Jan 21, 1990: When many Kashmiris left their Saltanats behind

Gaw Kadal Massacre

Zahir u Din

(from greaterkashmir.com)

Srinagar, Jan 20: The day he received the order confirming his appointment as driver in the Cable Car Corporation (CCC), he promised his daughter a joyride in the highest Gandola of the world at Gulmarg. He could not keep his promise. He fell to CRPF bullets at Gaw Kadal on January 21, 1990. The kid, now a grown up girl, has eyes on the stars. Pursuing a career in computers, the brave daughter of a brave father plans to give a good life to her mother.

Saltanat Farooq was preparing to see fourth spring of her life when orphaned. I was greeted with the smell of kerosene when I entered her house at Court Road, a few weeks after her brave father Farooq Ahmad received several bullets on his chest. The stove was not running properly and Sultanat’s mother was trying her best to set it right. The fumes emanating from the burner gave her an excuse to moisten her eyes. I found it extremely difficult to start the conversation. Realizing she might be confused and surprised to see a total stranger in her room, I introduced myself. “Your husband was driver of my elder brother who is an officer in the CCC and has sent me to know about your welfare.” She heaved a sigh of relief.

That was the first day I saw Saltanat Farooq. Totally unaware of what had befallen her family, she talked and talked much to the delight of her aggrieved mother. Saltant knew Johny had taken sugar and his Papa had taken him to task for that. She was aware that the Black Sheep had a bag of wool for the dame who lived down the lane. She also knew that Jack had gone up the hill with Jill. But she was not aware of a harsh reality. “Papa Allah Kay Pas Gaya Hai (Papa has gone to Allah’s house).” Farooq died along with 51 others on January 21, 1990 when CRPF personnel opened fire on a peaceful procession at Gaw Kadal here. The processionists were marching towards Chotta Bazaar area where the troops had committed atrocities and molested many women during a search operation.

I could not muster courage to ask Saltanat when will he return. The conversation had reached a delicate stage. The orphan had hit the nail on its head, the widow was about to collapse and I, who had visited them to play saviour, felt like a withered autumn leaf. I stood up to leave. The widow had prepared tea for me. The tea had a soothing effect. I felt resurrected. Hats off to the brave people of Kashmir. In spite of being victims, they can soothe the so-called saviours.
Meanwhile, the widow was appointed in the corporation and the harsh realities of life started dawning on Saltanat. Last year, I received a call from my brother. He urged me to help Saltanat get admission in a reputed computer institute.

Saltanat now has the world at her fingertips. I forgot to ask her if she had a ride on the highest Gandola of the world.

Copyright and courtesy of Greater Kashmir. com [link]
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