year-old child and the desperate cries of a ten-year￾old for her father echoed through the air.

"We were just going out to buy some bread," the little girl cried, her innocence shattered by
the senseless violence. The crowd erupted in outrage, people flooding out of their homes to
confront the brutality that had unfolded before them.
In response, tear gas canisters and the deafening shelling of bullets filled the air. The streets,
once again, became a battleground of pain and suffering. Bloodshed stained the pavement,
and the wounded lay scattered, casualties of a conflict that showed no mercy.
Ahmed and Aaliya clung to each other, their hearts heavy with sorrow for the innocent lives
lost. In the midst of the chaos and turmoil, their love became a beacon of strength, a defiant
stand against the darkness that threatened to consume them. As the world outside continued
to crumble, they held onto the belief that love, no matter how fragile, had the power to
endure even the harshest storms.
..................
The morning after the bloodshed was a haunting awakening for Ahmed. Stepping out of his
home, his senses were assaulted by a scene of devastation that chilled him to the bone. The
once vibrant streets of Srinagar now lay eerily silent and desolate, strewn with the remnants
of chaos – lost shoes, torn clothes, and bloodstains that painted a grim tableau of the
violence that had torn through the night.

The memory of the little girl's cries echoed relentlessly in Ahmed's mind, her words a
poignant reminder of the senseless tragedy that had unfolded before his eyes. "We just went
to buy some bread, and my father was shot by the army," her innocent voice rang in his ears,
her tear-stained face etched into his memory. He could still see her, a mere five years old,
playing with stones near her father's lifeless body, her world shattered in an instant.
As Ahmed attempted to gather his thoughts and venture out to buy some milk, he found
himself paralyzed by the weight of grief and despair that hung heavy in the air. Every step he
took felt like a leaden burden, each footfall a painful reminder of the brutality that had
ravaged his homeland. He couldn't shake the image of the blood-soaked streets, the echoes
of gunfire still ringing in his ears as he struggled to comprehend the unfathomable horrors
of war.
With a heavy heart and a mind clouded by anguish, Ahmed retreated back into the safety of
his home, his steps heavy with the weight of sorrow. The once familiar walls now seemed
suffocating, closing in around him as he grappled with the enormity of the tragedy that had
befallen his community. He couldn't escape the sense of helplessness that gnawed at his soul,
the feeling that no matter how hard he tried, he was powerless to change the harsh reality of
their existence.
Days passed in a blur of fear and uncertainty, each moment overshadowed by the specter of
violence that loomed ominously over their lives. And then, in the dead of night, when the
world was shrouded in darkness and silence reigned supreme, came the dreaded knock on
the door at 2:00 am midnight.
Ahmed's heart lurched in his chest as he was jolted awake by the sound, his body tensing
with fear as he listened to the relentless pounding of fists against wood. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he reluctantly rose from his bed, his mind racing with a
thousand terrifying possibilities as he made his way to the door.
As he swung the door open, a wave of dread washed over him, his breath catching in his
throat as he came face to face with the ominous figures of the army standing before him.
Their presence was a menacing reminder of the ever-present threat that lurked just beyond
their doorstep, a constant reminder of the fragile peace they clung to.
With a sense of resignation, Ahmed watched helplessly as they unceremoniously barged into
his home, their intrusion a violation of their privacy and dignity. He could feel the rush of
blood pounding in his ears as they began their relentless interrogation, their questions
probing and invasive, tearing at the frayed edges of his sanity.
Hours stretched into eternity as they grilled him, his father, and Aaliya mercilessly, their
scrutiny unyielding as they searched for answers to questions they dared not speak aloud.
The weight of their presence bore down on Ahmed like a suffocating blanket, his thoughts
consumed by a sense of impending doom as he struggled to maintain his composure in the
face of their relentless scrutiny.
By the time the first light of dawn began to filter through the windows, the army finally
departed, leaving behind a trail of fear and uncertainty in their wake. As the door clicked
shut behind them, Ahmed felt a shiver run down his spine, his body trembling with a
mixture of relief and dread as he collapsed into a chair, his mind reeling from the ordeal they
had just endured.
And then, in the early hours of the morning, tragedy struck once more, shattering the fragile
peace of the village like glass. The news spread like wildfire, tearing through the close-knit
community with devastating speed – Mrs. Khan's husband, Mr. Dilawar Khan, was dead.
He had been taken away by the army just like so many others before him, his disappearance
shrouded in mystery and fear. And now, the rumors whispered through the village streets
painted a grim picture – Mr. Dilawar Khan, once a respected member of the community,
had been branded a terrorist and shot dead in custody.
The injustice of it all was staggering, a cruel twist of fate that left Ahmed reeling with
disbelief and anger. How could they justify the murder of an innocent man, a loving
husband and father torn away from his family without warning or reason?
In the midst of the chaos and confusion, Ahmed found himself drawn to Mrs. Khan's side,
his heart heavy with sorrow as he witnessed her grief-stricken face. She had been a pillar of
strength in the face of adversity, her unwavering courage an inspiration to all who knew her.
But now, as she stood before him, her eyes filled with tears and her voice choked with
emotion, Ahmed felt a surge of compassion wash over him. He reached out to her, offering
whatever comfort he could in the face of such overwhelming loss.
And as they stood together in the cold light of dawn, their hearts heavy with sorrow, Mrs.
Khan's anguished cries echoed through the stillness of the morning. She wept for the
husband she had lost, for the children he had left behind, and for the injustice that had
robbed them of their future together.

------
"Ahmed," Mrs. Khan's voice trembled with emotion, her words choked with tears as she
spoke. "He was taken from us without warning, without reason. And now they say he was a
terrorist, but he was no such thing. He was a good man, a loving husband and father."
Ahmed could only nod in silent agreement, his own throat tight with the grief that
threatened to overwhelm him. He had known Mr. Dilawar Khan, had seen the kindness and
generosity in his eyes, and now, to see him branded as a terrorist and shot dead in custody, it
was almost too much to bear.
Mrs. Khan's sobs filled the air, a mournful lament for the husband she had lost and the three
daughters he had left behind. "What will become of us, Ahmed?" she cried, her voice
breaking with sorrow. "How will we go on without him? Who will provide for our girls,
who will protect them from the cruelty of this world?"
Ahmed wrapped his arms around her, offering whatever comfort he could in the face of such
overwhelming loss. "We will find a way, Mrs. Khan," he whispered, his voice thick with
emotion. "We will stand together, as a community, and we will support each other through
this dark time. You are not alone in your grief, we are all here for you, for your daughters."
And as they stood together in the cold light of dawn, their hearts heavy with sorrow, Ahmed
made a silent vow to Mrs. Khan and her daughters. He would do whatever it took to help them rebuild their shattered lives, to ensure that Mr. Dilawar Khan's memory lived on in the
hearts of those who loved him. And together, they would face the uncertain future that lay
ahead, one step at a time.
It was a heartbreaking sight, a poignant reminder of the human cost of the army's actions in
Kashmir. And as Ahmed looked into Mrs. Khan's tear-streaked face, he knew that her cries
would haunt him for the rest of his days, a constant reminder of the injustice that had torn
their lives apart.

(To be continued......)

© Inaya


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