I became a refugee in my own land. A 6-year-old boy never imagined his life would completely change in his own paradise. People move from one place to another out of their own will and consent, for a better future. Not like us, who had to flee from land of our ancestors.
Our family, like other Kashmiri Pandits, was living happily in Kashmir with respect and pride, ensuring brotherhood prevailed across all sections of the society. I can say it with pride that my late grandfather and father played a pivotal role in the upliftment of Kashmiris. They were ‘stars’ where we lived because of their various philanthropic acts.
But fate had something else in store for us. One fine day we had to flee, leaving behind everything, to secure our lives after four members of our family were massacred, including my late father and mother.
I can’t forget anything; everything is imprinted and stored in my mind. My grandparents along with my two uncles, aunt and two kids, including me, had no other option but to move out of our place in an Army convoy, leaving behind everything and not knowing where we will we land for our survival.
My grandparents were not even willing to accept that they had to leave their own place where till yesterday everything was normal for them.
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Somehow my uncles and aunt gathered strength and convinced my grandparents to move out of Kashmir, without letting them know about the bloodshed that shook our family a night before.
Finally, we left Kashmir and reached our unplanned destination Jammu. Suddenly, from our home, we found ourselves at a relative’s rented place where we had to perform the rituals for my parents.
When the militancy erupted in early ‘90s, we received many threats and my dad and uncle were asked to leave Kashmir in the interest of their family. Somehow they never agreed to that as they were firm believers of brotherhood and never imagined that anything can ever happen to our family.
However, October 1990 changed everything for us and left a big void in our lives.
Finally, when my grandparents came to know about the tragic episode, both my maternal and paternal grandfathers could not bear the loss of my parents and left us in sometime.
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We were forced to leave everything—our home, our land, our memories of our ancestors and most importantly, our family members who attained martyrdom by sacrificing their lives for the nation. The days in Jammu were horrifying; we could not bear the heat and the pain.
On a personal front, not only did I lose my land and parents, but also my childhood. As a kid, I never played with toys or with friends. I grieved for many years. Thinking about those incidents in Kashmir still gives me goosebumps.
The pain becomes deeper when my grandmother, who suffers from memory loss, at times remembers her children and the tragic events and starts crying, asking for them. I have no answer for her except a hope for justice.
As a true patriot and a proud son of my parents who sacrificed themselves for this country, we deserve everything back with full dignity.
To this date, after 31 years, I still have no answer as to why my dad was shot at 15 times and why my mother was killed point-blank, and I was left all alone to take care of my grandparents.
Amit Kaul left Kashmir in early 90s, both his parents were assassinated during the peak of terrorism. He completed his education from one of the premier institutes in the country. He currently lives in Delhi-NCR and works for a multinational company. The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not represent the stand of this publication.
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