Irfan Tramboo
My past is filled with unforgettable memories. My life had meaning, there was peace and joy once. The heart that has become numb now had once experienced the greatest love imaginable.
My son was the world unto me, and in all his hopes and dreams I saw mine fulfilled. But that was meant not to be. Life played a strange game and threw us in a deep sea of misery. Cruel hands of fate snatched everything away from Tahir and now what is left of him is only a body that possesses no soul.
Tahir had designed big dreams for his future but on that fateful day they took away all of them, everything that he ever possessed.
That fateful night my family and I were getting ready for dinner. It was 9.30 in the evening, if I remember correctly. Tahir was sitting beside me. I had prepared for him his favorite delicacy ‘Kabab’. The very mention of it brought water into his mouth. He immediately showed his delight and finished his dinner in no time.
After finishing the dinner I washed all the dishes and then came back to sit for a while. Tahir shifted close to me and rested his head on my lap. With motherly affection I softly ran my fingers through his hair and he was soon asleep. I watched him while he was lying on my lap and was soon lost, perhaps remembering all the joy we felt on the day he was born.
While I was lost in the recollections of the past, a sudden knocking at the door shook me up.
“Darwaaze trae’vev yalle, (open the door),” somebody was shouting outside. It was quite late at night and it scared me.
The moment I opened the door some three to four men forcibly entered into our house. They were tall, wearing masks on their face. Guns hanging on their back provided a horrible spectacle. I was trembling with fear as there was nothing I could comprehend. But, soon I gained my composure and when their clothes caught my eye, I could guess that they were police men.
“Necchu katte chuie?” (Where is your son?) One of them inquired.
“Suhaz chu shengithh,” (he is sleeping) I quickly replied.
“Get him,” one of the men ordered his colleague. In no time they took Tahir away from me.
“Aem kya kour? Me waentaw paase khuda (what has he done? Tell me for God’s sake,” I kept on begging them, but all my cries and enquiries fell on deaf ears. When nobody answered my repeated queries, I grabbed the collar of one of them, the police, and begged for an answer to why they were taking him away.
But instead of telling me anything he pushed me hard toward the stairs. I fell down and lost my consciousness.
With cries and murmurs around I regained my consciousness. Neighbors, distant relatives all were present. Their pale faces had serious and worried expressions. The first thing in the morning I asked was about my son. Where were he and how he was? No voice came out but only the shrieks and cries of woe.
“Wenne trowukh ne kenh (He has not been released yet)” my husband replied.
In just one night of separation from his son, my husband had grown pale and my son was drowned in his brother’s thoughts. We were missing him, worried about his safety.
Next day as 10:30 in the night, Rashid sahib got a call and it was from the same police station where Tahir was lodged.
“Yekkya yekkye me lagan 10 minute, Be woutuss (I’ll be there in 10 minutes),” he told them.
My joy knew no bounds. Tahir was going to be released, he told me.
At around 12 midnight, they came back. He brought Tahir, my son, along. I tightly hugged him and kissed him on his forehead. But he was visibly depressed. Injury marks were all over his body. His face, arms, chest and his back were bleeding. His nails had been uprooted. Blood was oozing out.
Tahir could barely walk. Without talking to anyone of us, he went straight to his room. I tried to stop him but Rashid sahib told me to let him go.
“Temmav kya woun waen?(what did the police say?),” I turned to Rashid Sahib and asked.
“Kya wannan? Dopukhh ye chunne su yas aes chandaan aes (He is not the boy they were looking for),” he answered in a depressed tone, as if saying that our life was devastated for no reason.
I was shell shocked. How could they torture our child for no fault of his.
“What the hell? Does any law prevail here?”
But still Tahir was lucky that he was released. There are thousands of others who have disappeared, innocent souls killed in fake encounters, men languishing in jails, people booked under unjust laws.
We have the right to know where they are, whether dead or alive. Alas! nobody has the answer.
(This is a piece of fiction. The author is a freelance journalist and can be reached at [email protected]. Send your contributions to [email protected])
