Fictitious but Reality by Mudasir Nazar

     I have a story to tell, vague but interesting and concern of my both past as well as present. My ancestors were pious, gentle and without ill-will and because of their ignorance of Darwin’ principle, “big fish eats small fish “and of its recognition as being ‘small fishes’, fell prey to the slavery of aliens. Living in a closely knit society but not self governed, become victim and my grandmother was caught by aliens in war; because her chest was barren, after humiliating her honour, was sold to the Grahak (owner) for a paltry sum of rupees. She was sold in a broad day light but all were sleeping; family members too, except some were awake but their hands were roped. What could have been the atmosphere: pleasant and highly enjoyable not for us but for the aliens and the Grahak of my grandmother. It was the night of mid march, breeze everywhere and they have a party of drinking wine, my grandmother was naked in their hands in a deep slumber. Nobody knows that she and her children will be used as bulls to dig the land, as horses to pull the cart and as donkeys to build the pyramid. This feeling comes only after undergoing such slavery for next several decades.

Her Innocent children without underwear were dragged from clay houses and introduced to their new master, Noor Shah, a man with long moustaches and stick in his hand, fascinating to them because he was after all a man wearing full cloths; an event of climbing sun from the west. Immediately the word from the mouth of children comes out ‘mara hukum kar-rev’ (Sir Order). My grandmother and her children again expected good life but illusory for a short span of time. Now they have to bear the burden, when the reply comes to them, ‘’ if you want to live here, work, but if you want to live life, work hard”. From morning till evening her children were working, spinning, weaving and mostly tilling, without knowing why they were doing all this and for whom? The autumn comes, the Mara Noor Shah, finally ordered them to present their flesh and blood, which has to be deposited and sent to my grandmother’s majesty. Collection started and nobody could escape, even sometimes resulted in anemia and death. Now the material is ready, party had to be started and it started at 9.30 pm, at the majesty’s house, exactly at the time of dinner of children of grandmother. Majesty’s Party opened with music, everybody is enjoying with a plate having different varieties of flesh and wine and by singing, dancing and loudly voicing, party turns into night club festival; but interestingly, my grandmother’s children too had observed similar musical party at that time. Party opened with dinner; red chili powder on their plates with watt (wheat), mouths inevitably opened with sounds phai, phai. One child, Raheem kak unconsciously took lot of chili, he started to beat his head, and music starts which was no less than the music of royal family. This continues till winter, but now situation goes worst. With snow from every side, it was too cold but very worst to children, who were seen in the Siberian forests doing beggar (forced labour). Their footprints were red on white snow, used as donkeys to carry load.  Nobody resisted, fearing that their freedom could be annoyed. Nobody was listening, Alas, it was too cold and even GOD too was sleeping. So my grandmother’s family was left high and dry during chilly winter, while their flesh was sewed in to yarn blankets to be worn by their masters.

 Cruelty went on, summer comes, and the discretion of holy box ignited demonstration. On 13^th July during demonstration fight started, but failed with the funeral of young children. Nobody loosed courage, cruelty led them to continue. Some experienced children were given mandate to publish manifestoes and lead the agitation, to liberate old grandmother at any cost and movement went through different twists and turns but unfortunately my mother was mature for marriage. Nobody could have imaged which happened in the mid night of last week of October, when history repeated itself, at the time of death of  grandmother, my mother too was sold during the night against her wishes, though married yet resisted by her body and children. Some fighting occurred but then peace prevails, because the mediator promised to liberate them from the land, though arbitrary distribution took place yet everybody enjoyed the day. Children were provided with different rights like right to become shepherd etc. very late children recognized that this freedom is myth which has been curtailed through different doses. Unrest started and children again refused to cooperate with their neo-master.

In 89 children prepared to kill their master, and carried knifes on their shoulders. The master reacted first slowly but then harshly, turned my mother’s cloths red, her breasts were tortured by knife….’knife responded with knife’. I was born in 89, the child of violence in the mid of fighting. I was beaten and my brothers killed on the roads. For many years I did not understand anything, except violence. Rebellion went on but slowly I become fed up with violence and decided to remain calm after giving promises that your matter will be solved. However, nothing happened till my leg was sold for religious body but when I resisted, violence started. Again I remain silent but till what time, when I found graveyards of my offspring’s and again conspiracy death of my one child led me to revolt and when the help of my children, I went to stone pelting demonstrations, different from previous knifes fighting. This roar awake my master sitting outside, and promised with me to listen my grievances and fortunately three comrades were sent to meet me. Unfortunately they did not meet my face but my legs, foot, fingers and so on. Still I expected solution to my sufferings. I waited on and on, at last my grievances were shown to the master, ironically in a reversed form and my wounds, sufferings reflected in none of the papers presented to master. Unlike my ancestors, I understood that it is Darwin’s principle and Morgenthau’s dictum, struggle for power, so remained calm from last two years except sometimes I become frustrated and pelt stones over walls. Now my children decided to work hard and engaged with their own. The feeling of defeat is in my heart which led me sometimes to pelt stones over masters.

        Today I am being sold every day and cheated every night, used as bargaining chip, even by my parents and certain things are visible before me. I am now compelled to take a knife over my shoulders again and consequence will be red blood all over my body. But one question always pinches my mind, why my master is unable to recognize my sufferings? To whom I want remedy and safeguard of my rights. Some want to sell me another master. My master did not want to left me but what I want nobody tells but everybody sells me. Why there is such complexity in my career and what will be my future?

Mudasir Nazar is a research scholar at south Asian studies, JNU, New Delhi and can be mailed at:   mnazar00@gmail.com