A Boy In The Tragic Secular State

He Was Just Five. He Was Cute. He Was Playful & Naughty Off Course. He Was Living With Maternal Grandpa & His Family In A Small Village Of Jammu In India. His Parents Were Not There,They Were In The National Capital. There Was a Marriage Function Of His Maternal Uncle’s Son or To Be Precise His Grandpa’s Brother’s Son. He Was Taken Along With His Own Maternal Uncle Or Mother’s Brother To Kashmir.

Yes,He Belongs To a culture Where Relationships are Celebrated & Not To The Culture Where Parents are Left Alone In The Old Age Homes.
Marriage Function Was Really Good. He Enjoyed Everything. He Played. He Wandered Here & There. He ate. He Got New Clothes. Everything Was Good. He Dances a Few Times. Many People Kissed Him. He Was Everyone’s Favorite.

The Very Next Morning after The Marriage He Was awaken By Noise Of Crowd In Front Of Their House Shouting “Leave Kashmir,You Kafirs”,” God Is Great”. He Was Trembling With Fear. He Was Crying. No One Was There In The Room. Suddenly ‘ Boom ! ‘. A Bullet Was Fired.

After a Few Minutes Chants Were Slowing Down. In Half an Hour There Was a Deadly Silence. His Own Mama Rushed Into His Room. He Took Him On His Shoulder and Started Running Along With His Grandpa’s Brother. His Grandpa’s Brother The Old Man Was Crying. Nothing Was Left. Everything Was Gone. Everything He Had Earned Or Achieved Suddenly Vanished. He Was Running For Life, Running Away From His Own Home.

The Poor Boy Wasn’t Expected To Saw It,But Unfortunately He Saw It. He Saw The Newly Wed Bride Lying Dead & Naked In The Just Next Room Where He Was Sleeping. Blood Was Pouring Out Of Her Vagina. Her Mehandi Covered Hand Was Lying Few Feet away From Her Body. There Were No Breasts On Her Body. Only Flesh Was There. Just Next To Her Body Was His Grandpa’s Brother’s Son Lying Dead. He Was Shot In The Head. But His Hand Was Tightly Holding another Hand Of His Wife. Blood Was Everywhere.

His Grandpa’s Brother Along With His Mama Came To His Grandpa’s House In Jammu & So His Own Parents. His Grandpa’s Brother,The Old Man Who Had Lost Everything For ‘Azadi’ Of The Invaders Never Uttered a Single Word Thereafter. He Also Died Within Two Months Of His Son’s Marriage. The Poor Boy Was Taken Away By His Parents To Delhi. He Was Crying & His Parents Were Scared.

Now He Was Ten & In School. He & His Friend Mohammad Were The Back Benchers & Surely a Headache For Their Teachers. They Were The Naughtiest & Too Loud For Their Age. One Day In His Tiffin Box He Was Carrying ‘Halwa’ . It was Prasad Or The Offering To God. They Both Tried Too Much But Can’t Finish It. So He Put It In Mohammad’s Tiffin To Eat Later. Next Day Mohammad Didn’t Attend The School. After a Week He Came & Seated Himself In Front Row. Too Far Away From His Hindu Buddy. In Lunch Time He Cried & Told That His Father Had Beaten Him & Warned Him That He Should Not Be Friends With ‘Kafirs’ or Else He Has Too Leave The School. After That Day They Never Talked To Each Other.

The Poor Boy Was Now a Brilliant Student. He Had Given Engineering Entrance Exams & Selected For Interview & Document Submission In His Favorite College. He Was On The Top Of The World. It Was His Dream. He Wanted To Become an Engineer. He Wanted To Redesign The World. A World That Can Host & Cater The Demands Of Both ‘Kafirs’ & Invaders. In The Interview He Was Rejected Although He Had Better Marks. He Was Sitting In The Front Of The Door Of Campus Room, In A Hope That Somehow, Somebody Would Call His Name. His Father Will Collapsed,If He Heard This. What Would Happen To His Life. After a Long Wait a Professor Came Out and Said That He Know That Poor Boy Is Capable & Real Deserving Candidate But Minority Should Be Preferred. It’s Government Policy. The Professor Showed Sympathy But He Wasn’t Able To Do Anything. The Minority Guy Came Out Smiling & He Saw His Face. His Smile Was On Other’s Face.

Now The Poor Boy Was In His Mid Twenties. He Was Working as a Semi Skilled Worker. In Short a Contract Labour. Some Confusion Had Happened at The Workplace. The Engineer Came To Him But Didn’t Spoke a Single Word. This Time The Poor Boy Was Smiling. He Knows That The Engineer Was The One Who Had Snatched His Deserved Place & Don’t Have any Moral Right To Scold The Guy Who Is Better Than Him. You Can’t Get Everything In The Name Of God.

He Was In The Bus. Suddenly Driver Stopped It & Shouted ‘Run Everybody, They’re Going To Burn Us ‘. A Mob Shouting ‘Azadi From Kafirs’ ‘ We’ll Snatch Azadi ‘ & What Not. They Burnt The Bus In The National Capital. They Have Everything & Everyone. They Have Politicians, Actors,Journalists & Intellectuals But The Poor Boy Has Nobody Except His Scared Family.

It Was a Backlash Of Democratically Elected Government’s Decision To Help ‘Kafirs’. The Poor Boy & Huge Number Of ‘Kafirs’ Had Voted For This. The Democratically Elected Government Was Villainous & Vandalism Was Heroic. His Grandpa’s Brother Had Lost Everything But He Never Shouted – Azadi. The Poor Mohammad & He Never Shouted – Azadi. The Professor & He Never Shouted – Azadi . Hundred & Hundred Millions Of Kafirs Who Voted For The Government Never Shouted ” Azadi “.

They Never Shouted Because They Can’t Shout. They Have Only a Single Place Of Land. Their Ancestors are Living Here For at Least Five Thousand Years. Invaders Have already Snatched Some Of It. Where They Would Go ? The Only Option Which Is Left For Them Is The Same That Was Used By Poor Boy’s Grandpa’s Brother. He Never Uttered a Single Word Thereafter & Died.

After all It’s a Secular State Declared In Emergency Period.

34 thoughts on “A Boy In The Tragic Secular State

  1. Very sad story but beautifully written. Thank you for sharing. You have put all your emotions in writing this story. It has touched my heart as it has surely touched the hearts of all your readers.

    Liked by 3 people

  2. So, dear Pankanzy, I come to your blog randomly, in particular wen I feel so dark or low or may be wen I feel bored also, to read something interestingly dark..and I pick some old blogs of yours and there is always something in your content that stays in our mind forever. Your blog page is like that old book self for me packed with very very different I mean entirely so different dark interesting works. Today I read your 2,3 blogs but some f tat was really tough for me to understand (not your prob, issue with ma brain😜) but this one really touched.πŸ€— Stay blessed..keep penning.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Thank You Very Much For Such Love and Support. I Really Like The Fact That You Enjoy These Dark Realities Of Existence. Most Of The People Try To Avoid Them. It Means You Have Real Depth In The Deepest Corners of The Heart. Thank You Very Much, Thank You Very Much Really. It’s Means a Lot To Me. I Don’t Know Why But I Had Lost The Interest In Writing Blogs But Appreciation Like These Energizes Me Spiritually To Go Deeper In To The Darkness Of Reality πŸ™πŸ™πŸ™πŸ™πŸ€—πŸ€—

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I don’t think you write randomly Pankanzy.. .And I won’t ask u how you get such thoughts though that might be the most frequent question that comes to us ur readers mind. I say let the thoughts keep flowing..amazingly deep, nude,raw and plain..You should never try stopping it and definitely do keep penning too.. Dark realities plus your creativity of telling tales is definitely a great read..Best wishes to you. Tc.πŸ˜ŠπŸ˜ŠπŸ‘πŸ‘

    Liked by 1 person

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