A Short Story B L Dhar |
hen a son was born to Ashok, he remained undecided a long time about giving him a name. He had come to the city of Chandigarh in unusual circumstances with his wife and father some two years back and had taken up a job as a teacher in a private school. The School management had taken cognizance of his qualification, background and circumstance and paid him well, in fact more than they paid to any other teacher at the school. He got suggestions from his family and friends about names for his son but he did not approve. Back in his mind were the memories of his past, the place and the people that he did not like to give up. He wanted these wounds to remain fresh in his mind so that he was not cut off from his roots. He saw an occasion to remain connected in a soulful manner and surprised his wife and father one day after his return from a visit to the Chandi Mandir, where he used to go every Sunday for prayers that he had decided to call his son Anant Nag. His wife looked approvingly at him and was amused at his decision.
He had fled his home at Anantnag at midnight on the 11th of January 1990 with his newly married young wife and father. He could not have done it without the help of his colleague and friend at the school where he was a teacher for over three years and was held in great esteem by everybody in the neighborhood where he lived. Abdul Aziz managed to get a Tonga that was laden with all his precious belongings, leaving the rest behind that could be taken care of by Abdul until his return, once peace was established everywhere in the valley. There was too much at stake here and the threats he received were too personal to ignore. How could anyone ever think of laying his dirty hands on his pure pearl of a wife Asha. The Tonga deposited them just outside the Khanabal bus depot where a goods truck was waiting for them that would carry them with six other Pandit families, similarly affected, to Jammu. They started the journey at four in the morning and expected to reach Jammu in the afternoon. The journey never ended. Ashok looked out desperately to find a place to settle down as his father’s health did not permit any more shocks after an awful journey by truck that told havoc on the man who had not ventured out of his abode ever in his life. The condition at the refugee shelter was not conducive to a healthy living and there were already instances of death to older people for various reasons. The whole scene was akin to the ethnic cleansing of Jews in Germany except that the concentration camps were replaced by migrant camps receiving dozens of displaced every day. A chance meeting with an old friend at Jammu was the deciding factor to move to Chandigarh where his friend was headed for reasons more personal to him since he had his married sister living over there, but promised to find something for Ashok to restart his life all over again. Being in the business of teaching he looked at the obvious choice and searched for the school that was ready to take him in. He succeeded in his first attempt. Living in a planned city designed by a Swiss Architect, Le Corbusier’s and his team was a joy for Ashok and he was successful in finding a home on a monthly rental that suited his pockets. There was nothing he owned to furnish his two bedroom apartment, but over a period of time he began to fill it up with things that he bought gradually from his meager salary. He dreamed of the day he would be home where he was not obliged to pay rent for his living. With loving care and concern he took notice of his father’s failing health and got some checks done. He had lost the power in his body that he had given all his life in tilling his small tract of land in Anantnag to maintain his family and sold it all after his health had failed him. He was reminded of the care his father had taken of his mother when she was ailing just prior to her death a few years ago. He did not like the idea of his father dying in an alien land, and always prayed that he should perform the last rites of his father in his own home, a wish that his father often repeated. He feared he may not be able to do that but his journey would surely end one day. The journey never seemed to end as Ashok monitored the happenings in the valley with a heavy heart. Instances of unrest and killings were reported from all around the valley and he was not sure there was a chance of normalcy getting restored any time soon. But his quest for giving his family a chance to live a better life gained momentum and he poured all his attention to the job he performed. In time he got a promotion and his teaching capability got noticed in the city and he bagged quite a number of rich students who were in search for private tuitions. He got rewards for his efficiency in obtaining good results for them and had to turn away many more for lack of time. By the time Anant Nag turned three he was blessed with the arrival of his second son. This time though he took no time to give him a name and he proudly called him Veer Nag. When the world nervously entered the 21st century fearing the failure of computers and debating the Y2K problems, he was at hand to teach computing skills to the new entrants in this field of technology. For him money was not a problem anymore. He bought a car to commute all over the town for his tuitions and paying installments for it no longer appeared impossible. With a lot of pleasure the year 2012 brought a new hope to Ashok as he witnessed the return of normalcy in the valley when hordes of tourists landed there bringing cheer to the tourism industry. The only thought that nagged him was the failing health of his father who could not remember his own name at times. It was just on the blessed day of Janamashtami that his father woke up early as usual and after taking his bath and saying his prayers he sat down in the drawing room waiting for his cup of tea that Asha used to bring him. And when she went to hand over the cup, he did not respond. Asha called Ashok as warning signals flashed in her mind and sure enough the old man had already breathed his last. Ashok was distraught and he feverishly called his friends and relatives to give the sad news. He cremated his father at Chandigarh but vowed to immerse the ashes in the town where he belonged. He could at least fulfill his father’s wish in one way. He planned to take the ashes to Anantnag accompanied by his family. He had been away a long time and he looked forward to see his home once again. He parked his car right outside the confluence point of the three streams Arapath, Brengi and Sandran that finally give birth to Veth or the river Jhelum that flows towards Srinagar. The terrain is beautiful, partly paved partly plain with a sprinkling of a few shaded trees. His father often referred to it as the Triveni Sangam of Kashmir. Further down it got merged with the waters flowing from the Lider from where the river became navigable. He immersed the ashes of his father at this spot and it was the 10th day of his passing away. He sat down and said his prayers for the departed soul, joined by his wife and sons who were now 19 and 16. This was their first visit to their father’s homeland and they eagerly looked forward to visit the home where he was born. It was a warm and sunny day and Ashok had arrived at 3 pm starting early from Jammu. He had no idea where he would stay in the town if his home was inaccessible. But he trusted his friend Abdul Aziz and felt sure he would make proper arrangements. With plans of performing the Shrad Ceremony on the 11th and 12th day of his father’s death at the local temple he looked forward to be home again. When he reached the gate of his house he was taken aback at the display of a name plate that read Abdul Aziz. But the house was locked and he could not enter. As he looked around for his friend who lived close by he was escorted by a young boy who called out to his Abba and soon Abdul Aziz appeared at the door of his house. It was quite some time for him to recognize Ashok and when he did he rushed to embrace his friend whom he was seeing after more than twenty years. Where have you been all these years Ashok? You could have at least written a letter to me. I could not do it as I did not know where to reach you. I have been waiting all these years and I was sure you would come one day. The misgivings that had initially bombarded his mind were soon put to rest when Abdul Aziz escorted his friend to his house. He entered and found it neat and tidy with all his assets intact. He looked at Abdul Aziz who was smiling and taking all details of his expression with amusing interest. The explanation of the name plate at the gate indicated that the property was protected and no one ever dared touch it. He visited all the rooms and found everything just as it had been when he had left in a hurry. Aziz informed him that he kept it clean with the help of his wife and they had respected the sentiments of a dear friend who had trusted them. But how could all this be possible when he had heard stories of destruction of Hindu properties all over the valley. He at least expected some amount of damage if not a burning down of the house. Now that the job at hand had been accomplished, Ashok wanted to give his children the feel of the place that would one day be their home as it had been for him and his forefathers. He took the family around town and for the next few days they roamed all over. Many days were spent touring the places of interest in Srinagar, but they made sure they drove back to Anantnag every evening to spend the night in their own home. Asha had started to cook in her own kitchen and in these few days they got so used to the routine that they forgot they have an abode in Chandigarh. It was a rude awakening for them when in the early third week of their stay during a visit to downtown Srinagar while returning from Tulla Mulla they saw an angry protest turn violent at Khanyaar crossing and the firing of some gun shots. This was enough scare for them and they returned without much ado to Anantnag, collected their stuff and headed out to Jammu next morning on their way to Chandigarh. But before they left they visited Abdul Aziz and thanked him for looking after the interest of the family and promised to come again when it was safe for them. The journey, in fact, did not end for them as they thought it perhaps had. |
Shri B.L. Dhar was born and brought up at Srinagar. After completing his Master’s Degree in Mathematics he ventured out of the state and found a job in the Civil Aviation Department joining as a Gazetted Officer. His area of activity was at Delhi and Mumbai International airports. He was selected to undergo training at the school of aviation; Luxembourg under the UNDP program and later posted at the Corporate Headquarters in New Delhi. He had in the meantime joined the newly formed PSU, Airports Authority of India, from where he retired as a General Manager in 2000. He has written innumerable articles about aviation that was published in the house magazine. He is now settled in Delhi and keeps his interest alive in writing..
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Thank you, I at least know now about the origin of the river "veth". Well written story.
Added By PN Raina