My God, what is this obsession of kashmiri waze' (chef) with No Ras' Policy..(No Gravy policy).

How can one eat rice without the tari (gravy). If the wazwan was supposed to be taken home, then why not just give it in a packed box.

It's so embarrassing to ask them again and again, "Wasta, ras fuoeera travzi".

panin khayalat kariv share.

##SLAVERY IS SUCH AN EVIL WHERE NO DISCRIMINATION IS MADE BETWEEN CHILDREN, YOUNG AND OLD: MAQBOOL BHAT/ WANDE MAGZINE

What is little known and debated in Kashmir is what Maqbool thought, his ideas and inspirations, his vision for the future of Kashmir. Wande Magazine reproduces below a letter from Maqbool Bhat to the daughter of G.M Mir, a former president of National Liberation Front (NLF), a pro-Independence political organization formed in Pakistan administered Kashmir in 1960s. The letter, illuminating at many places, is political education from an imprisoned man whose mind and spirit remained free, while his body was in chains. The letter is a political commentary on slavery and what it does to a people. Maqbool Bhat’s reference point for his political vision can be gleaned from this letter to be a life of dignity, a life without fear and subjugation for the people of Jammu and Kashmir.

To Azra Mir (daughter of G.M. Mir, the former president of National Liberation Front), from Camp Prison, Lahore Pakistan, dated 2nd April, 1973

In the name of ALLAH, Most gracious, Most merciful

Dear Azra,

May God always protect you

Assalam u Alaikum.

Your younger sister Rubina visited me on 26th March with your auntie (Maqbool Bhat's wife) and gave me your letter. As we were transferred from Kamel Pur Prison to Camp Prison Lahore, it took me a little longer to write back to you. Although we were imprisoned here on a previous occasion but still the change caused various problems which kept me from writing to you earlier. Having read your views, I cannot explain in words how admirable and esteemed they were. Your letter shows that God has gifted you with the wealth of sensitivity at this young age. This is a great gift. After reading your letter, I could not help thinking how sensitive you are and how much you are alert about the difficulty we are currently going through. I pray to God that he increases your power of imagination and understanding and enrich the strength of feelings you have about our enslaved nation. May Allah enable you to become a daughter of Kashmir we could take pride in?

Dear Azra, I am aware that the problems we are experiencing have hurt you. I know that you have directly felt the pain and torture of imprisonment we experienced because your father (Ghulam Mohammed Mir) was with us during the stormy period. Your father's imprisonment brought the innocent faces of you and Rubina before my eyes, like two flower buds. I did fear that the wave of torture and oppression brought upon us may depress you two. I remember the days when you and Rubina used to play with Papu (Javed Maqbool Bhat) and Kaku (Shaukat Maqbool Bhat) in the pleasant environment of Abbottabad, unaware about all the issues around you. Who else can bear the sight of tears in the beautiful eyes of innocent children like you, but those heartless enemies of our movement? The helplessness you felt out there kept us restless here inside the prison walls. But we faced every form of torture with the belief that this (new) challenge we are facing may temporarily deprive you of the love and affection you need but it will ultimately bring revolution to your thinking. That is exactly what has happened. Your letter has strengthened this belief of mine. Now, let me explain to you how oppression affects the children of those who fight against it as opposed to those who are the oppressors. The children of the oppressors see the oppression around them but remain indifferent, whereas the children of Mujahids (freedom fighters) do not tolerate oppression. They feel the pain and wish to fight against oppression. The children of oppressors are provided with all the luxuries and comfort of the world, they have plenty to eat, (wear) expensive clothes and live in luxury houses but the children of Mujahids are not attracted to these kinds of luxuries and comfort. They get satisfaction from struggling against the system of oppression.

That gratification and satisfaction cannot be experienced with worldly wealth, expensive clothes or luxurious houses. That is why Mujahedeen children prefer a day of freedom to a life of luxuries without any freedom.

My dear child, the children of all the enslaved nations in the world not only have to suffer the oppression and suppression by tyrants, but also have to fight shoulder to shoulder, with their elders for freedom (from tyranny). Slavery is such an evil where no discrimination is made between children, young and old. In slavery (situations) children are also affected by the torture and misery endured by their elders. I will tell you a few incidents from history, which spells out the hardship some children in our country had to suffer because of forced subjugation.

It was around 1945 or 1946 when I was 8 or 9 years old. At that time the Dogras ruled Kashmir, and the whole of Kashmiri nation was living under conditions of slavery. One of the cruel forms of slavery is the feudal system. In this system the ruler or the king distributes land amongst his loyalists, who in turn become an instrument in carrying out the oppressive measure against ordinary people for the ruler. It is this service which is awarded by the rulers through land distribution. These lands or fields are called Jagirs.

The Jagirdars, the owners, do not offer any labour or till the fields. The work of tilling, seeding, growing the crops is done by the local peasants. All a Jagirdar does is to appear at the harvest time and take all the produce leaving a minute quantity for the peasants to live on. This Jagirdari system existed in our country during the Dogra rule too. The poor peasants had to do all the hard work but the landowner would take all the produce. The landowner in our area was called Divan, whom we had seldom seen. There were his agents called kardaar, whose job it was to collect grain and fruits etc once produced by the farmers. The year I am talking about had poor crops due to bad weather. This left the farming families with very little to give to the Divan. Having given away all the produce it did not mount up to the usual season's quantity, which brought the whole area under the wrath of his agents. They started a series of crackdowns on the houses and stores of the poor peasants and many were whipped. When it did not produce results the Divan himself came to our village in a motorcade. This was the first time ever a motorcade came to our village. We were all amazed to see it. All the farmers in our village got together and pleaded before him for concession. They told him in detail the reasons for the low harvest but he did not believe them. He insisted upon having his usual share of the crops even if it meant that the children of the peasants had to starve to death. He also expressed his anger towards his agents and strictly instructed them to extract the full share. These agents knew very well that the peasants were left with nothing to be given to the Divan. But they had no courage to argue with their master. As the Jagirdar went to his car after giving instructions – all the children of the village were told to lie down on the road in front of the car by their elders. The kardaar was also part of this plan. Hundreds of village children lied down in front of the Jagirdar's car and pleaded for concession and to write off the extra share or drive over them. I was one of those children and remember to this day the fear and chaos that ruled us. Everyone, young and old was in tears. They knew that if Jagirdar left without giving concessions their lives would be made hell. Eventually, the Jagirdar agreed to some amendments to his final decision.

This is just one incident that can give you some idea of the miserable conditions we the children of the poor Kashmiri peasants suffered during that period of slavery. Majority of our people were and still are peasants who suffer similar situations all around. They were forced to leave the country in search for work in the plains of Pakistan and India mainly in Punjab where they were referred to as Hattoos (luggage carriers). They used to work there for six months in a year and make small money to support their children and families. The other manual artisans and small vendors were also forced to leave their homes for various towns and cities across the subcontinent to sell their products. While they were away, their children longed for the love and affection of their fathers. When this reality of slavery was realized by our nation (people), it was clearly thought that the only way to emancipate from the exploitation of the feudal system and to live an honourable life is to fight for freedom.

The fight initially began in 1931. In this fight there were two camps. In the one camp were the subjugated and wretched peoples of Kashmir and in the other were the rulers and their puppet officials, feudal lords and capitalists. The first phase of this battle was concluded in 1947. Scores of poor children had to sacrifice their parents and families who were killed in this battle. Thousands of young girls like yourself had to live away from their fathers who were locked up behind the bars by those who defended slavery and exploitation.

Then came the ugly year of 1947. During these stormy periods the situation took such a turn that we entered from one phase of slavery to another. Dogra-rule came to an end but in the process our country was divided. One part went under occupation of Indian army while the other though called Azad (free) has none of the features of a free place. During this chaos hundreds of thousands of old and young as well as children were martyred. The blood of those unaccountable children along with the older members of our nation flows into the plains of Jammu and Valley, in the hills of Poonch, Muzaffarabad and in the mountains of Mirpur and of Kargil and Ladakh. No monuments of these children can be found but these anonymous martyrs are the pride of our nation. To be able to tell all the stories of these young martyred boys and girls of our freedom struggle it requires a complete book. Here I want to tell you only one fact that the invaders murdered countless children similar to those merciless hunters who kill the sprinkling sparrows on trees during spring. Some of these children were killed with spears and swords by the communalists intoxicated with the influence of sectarianism as herds of sheep are torn apart by the bloodthirsty wolves.

My dear child, 1947 was not the end of that era of sacrifices by the children of our nation. It is continuing even today and may (well) continue till the whole nation is liberated. Our people are continuously making sacrifices both in the occupied Kashmir (IOK) as well as in Azad Kashmir (POK). On both sides children are growing under the horrifying shadows of slavery. Countless Kashmiri children have become orphans (without any one to care for them) because the destruction and killings inflicted upon us by the enemies of our freedom. Consequently they have been deprived of the essential provisions for the (good) growth and upbringing of children. The details of these past events are too long to be told here. Recently, two young boys were killed in London. They too were the flowers of our nations. Basharat and Hanif of Mirpur who sacrificed their youthful lives not only remind us of our history and tradition but also set an example for the future. Every child of our nation should be proud on them.

Dear Azra, I have written all that to clarify what agony children of slave nations have to go through. It is also important that you know these details because you have a great passion for the freedom of our country, which is obvious from your quoting the couplet in your letter, which states [Kudda Ney Aaj Takk Uss Qaoum Ki Haalat Nahin Badlee Naa Ho Jiss Ko Khayal Aap Appni Hallat Kay Badal Ney Ka] God may never help any nation which does not realize its own slavery. Also, your determination is praiseworthy because you have expressed in your letter "We will not refrain from giving the last drop of our blood for the freedom, sovereignty and prosperity of our beloved Kashmir." I am greatly impressed by this passion in you. May Allah keep you on the right path, enhance your mind and fulfil your aspirations.

Now let me comment on some of your other views, which you have described in your letter. You say that you know the details of difficulties and oppression we went through, which makes one’s heart sink but there are such stone-hearted and ignorant people who enjoy and make fun of such stories. We must remember that only those people feel the pain in stories of repression that have themselves suffered or fought against it. The hard-hearted people or those who have not suffered would not understand such stories. They neither enjoy nor are saddened. However, there is a class of people who take pleasure in such stories. This is the (class of) repressors. If people laugh at the torture and oppression we suffered for the freedom of our country then you must remember they are the enemy of freedom of whole Kashmiri nation. They are the supporters of repression and enemy of justice and (equal) rights. Such people never last long and usually face humiliation within their lifetime. The righteous people always rise victorious with truth and justice. At the end such people look at themselves and are shamed.

You have also written that Kashmiris have sacrificed their lives for Pakistan but Pakistan brands them as 'agents'. Here, your views are slightly misplaced. It is not Pakistan that accuses Kashmiris of spying but the ruling traitors of this country. It is the same bunch of rulers who have denied the people of this country freedom and democracy and eventually disintegrated it. Indeed, the role these bunches of traitors have played has been far worse than traitors. That is why they brand all patriotic (Kashmiris) and friends of (our) people as foreign agents or spies. These rulers, who committed crimes against their own people and called authentic leaders as 'agents', accuse us (Kashmiris) of spying but we should not get angry. As for the actual Pakistan, the people of this country are concerned; they will accept the truth when it is brought before them. The sufferings given to us is not the (work of) real Pakistanis. The cruel (men) of ruling (class) who open fire on their own people are responsible for our sufferings. Obviously the rulers who declared war against their own peoples cannot offer anything to anyone else but injustice. Pakistani ruling class never ever supported Kashmiris in their fight for freedom, as they should have done. Indeed this class has no interest in the freedom of Kashmir. Whatever they say is merely a lip service and must not be trusted. However the peoples of Pakistan are our true supporters and friends. We will certainly have their support. The (ordinary) people of Pakistan have sincerity as well as sympathy for us. Whenever Kashmiris move forward, the people of Pakistan will support them. You are right that by branding Kashmiri freedom fighters as 'agents' these rulers have actually served India. Perhaps it is the result of this hypocrisy (double policy) that they (Pakistani rulers) are faced with a humiliation at the end.

You (say that you) are happy about our determination to stand up for (our) right(s) and did not give up on the just cause during these challenges. This has only been possible with God's blessings who kept us on the right path though out. Please pray to the almighty Allah that we stay on the right path in the future. Only then the National Liberation Front (NLF), Inshallah, will achieve bigger and greater successes. The suggestion that 'Kashmiris have been brought to the point of neither here nor there' is a mistake. We were the true sons of the soil; we are and will remain so. The passion (flame) for freedom we possess will remain in us forever. We will confront any force on earth that may come in our way to achieve our freedom.

As you have rightly pointed out, the blood Kashmiris have given for the freedom of our country will never be wasted. The blood of (our) martyrs brings the goal for freedom nearer. You are quite right that those who fight for the right and just cause have to go through tests and trials. Yes that is what makes them so noble - as they face all such challenges patiently and with courage. The prayer, which rises from the bottom of your innocent heart, will surely be answered by the God almighty, as it is his promise to mankind that no power on earth can fail them as long as they are on the right path. Rubina and Papu told me about you are in good health and that you are paying proper attention to your education. You (may) know that the real power and wealth human beings may possess is the knowledge they acquire. This wealth can neither be stolen nor spent. Without 'knowledge' human beings are mere animals. That is why I hope that you will give even more attention to your studies. Give my regards to your Ammi Jaan and lots of love to daughter Rubina.

Yours loving uncle,

Muhammad Maqbool Bhat

Camp Prison Lahore, Pakistan

So, most of my friends are married and some of them even have children (plural). I (Mid thirty, Male) am doing well career wise and am financially quite stable, but Still the idea of marriage gives me chills. I kinda want to get settled and then this cacophony inside the brain keeps on bothering me about all these "What if this, what if that" questions.

How do you navigate this conversation?

I want to Discuss it to my folks, but ,in Kashmir, nerds are not well understood. I am not able to hold conversations longer than 5 minutes, because all their arguments are based on clichés' like "Khandur chu karun zaroori", Sarvi koer khander (all your friends are married already), pate' bani ne kinh (you won't find anyone later). And on top of that they bring in the religion.

Well, they can't win the religious debate with me, but some of the other arguments do actually force me to think deeply about it.

TLDR; Mid thirty guy (Geek, nerd) confused about whether to get married or not?? stuck in constant analysis, paralysis.

Kashmir is facing a massive plastic pollution problem. It’s everywhere—on roads, in rivers, water streams, and even impacting our health. How do we fix this?

I don’t live in Kashmir, but I make sure to visit at least once a year. Unfortunately, each year, I see more and more plastic littering the beautiful landscape. Over the past few years, I’ve spent time visiting different offices, trying to wake up the administration to address this issue. However, it’s clear that they don’t view it as a serious problem and aren’t taking meaningful action.

What worries me more is the lack of civic sense among people. How do we make our community understand that public places shouldn’t be treated as garbage bins? I’ve seen individuals dropping empty water bottles, wrappers, and cigarette packets right where they stand.

Currently, I’m remotely trying to get a response from the CM’s office, but I haven’t received any reply yet.

I’d love to hear your thoughts, suggestions, or any success stories about tackling plastic pollution. How can we raise awareness, encourage behavior change, and push for real solutions in Kashmir?

I don't remember it being this bad last year

Assalamualaikum dear community members,

I’m building a website to promote Kashmiri culture through unique apparel like embroidered kimonos, aiming to share our rich traditions and artistry with a global audience. The site will also feature blogs to amplify our voices and share our stories with the world.

I’d love to work with Kashmiri artists who can create detailed hand-drawn illustrations inspired by our heritage. Rather than hiring from outside, I want to collaborate with talented individuals from within our community to celebrate and support local artistry.

If you’re an artist or know someone who fits this vision, please text me or drop a comment below. Let’s bring Kashmiri culture to life together! ❤️

like...we literally have videos.🤡

I’m visiting from Bombay, staying in Srinagar, and want to buy my Nani a nice, high quality pashmina shawl that won’t break the bank.

Anyone have any good recommendations for places I should check out?

##THE HIJACK AND TRIAL/THE LIFE AND TIMES OF MAQBOOL BHAT (PART TWO) BY WANDE TEAM/WANDE MAGZINE

Before the verdict was to be delivered, the Judge gave Maqbool Bhat a chance to speak for himself and he spoke thus:

“Call it a coincidence or tyranny of the conditions, I have to stand today in this special court under a special order to defend the charges which are baseless and false. More appropriately these charges are the creation of a mind that is enemy of the freedom of my country and a cruel joke with the people of Jammu and Kashmir who are fighting for liberation. History has given the verdict against those conditions and self-acclaimed rulers of Pakistan who have made me stand in this witness box. This verdict of history is so clear that no further explanation is needed. It has drawn a clear line between us and our hypocrite opponents. I take this proceeding as a compliment for myself and my comrades as future generations will have no confusion about our identity.

Thus this verse from the Quran has proven true about this group of hypocrites: “وَإِذَا لَقُواْ الَّذِينَ ءَامَنُواْ قَالُوا ءَامَنَّا وَإِذَا خَلَوْاْ إِلَى شَيَـطِينِهِمْ قَالُواْ إِنَّا مَعَكُمْ إِنَّمَا نَحْنُ مُسْتَهْزِءُونَ (And when they meet those who believe, they say, “We believe”; but when they are alone with their evil ones, they say, “Indeed, we are with you; we were only mockers.”)”.

By the crime this group is committing against the oppressed people, it was inevitable that they should trap themselves in a situation where they are unable to escape.

I have neither prepared any conspiracy nor been a part of any such group. My role is clear all the way through. However, it is true that I have rebelled against obscurantism, slavery, capitalism, exploitation, corruption, cruelty, and hypocrisy. If the ruling class of Pakistan, which is a product of the imperialist system and is represented by the civil and military bureaucracy, call it a conspiracy then I have no hesitation to accept it. I am then ready to accept all your charges.

For me, this case against us is not unusual at all. Through human history whenever exploitation and slavery are challenged the ruling classes have always relied on the word ‘conspiracy’. But history also is witness to the fact that in this battle between truth and falsehood, it is we, the oppressed, who have always emerged victorious. It is we, the people, who demolish these edifices of oppression. I loath self-praise but now when my role is being distorted, deliberately, I am forced to claim that at every stage of my life, I have not only supported the peoples struggle against exploitation and oppression but always actively participated in it.

I have consciously chosen this role for myself because I see it as Sunnah of Prophets and as a way of revolutionaries. I have no doubt about the success of this role and the welfare it brings for the people. I can not refrain from bringing this fact in the notice of this court that apparently only six persons are made involved, but the actual motive of this case is to crush our liberation movement.

Pakistani bureaucracy should know that no matter what turns our fate takes as a result of this case, they will achieve nothing but disgrace and failure, as far as their actual motive is concerned. If the struggle for freedom was to be stopped by the court rulings there would have been hardly any free nation on earth today. If the evolution of civilization, democracy, and freedom was to be prevented by the existing judicial or administrative system no revolution would have taken place from the beginning of history.

You have no jurisdiction to give any judgments, its only history that judges the revolutionaries. For the courts themselves are the product of the system that these movements are aimed to change.

It is for this reason that in some cases verdict given by these courts as present are proven meaningless. It is not possible here to give details of all those conspiracies made against my country and my people. However, it is imperative to highlight those aspects of these conspiracies that are exploited to construct this case.

This is not done by the unmistakable enemies of our people but by the imprudent and wicked ‘friends’ who have despicably occupied the power in this unfortunate country and have subjugated not only a hundred million of her own people but also put its existence at stake by their malicious actions for keeping power in their hands. It is obvious that leadership which has no sympathy for its own people cannot be hoped that it will extend any friendship to a nation which is still fighting against foreign occupation.

No one can stop me from claiming that every ruling power in Pakistan has exploited the Kashmir issue for the last 25 years. For its lust for power, it has abused this issue to mislead the people of Pakistan, who have and still do support the freedom of Kashmir. When the power came into the hands of military dictatorship this conspiracy has become even more dreadful. Division of Pakistan is only a logical result of this conspiracy.

It is said that conflict was started from the day NLF was formed; between our struggle and the bureaucracy and military dictatorship of this country. The roots of this conflict are in the disagreement on aims and strategy. Military rulers of this country never liked our concept of armed struggle. Not only did they not like it, they always tried to crush any such struggle.

The story of such conspicuous incidents is too long to cover here in detail, but before it never came to a stage where they would brand us as enemies of this country. The time chosen now by the military dictators to declare us the enemy of the country was when they were giving the final touches to their own conspiracy.

It was the last week of February 1971. In the President’s house in Rawalpindi, the dictators were planning to prevent the transfer of power to the elected members of 130 million people. From its formation to 24 February 1971, no faction of rulers ever suspected it or its activities, including Ganga Hijacking. However, as part of their conspiracy, the rulers decided to use NLF and Ganga hijacking on false grounds to justify their anti-people and anti-democracy designs.

The initial instructions were issued from the President’s House in Rawalpindi. Inter-Services Intelligence Bureau (ISI) was ordered to investigate the hijacking case and keep the freedom fighters away from the public and press. They should be transferred to a distant location, they were told. Responding to our inquiry we were told that the country is in a crisis. To solve the conflict with Mujeebu’r- Rehman on constitutional matters we need the nation to remain calm on Kashmir issue, they said.

We were also told that Sheikh Mujeeb stands for friendly relations with India and does not like to promote any confrontation, so they did not want political crisis of Pakistan to be exacerbated. We co-operated and agreed on freedom fighters’ transfer to Tanda Dam, in district Kohat. Only a few days later the proposed meeting of national assembly was postponed. Hence, the crisis was intensified. What happened in East Pakistan after the declaration of a former military dictator was pre-planned. Sheikh Mujeeb was invited for negotiations with the President in Rawalpindi. When he refused, another declaration was released in March 71 from President’s House that President was going to Dhaka for negotiations. Just one day before, Yahya Khan’s departure for Dhaka, it was announced by the foreign office that hijacking case will be investigated. Replying to our explanation we were told that this is to decrease the bitterness during Yahya — Mujeeb negotiations where it is inevitable that Mujeeb, who has already demanded an inquiry into hijacking, will raise this issue.

We were also told that international pressure on Pakistan is also increasing and to prove that Pakistan is not involved in the hijacking they needed to take such measures. We were assured that if necessary, a commission will be formed but it is likely that this stage will not come. The commission was appointed as Yahya -Mujeeb negotiations entered into concluding stage. The impression was given that the commission is nothing more than an eye-wash. Actual motives were to come out only on 27 March 1971 when a military operation was started in East Pakistan.

Only two days later, this commission started its proceedings as well. Among the three members of the commission, two were from the intelligence department and the third Mr. Rahat Chhattari was the one whose services were terminated from by the first elected government of this country under the allegation of corruption. This chain of events shows that this case had a special motive, which can be nothing but the need for a justification for an emergency situation to be created in the country by the military dictators. The report compiled by the commission according to the wishes of the rulers has fulfilled this need. We were arrested on 14 April, six days before the report was presented to the President.

And to crush our struggle mass arrests were made, memories of which are terrifying. But these rulers who were overwhelmed by the lust of power could not understand that lies are bound to be defeated. The law of nature did not take long to give its verdict. The rulers reached their logical end before making us their scapegoats.

It is easy to talk about freedom. But it needs a lot more courage and patience to fight for freedom. This is the path where every turn is full of tests. You go through such stages where your own friends on whom you relied, say that no longer know us, of course for their own vested interests. They, even, leave you and make alliances with your enemies.

The struggle is the best criteria to judge not only who is for and against the truth, but also to expose the hypocrites. It is not for freedom fighters to complain about the difficulties they face. I have gone through three stages of state torture; first in occupied Kashmir, then in Azad Kashmir and finally in Royal Fort (Shahi Qillah) Lahore, which is a remnant of the colonial era. As time is not sufficient to go into the details, I would give a brief account. At all three places, the purpose of torture was completely different. In Indian occupied Kashmir, occupying officers were looking for facts about our movement and about myself. In Muzaffarabad, “Azad Kashmir” the FIU (Federal Intelligence Unit) was not looking for facts, but they wanted me to confirm their pre-planned assumptions, and the Gestapos in Lahore Fort were torturing me to tell an utter lie and to give a false statement as part of their conspiracy.

Only the administrative machinery of the oppressive rulers of this country could have done what was done to us to distort the facts and to construct the stories and characters. Some details of the torture, of which we were subjected in Lahore Fort, are given by my comrades in their written statements. But there was a lot more done in the Fort. The fact is that some details are so shameful that it is not possible to bring them in writing. I leave the decision about what happened in Shahi Qillah (Royal Fort) for the Day of Judgement.

Whatever ruling is made by this court, I can clearly see that it cannot do justice in this case. It is not that I do not trust this court, but it is the self-constructed nature of the allegations made against us, for they can’t be defended in existing conditions. The false nature of these allegations cannot be proved as long as my country remains divided.

However, it is my faith that the dawn of freedom will fall in my country and the line of division will be trodden upon. This will be the time when facts about my life will come out. Only then will I get justice and history will bear witness. That day my people will know the reality of the allegations, by both the Indian and Pakistani rulers against me, of being an agent of India or Pakistan. I will wait for the time when my case is put in front of my own people, that hearing will be held in a free Kashmir. All the real evidence and witnesses will be brought forth and that is the day I will get justice because none of the witnesses and evidence will be backed by India or Pakistan. In my country, there will be justice and only justice.

During the examination, this court has inquired about the suspicion shown by FIU Major Naseer Gul Khattak in his report about my escape from Srinagar prison. Having read this report in full, I maintain that it is totally against the facts and nothing more than a biased view of a military officer. They held me for months after my crossover and whatever I told them is already in front of you. I cannot forget how my people looked after us after our escape from Srinagar, those memories are etched deep in my heart and my mind. I still remember how they would bid us goodbye with a lump in their throat and tears in their eyes. I am sure that God is not so cruel that he won’t listen to the sighs and duas coming from the depths of our heart.

All contradictions, which this ‘expert’ intelligence officer has pointed out are rooted not in my account of escape, but in his views about the peoples’ armed struggle. I feel sorry for such people. The product of colonialism, Generals hate the concept of peoples’ army because it challenges the monopoly of General’s on military resources. It is a historical fact that military dictators never supported any organization engaged in the liberation war. On the contrary, they made contacts with the enemies of freedom fighters. During martial regimes, the armed struggles of Palestine, Vietnam, Algeria, and other African countries were presented as negative. The military rulers of Pakistan never supported a peoples’ armed struggle for Azaadi in Kashmir. They hated it as much as the Muslims of the early period hated pig meat. It is this hatred of military rulers towards peoples’ armed struggle, which has made me and my comrades the target of brutal torture and humiliation. It’s an old habit of dictators to label anybody who doesn’t follow their command as an enemy agent.

Finishing here, I would like the court to fulfill its duty which has been given to it under special order. At present, I have no other choice but to give myself in the merciless hands of time and to wait for the day when the darkness of discrimination and malice, cruelty and exploitation will be replaced by the light of justice. That day I will ask for justice.”

I am a student, from Pulwama, legally 17 right now. I have completed 12 (Without Math) and was preparing for NEET and lost all ambitions because my interest is computers. I have programming since 4 years now.

Some of you seem to be well settled, so what are my options?

#Open Thread

This is a open/free-form thread that is engagements here do not to conform to a certain topic.

This thread (hosted weekly) will be open to all kinds of discussions, conversations, questions or interesting tidbits that you feel disinclined to share through a post.

Hello everybody. very random question. Yesterday my cat escaped from my house and ran away. He was last seen in a wooded area near my neighbor's house.

I have been advised to not run after him trying to find him as he will probably run away farther. I want to set up some traps where he was last seen so I can try catching him. Does anyone know where I can get traps like this in srinagar? For purchase or even just to borrow

##ESCAPE HERE – REARREST THERE/THE LIFE AND TIMES OF MAQBOOL BHAT (PART ONE) BY WANDE TEAM/WANDE MAGZINE

One Kashmiri, Abdullah Dar succumbed to perks of the state and turned into a Government witness, he was later used to persecute Maqbool and his friends. Maqbool, along with his two associates, were tried in a Srinagar court headed by Neelkanth Ganjoo for killing Amarchand, crossing the LOC illegally, and being an enemy agent under Enemy Act 1943, the case went on for almost two years and the verdict was given in August 1968. Maqbool Bhatt and Mir Ahmed were given a death sentence but Kala Khan was sentenced to life imprisonment.

When Maqbool was asked if he had anything to say in his defense, he said, "I have no problem in accepting the charges leveled against me, except one. I am not an enemy agent (agent of Pakistan) but I am the enemy itself. Have a good look at me and recognize me well, I am enemy of your illegal rule in Kashmir... There is no rope that can hang Maqbool.”

An IB officer who had interrogated Maqbool after his arrest had said that almost the entire interrogation team was impressed by his clarity of thought, including Maoism.

The case went on for about two years and in August 1968 they were sent to the Bagh-e-Mehtab interrogation center and but the fire was yet to die down. To buy some time, Maqbool Bhat appealed against the court decision while he and his friends started planning an escape and, within a month and a half, managed to do the same. In the bone-chilling winter of December 1968, he walked hundreds of miles on foot and crossed the LOC 'illegally' once again back to his base camp.

Maqbool Bhatt later wrote in great detail about the escape and submitted the file before the Special Trial Court in Pakistan where he was tried along with other NLF members for ‘Ganga’ hijacking. A brief account of the escape is included here from one of his interviews in 1972:

Freedom lovers have always tried to break the walls that cage them, it’s even more important in a guerrilla fight. Our escape was no coincidence, we didn’t just see an opportunity and took it. Right from the time they put the shackles on me, I was thinking of ways to escape. I knew if I had to finish what I had started I would have to escape no matter what. I decided not to take help from anybody outside as it would put their lives in danger too, their allegiance had to remain a secret for now. We were kept separate from other prisoners, our area was called Zanaan Khana/Zanana Jail and during the autumn of 1967, we were joined by Zul Zamaan, Jamus Khan and Ghulam Yasin. All of them were from Azaad Kashmir and had crossed over to IOK during the 1965 war. Yasin had been arrested for spying for Pakistan. After getting to know them, our team grew, we were six now (Kala Khan, it seems, was being held in the other wing), Jamus and Zamaan lived in the second cell. Our cell had Room A and Room B, Room B was divided into 3 sections, kitchen, toilet and washroom. Four guards would still always stay outside to keep a watch. One had a machine gun and the other three were armed with rifles, all of them were from the BSF. We divided our escape plan into three steps. First, we had to improve our relationship with the prison administration by acting naive and making them believe that we mean no harm

We would even smile whenever they tried to instigate a reaction. Second, we had to get friendly with the prison Administration, most of them were Muslims who identified with us. Slowly and one by one, we explained to them how we were not arrested for looting or stealing as the state and its propaganda says but for demanding freedom for Kashmir. We told them we wanted Kashmiris to rise and they could only rise after Azaadi.

We soon found a support base who identified and would work for us among them, they would do minute tasks and carry our messages. We also used to get Indian Express, Aftab and a few cigarettes during the evening. The prison administration would censor much of the stuff in the newspapers. In winters, we were supplied with a Kashmiri bukhāri, which also helped us in our escape later on. The prison building was pretty old, it had soil plastered on stones not wider than a brick. On 21 August 1968, I filed an appeal against my death penalty in from of the Chief Justice of Indian occupied Kashmir. It was 300 lines long (The appeal is missing from the High-Court records). After my appeal, our wooden doors were replaced by iron doors, our walls were fixed and coloured with white, we demanded a bulb but it was rejected as “people under death sentence aren’t allowed such privileges” but they would leave a lantern near the prison bars. We asked for a 6-inch nail to hang our clothes and a place to put our Quran on. We were being chained even while roaming around the prison grounds and even when we went to the bathroom.

In October 1968, we started putting our plan into action. The appeal was going on while I was gathering information from my sources inside the prison. I came to know that our wall was just 8 feet away from the prison walls, outside which was a field where vegetables used to grow. Many prisoners used to be taken there for work during the summers. There were no guards in the field during winter so it seemed to be the best time for escape. The second cell was at the end of the jail (where Pakistani citizens were held) was the end of the jail, it’s an eastern wall made up of bricks and at least 3 feet wide but the one opposite to the bars were weaker and made up of stones. We used one of its rooms as our storeroom where we would keep our things (mattresses/blankets etc). My sources told me that it would be comparatively easier to break through a stonewall than through the brick one. We decided to open a hole between the two cells first so that we can move easily.

As the winters came, we noticed our walls were turning wet, so we covered them with blankets up to 2.5 feet in height. When questioned about our actions we simply said that our clothes were getting dirty and wet walls were making the cells colder. As we had already won their trust, they believed it. I complained to the jail administration that our jails were too open for such a brutal winter. I asked for permission to cover them from the floor to a few feet height with blankets, to which they again agreed. At evenings, I used to stay near the blankets, as if trying to find some light to read my newspapers but in reality, I was keeping an eye while my friends were doing their work. We used the 6-inch nail to dig the wall and hid the mud and stones under our mattresses. This was done so slowly that even the guard roaming outside our cell wouldn’t hear anything. No newspaper meant no digging. We soon managed to create a hole big enough to pass by through, it took us eight days.

The wall was covered with blankets so the guards wouldn’t smell anything fishy whenever they peaked in during the day. As we couldn’t crossover to the second cell until everybody slept, we changed the timing of our digging. To dig the wall for our escape, we found 12 am-2 am a preferable time to work. I would still go the prison bars to read my newspaper order to minimize any chance of suspicion and we all would fake sleep till 12. Around 12:00 am every day, Ghulam Yasin would cross over to the other cell and start his work. I would use blankets from the store to make a dummy in order to make sure he would seem to be sleeping from the outside if anybody came to check. It took us almost two weeks to finish working on this wall. Now, we had to create a hole in the main wall which surrounded the whole compound. We used the iron and wood from our Bukhari to do this job but suddenly one day our guard changed.

These new guards were from the CRPF. They didn’t even speak Urdu or Hindu but only English and Tamil. We found it easier to impress them and I even learned a bit of Tamil from them. These poor souls were from the plains and the winters of Kashmir were too harsh for them. They would light a big Bukhari during the night, surround it, make tea and talk, thinking that we all were deep asleep. They would have not even in their wildest dreams thought what we were up to. On 17 November 1968, the Indian government decided to convert all death sentences into life sentences in respect of the 20th death anniversary of the Mahatma Gandhi that was soon about to be celebrated. Next day, the Jail staff visited to congratulate and informed us that we shall be soon shifted to the normal cells. We had already finished 3/4th of our work, so changing our cells would have exposed our secret. We told them that every cell was the same for us and we were still on the death sentence till the official order came. Even our guards weren’t happy with the general actions of the Indian state. I used to discuss and share news from Madras with them and that would make them extremely happy. During the third week of November, Ramadan started and we were given some relaxation.

Our Pakistani friends would come into our cell during the day (legally) and we would pray together. After the prayers, I would recite the Quran to them and talk about Jihad against falsehood so that they wouldn’t lose hope. One day, Mir Ahmed returned with red eyes and deep breaths, he said, “Maybe Allah doesn’t want our Azaadi, there is a huge stone blocking our way out. We can’t close the holes neither can we get away. What should we do now, Maqbool?”. I told him to have faith and start digging around the edges of the stone. When the edges became weak, the big stone took just around 15 minutes to dispose of. I cannot explain the smile on his face when he came back! He hugged me and kissed my forehead, it was around 2. The guards came as they always would around this time during Ramadhan to order Yasin to make Sehri for us. We explained the plan of escaping on the same night to Yasin after the guards went away to warm themselves. Mir Ahmed was the first to cross, then Yasin and then me. We thought about our brothers, who refused to come with us. They didn’t believe we would be able to escape, forget cross over to Azaad Kashmir during such a harsh winter. They said it was impossible, that it was a suicide, but we had made our mind. We again requested them to join us but they declined. I think they were scared, very scared. We took some food, a packet of cigarettes and my legal documents with us and left.

It was the 9th of December 1968 and around 2:30 am when we escaped. We reached the mountains of Badamwari and crossed a river. The winter was bone-chilling, only the thirst of Azaadi and the strength of our Emaan kept us going. We would deliberately cross rivers rather than going around them as we knew police (with their trained dogs) would soon be looking for us. It took us 16 days to reach to the first border check post of Azad Kashmir. We didn’t contact our sympathizers in Indian Occupied Kashmir because we knew they would be facing the brunt of the state after our escape. We also knew crackdowns would be happening all over Kashmir. We would walk through apple orchards to escape sight while eating our eggs and rotis. Every day at around 4 am, guards usually interchanged their positions in the prison. After the change, they would check on the prisoners from outside to see if everything was going alright, but we weren’t there anymore. The countermeasures should have started by now. The sun was coming up, so we took up to the mountains and hid there till it was dark again.

At around 2:00 am on the 10th of December, it started to snow but we couldn’t stop. Our feet were freezing and we lost the way, but we still kept going as stopping was no option. It had snowed only on the mountains till now, so we found a cave and warmed ourselves there, then we came down and continued our journey through the plains. We soon found a lonely village, right in the middle of nowhere. On the outskirts of it, we found a small hut. The inhabitants were poor, so we asked only for a place to rest. Treating us as his own, the owner told us to sit near the Dambur and served tea. He told us about a dream he had had yesternight, in which a divine figure had appeared to him and informed him about the coming of a few guests who should be taken great care of. Even though he was a shepherd, he makes sure we got everything we needed. Our feet were washed with warm water. My companions slept but I kept talking to my host till we had Sehri. This place was somewhere in Alasteng, the same place Srinagar gets its electricity from. We soon left for Ghanderbal, it was a highly militarised area but to our good-luck, it was also raining profusely and due to heavy fog, nobody could see beyond about 50 feet.

We again took refuge in a lonely house to dry our clothes and to warm ourselves by acting as businessmen from Residency Road, Srinagar who had come to the area for hunting. Our host asked me if I could help him with a land-grabbing case going on at the Srinagar High Court, I replied affirmatively.

During our stay, Ahmed Rather (our host) instructed us to be careful as the army and the CRPF had started strict checking of all roads leading to and from Srinagar and were harassing people, even the women weren’t spared. I acted surprised and asked him why all this was happening.

“Don’t you know? Mujahideen have escaped from Srinagar. They were being kept there since long, some were even on the death sentence… Not only army, even CID is looking for them, but they are nowhere to be found”, he said.

We then started to talk about the Mujahideen of 1965. I told him how I had helped the Mujahideen during those years (which is a fact) and he was highly impressed. I asked him, “I have heard that a lot of Mujahideen were working in this area. Is it true?”, He sighed and said, “Yes, it’s true. They were working here, some even saw them but I never did, how I wish I would have seen one.” I changed the subject and asked about his personal life. He was a farmer, who during his youth also used to deliver supplies to Srinagar, Gurez, Asur, Poji, and Gilgit. “But these are the stories of old times, now the LOC has divided our country. I can’t go there nor can they come here,” he added. I then told him that I wanted to discuss something of grave importance with him alone. He took me to the third floor of his home and we sat on a Patij. I asked him if he was in the state of Wuduh and he replied with a yes.

I then took out the Panch-Surah which I always used to carry with me out from my pocket and asked him to keep his hand on it and promise me that he would not share the secrets I was about to reveal with any other living soul. After his promise, I told him we were the same Mujahideen who had escaped from Srinagar. His face brightened up, and his eyes turned bloodshot. I don’t think I can really explain his emotions at that time. He began crying, kissing my hands and hugging me. He ran down to the first floor and spread a new carpet, opened his Almirah and also took out his new blankets and mattresses. From now on, we were told to stay in this room. He then went to the kitchen and asked his wife to cook chicken. Rather than Tyoth, preparations for Kehwa began too.

The old man ordered his daughter to go to the main village and get her brother (Habib) home too. At the time of dinner, food was brought to the first floor. I could see on the face of his wife how proud she was for getting a chance to cook for us (Mujahideen), but only men ate at our table while the women ate separately. Within a few hours, we turned from strangers to their most beloved guests. They made sure we had no complaints about our stay. We told them we had to leave in the middle of the night and Habib offered to guide us as far as he could.

On 12 December 1968, at around 1:00 am, I and my friends woke up and found the old man still awake and waiting. He woke up his family and asked them to prepare a meal while he went to get some fruits and a few kilograms of rice for us from his orchids which we would need during our journey. We refused to take anything but were forced to accept. With a heavy heart and a lot of blessing, Baba bade us farewell. In the dim moonlight, we left for our destination with Habib.

Habib was well-informed about the area and helped us skip checkpoints with ease. After an hour of walk, Habib told us that he didn’t know what lay beyond, so we bade him farewell. Before leaving, I had written a letter attributed to Sheikh Nazir of the Plebiscite Front for our hosts, I wrote to him about our escape and asked him to help Habib and his family in their case going on in the High Court. I had met Sheikh Nazir during our imprisonment at the Srinagar Jail.

We took to the mountains and crossed a few rivers and reached another village. The river divided the village into two parts. On the banks of it was a Masjid, we prayed Nafl there and resumed our journey. After reaching the Sumbal-Ganderbal road intersection we started walking towards Sumbal. We reached yet another village where people were leaving for Fajr prayers. A man saw us and greeted us with the Islamic greeting, he asked us who we were and I answered saying that I was the forester from a nearby village on my way to Sumbal with my colleagues. Foresters are not seen as a direct part of occupying force in Kashmir, so people go easy on them.

Coincidentally, Mohammad Akhoon (our host) had just built a new house and needed wood for it. He requested us to stay with him for a few hours so that we could rest. The sun was coming up, we also were in need of a place to stay, so we agreed. He took us to his newly built house, they hadn’t moved in yet but preparations were in place. We decided to sit there rather than going to his old house because it was easier to keep an eye on the village from this location. Akhoon went home and came back with tea. While he was gone, I had ordered my friends not to unpack anything and be ready to move while staying at the window. One cannot be sure of anything.

After coming back and noticing our uneasiness, Akhoon asked me why we wouldn’t even take our shoes off? I, acting as a forester, authoritatively ordered him to not talk about useless matters with us but he kept insisting. We removed our shoes and sat comfortably.

I asked him about his family. Akhoon had a wife, and a daughter who had been married recently. By morning, the news of our escape had reached here too. Akhoon told me how the forces were looking everywhere to find the escaped Mujahids. My eyes fell on a sewing machine and I learnt that Akhoon was a part-time tailor. I used his scissors and the sewing machine to make a pair of gloves from a piece of my blanket that I had taken along from the jail.

I found Akhoon to be very supportive and the same as I had done with Baba, I made him place his hand on the Quran and promise to protect our secrets. Akhoon wanted to run back home and get more food for us after he heard the truth but I refused. When his son-in-law came to check on us, Akhoon went to get the dawat (invitation) he was planning all along. He ordered his son-in-law to look after us and not to leave us alone in case we needed anything. Akhoon requested me if he could bring his daughter in to meet us too. He wanted her to see the Mujahideen. I skipped his requests multiple times, but he wouldn’t give up so we agreed to see his daughter. She and her husband later left for their home after meeting us.

Akhoon provided us with a guide who was extremely happy for getting a chance to guide the Mujahideen. He also got some sugar, tea, cigarettes, and kulchas from for us which we might need on the way. We left at around 7:00 pm.

We walked on the road to Sumbal for some time but later went into the cornfields. Electric polls were directing us towards other villages. After two hours of walking, I asked my guide to return, he insisted on coming with us until we reached Sumbal but I refused stating that his family would be waiting for his return.

After waiting for a few minutes, we changed our path. It was not a sudden change; it was our plan all along (this was done to fool the authorities in case somebody snitched). After walking for a few more hours, we reached the Mansbal lake. To our left was a big village with bright lights. We found two houses on the outskirts, but both were empty. While we were discussing our plan ahead, the electricity went out in the village. We decided it was safer to go into the village now but we couldn’t just knock at any house and be mistaken for thieves. I told my companions to keep their eyes and ears open and look for a house where people were still awake. While walking, we heard a man coughing on the second floor of his wooden godown. These godowns always have a room where the owner can stay and is usually built near one’s own house.

I ordered my companions to stop and knocked at the window with a long stick. There was no answer for the first time, but when I knocked again, he asked us who we were and what did we want at this time. In a hushed-up voice, I told him that we were no strangers and asked him to open the window so we could talk. He opened the window and again asked us about our business there. “We are Musafirs from Sumbal and want to go to a village a little far from here, we are very tired and want to take some rest”, I said politely. He pointed at a Masjid nearby and asked us to go there and rest as much as we wanted to. I told him that it wasn’t possible for us to go there, had it been possible we wouldn’t have come to him in the first place.

He allowed us to come in. He then lit his lantern and looked at us carefully. “Oh, so it is you, people! I am so happy to meet you. Now I understand why you don’t want to go to the Masjid. You are the Mujahideen everybody is looking for!”, exclaimed the 25-years-old young man. We told him that we wouldn’t have disturbed him in the middle of the night like this, but it was extremely necessary for us to cross the lake somehow. “Consider it done, if you want, I can be of more help. We are always ready to make sacrifices for our Mujahideen, but first you should take some rest,” he replied.

He extinguished the light and talked to us about the Mujahideen. He told us about his younger brother who was studying in a college nearby and how he would love to see us. I asked him to make the arrangements for our crossing, but he wanted us to have Sehri with him first. We went to his house, where we also met his brother who was really happy to meet us. All of us together had our Sehri with rice and fishes. We also listened to the radio to catch some news. After we were done, both the brothers helped us cross the river and joined us until we reached the Sumbal-Bandipora road. I asked them to return from there. I don’t remember their names, but they belonged to the Wagay caste.

On 13 December 1968, we again walked non-stop till we reached Sadarkot. We could hear the sound of Duroods being hummed from the Masjids. It was almost morning. We crossed Sadarkot and again started looking for a place to stay. A mile away from Sadarkot, we found a few isolated houses. We decided to either stay in the jungles nearby or stay in one of the houses. When we reached the last house, we knocked on its door and a young boy came out. He told me that his father was still at the Masjid.

I told him that we were his father’s guests and wanted to meet him. He guided us inside and introduced himself as Ghulam Rasool. After around 15 minutes, his father returned and sat near me and asked us who we were and where we were from. I told him that we had come here for hunting and wanted to cross the mountains ahead. While we were talking, I also told him that I was a schoolmaster by profession. So, to test his sons' progress, he requested me to ask him a few questions. The father was himself uneducated but had left no stone unturned to educate his son. I ordered Ghulam Rasool, a 9th class student to come closer and asked a few questions. After some time, much to the relief of his father, I told him that his child was good at studies and would pass his exams with ease. Now, he wanted me to examine hi10-year-old daughter too. She was a student of the Qu’ran. She was a bit weak in her studies so I had to correct her from time to time. Hearing my Tilawat (recitation), the father asked me where I had learnt it from but I asked him why was he interested in knowing where I had learnt to recite the Qu’ran in such a manner.

“Your recitation reminds me of the old times, the time when our country wasn’t divided. I was a young man then, working in Punjab. The Mullahs there have a tone much similar to yours.”, he said. I told him that I had got my religious knowledge from Punjab itself. He then began to share his experiences of living in Punjab. While discussing different topics, we also took up Kashmir’s politics. After getting positive answers from him, we revealed our real identity to him too. He too was extremely happy to host us and did whatever he could to make our stay comfortable. One of us would stay at the door and keep an eye on the surroundings while others would rest. Our host told us that the whole of Bandipora had been turned into a garrison after our escape. Various check-points had been set up and raids were taking places everywhere. Sensing danger, we decided to change our course. At the evening, I asked our host if he could find for us a guide who could help us reach the Sonawari Tehsil through Jehlum. He sent his son to the surrounding houses who came back with 3 more people. Out of them, Ghulam Ahmed Khan volunteered to go with us. After our dinner, we left at around 9:00pm and reached Chandaregare. Here, our guide took us to his son-in-law’s house.

Here, we met two more people, Salam and Sana-ullah Sheikh. They informed us that crossing through the river into Sonawari was not safe anymore as CID officials in civilian clothes had been installed near the banks of the river, but at the same time, they also promised us that they would find a way till morning. We stayed at their house for the night. I warned them not to snitch on us, else we would burn the whole house down with everybody in it. One of us would always stay awake while the others slept to keep an eye. After our Sehri, Ahmed Khan bade us farewell and informed us that he would return by noon with some details.

In the morning, Sana-ullah gave us a transistor to listen to the radio. At around 7:00 am in the morning, Sana-ullah too bade us farewell as he had to mark himself present at his office. He promised to come back as soon as possible. I told him to also get details about the presence of the enemy forces around the area. Salam had volunteered to take us to Sopore undetected.

At around 2:00, Sunaah-ullah returned with the newspaper Aftab. It carried a news of our escape and the repercussions faced by the officials on duty there (Extra detail – At least 24 employees including the Superintendent and his Deputy were dismissed. Two among them identified as Ghulam Qadir Khan and Muhammad Amin Zarger were taken into custody and severely tortured in Kothibagh Police Station for 17 days. They were shifted to Joint Interrogation Centre (JIC), Hari Niwas, and after a month shifted to Coimbatore Jail in Tamil Nadu. After a year, Ghulam Qadir Khan and Muhammad Amin Zarger were released on parole. However, they were required to present themselves before the investigating authorities once a week. Later the court ordered their release and reinstatement. However, severe torture had adversely affected Ghulam Qadir’s nerves. He turned mentally ill and died without hearing the good news of his reinstatement). A little while later, Ghulam Mohammad Khan and Salam joined us too. Everybody shared the information they had been able to gather. Salam had already arranged a boat for us which would lead us into the jungle, crossing which would land us in Sopore. We decided to leave in the evening.

After our journey through the boat, We, Sana-ullah, Salam and our boatman reached Mugdambagh, a village of fishermen/women. We knocked at a one-storey hut, but the owner refused to open the door fearing we might be thieves. Only after a few minutes of persuasion did he agree to open the door. We asked for his help and offered to pay, but he refused to go out before the sunrise. His wife was suffering a mental disorder, and she thought she was possessed by a Jinn/Ghost. I read from the Quran and blew on her. She considered our coming as a sign of good luck. At about 6 in the morning, we said goodbye to our friends and got into the old man’s boat to continue our journey.

It took us about 3 hours to reach our destination, Sangar. Sangar is the same hill where the tomb of Baba Shukuruddin is located. From this hill, all of Zaingeer and Sonawari is visible. After walking for about 4 hours, we reached an apple orchid and decided to take some rest there till the sun dusked upon us. I sent Mir Ahmed to the village where one of our friends, Abdul Rehman Mir lived. After finding him at home, we decided to meet. Here, we also met Maqbool Mir, a farmer from Kupwara. He invited us to stay at his place for the night and we agreed.

In the morning, we sent Maqbool Mir to check out the security footprint in the area while Abdul Rehman got supplies and equipment for our journey ahead. He also provided us with bandages and sheep-hides to walk through the snow. Here, people would cover their legs up to their shins with the hides and tie grass-ropes around them to keep them in place. Strips of cloth were also tied from their ankles to their knees to make it air-proof. This was the only way to survive the snow coming ahead. We left after some rest.

On 17 December, after walking for a few hours, we reached Baramulla through Rafiabad and took shelter in the woods. We decided to go to Qazinag, it was a difficult route but we had no other option. Ghulam Yasin remembered these woods, it was through these woods he was able to return to Azaad Kashmir during the Operation Gibraltar. We had also heard that not only Police and CID, but also Chowkidars and Numberdars were warned against helping any unknown individuals. Huge banners with our pictures had also been set up at many places warning people of at least 7 years of imprisonment if they dared to help us and a reward of ₹10,000 if they passed any information leading to our capture. We were on our way towards Nowgam through the dense jungle and soon reached areas covered with snow. When it was almost dark, we found a place to rest and started a fire to keep us warm.

On 18 December 1968, we started out for Qazinag Galli, our pace slowed down as the weather kept getting colder and snow more dense. After reaching Qazinag at around 2:00 pm, we found an abandoned hut and took some rest there. These huts belonged to the Bakarwal community who brought their animals to these areas during the summers.

Now, we had to climb the snow mountains ahead. At places, we would be inside the snow up to our waists, but we continued climbing until it was almost dark. Dabritop was our next destination. My companions were tired and wanted to rest, but I didn’t want anybody to stop as we hadn’t covered much distance due to our slow pace. Ration was also running out. We kept walking to the top under the dim moonlight. At around 2:00am, we found a small plateau near the top with another abandoned hut on it. We went inside, ate and slept.

On 19 December 1968, as the dawn was upon us, we picked up bags and resumed our journey to the top. After reaching to the top at around 10 am, we knew this was the spot after which we could no longer see the valley, so we decided to stay there for a moment. I looked back at my motherland but couldn’t see anything. As far as my eyes went, everything was covered with clouds. It was due to these clouds that I couldn’t see this heart-alluring, beautiful nation of mine whom I had chose to live and die for. We started our descent. The snow had frozen during the night, making it easier for us to walk on it. Our plan now was to reach a jungle before dusk. After walking for some time, I saw a forest to my left but while coming down, Mir Ahmed slipped, I still remember how I dig my hiking pole into the snow and grabbed him. When we reached the forest, we found an abandoned bunker. Inside it were only a few letters in Hindi and some utensils. This meant that we were somewhere near the LOC. We stayed for the night.

On 20 December 1968, we resumed our journey. The mountain we were about to cross was so hard to trek that even after a day of climbing, we couldn’t reach the top. We found a small forest midway, got some Birch bark to keep us warm and took rest but it wasn’t comfortable enough to get any sleep. We again resumed our journey in the morning. At around 2:00 pm, we crossed over the mountain, but I had already met with an accident. While climbing, I had slipped and fallen down into a river. My hand was also injured but as the temperature was below zero there wasn’t much blood loss. We soon reached Satsari. Now in front of us was a river, which people of Azaad Kashmir call Chumb-nala. We took rest for the night and walked on the banks of it for the next day as it led to mainlands of Azaad Kashmir. The snow was decreasing but our feet had had enough of the frostbites, cramps, and injuries (from our handcrafted boots), but we couldn’t take the boots off due to the fear of infection. Whenever we would stop to warm ourselves, the pain would increase due to the increased flow of blood. Mir Ahmed’s condition was the worst. I don’t think he even slept for a moment during that night. But what could we do except console him?

On 23 December 1968, at around 12:00 PM, we had almost reached our destination, but Mir Ahmed refused to go any further. He was trembling with pain and wanted us to leave him behind. As our attempts at motivating him failed, I started to mock and taunt him so as to make him change his mind. I also took his bag and put his arm around my neck to help him walk. When we had to climb, I would carry him on my back. Had all this been not done, I am sure he would have died.

We soon found a man wandering in the jungle and asked him if this was Azaad Kashmir to confirm our belief. He replied with a yes and took us to his home after hearing our story. This was a day after Eid. How our Eid went, you already know. We will celebrate our Eid the day Kashmir is free.

We were hungry since the last three days, Shah Mohammad (our host) cooked some rice and potatoes as fast as he could to feed us. We removed our shoes and they washed our blood-soaked feet. As the house was too small to host us all, Shah Mohammad asked his friend Muhammad Yaqoob to host me and Yasin. We asked Shah to bring Mir Ahmed to us in the morning. Yaqoob’s family took great care of us. People gather around us and congratulated us for our hard earned freedom.

On December 24, 1968, Shah Muhammad brought Mir Ahmed to us. The news of our arrival had spread far and wide already. People were coming to congratulate us. We now had to go to a checkpost, but didn’t have the strength to walk further. People of Azad Kashmir carried us on their backs and walked for at least 2 hours till we reached the checkpost. Here, a Subedaar welcomed us and offered tea. The news of our coming was then forwarded to his senior officers. I talked to a Force Commander who was stationed at another check point. He assured me that he will report our coming to his seniors too, and whenever a decision is taken we would be informed. I talked to the Subedaar for the next two hours while Mir Ahmed and Ghulam Yasin talked to the other soldiers. We were then taken to the Chinari Batallion Headquarters. By the time we reached there, it was snowing there as well. From there, we were directed towards Sawankhuch. The snow was almost 9-inch high by now. I thanked Allah for the weather that had remained almost constant during our crossover, had it been any different, we would have perished.

Next day, we were served food in the military mess and while talking to a few officers, one of the GCOs (General Officer Commanding) of FIU (Federal Intelligence Unit) came inside the camp and started questioning us. The military doctors took great care of us nonetheless. It had been ages since I had shaved or even washed my face with warm water. Next day, the GCO returned with a jeep and took us to Muzaffarabad. In Muzaffarabad, we were taken to The Black Fort and handed over to the 611 Field Investigation Unit. This is where our running which had started from our prison cell finished. This was our victory and the defeat of our enemy who was much more powerful than us, whose resources were infinite and who was always keeping an eye on the oppressed people. This victory gave birth to new hopes and dreams in my heart. It strengthened my belief and love for my nation. What more could a man who was on a death sentence wish for? I thought I would be going back to my family but my dreams were short lived. My experiences at the Black Fort shook me to the core and my mind started running. It became difficult to differentiate between my enemy and my ‘friend’.