By F. Ahmed
IANS
Srinagar : Mohan Lal Safaya, an 83-year-old Hindu, rues the day he was forced to quit the Kashmir Valley because of turmoil and longs for the Muslims he grew up with amid love and affection.
Calling his present neighbours in New Delhi where he lives as strangers, Safaya (name changed) comes across as a broken man.
He was buying Urdu newspapers in the uptown Rawalpora area of Srinagar the other day. Safaya is neither interested in the daily violence figures of Jammu and Kashmir nor in the India-Pakistan peace process.
He lost his downtown Habba Kadal home in 1990 when he had to leave the valley with thousands of Kashmiri Pandits whose migration started with the outbreak of the armed secessionist struggle against Indian rule in 1989.
Safaya had retired as a junior accountant from the local audit office in 1984. His two sons are now settled in New Delhi, but they have deserted their father.
"The elder son is working with a multinational company and the younger is with a nationalized bank. I live alone. My meagre pension of Rs.4,000 a month is just enough to keep my body going. My soul died the day I left Kashmir.
"I used to read the Urdu dailies in the good old days. It is purely for nostalgia's sake that I want to buy some of them today," he told IANS, his voice choking with emotion.
Safaya has come to Kashmir with a group of elderly Kashmiri migrants who wanted to see their homeland, perhaps for the last time.
"I am old enough and ripe for death. I wanted to have a final glimpse of my birthplace before dying," he said.
"I have lived the best part of my life among the Muslim neighbours in Kashmir who cared for me like brothers. Today I live in Delhi as stranger to everybody.
"My sons are busy fending for their own families. After my wife's death in 2004, I have been living as a loner in the Rohini area of Delhi. Nobody knows me there and I know nobody there. When death comes, I pray I am not cremated as an unclaimed corpse." Tears roll down his eyes as some Muslims in Rawalpora offer him for a cup of tea.
Would he ever return to his birthplace if peace finally returns here?
"My life has already been destroyed by the turmoil. I don't even know whether my children would attend my cremation. They have their own problems. Coming back to Kashmir is a question of future. For persons of my age and plight, there is no future left," he said, fumbling for words.
Old age, deprivation, loss of social identity and detachment from his moorings are writ large on the wrinkled face of the man.
The India-Pakistan peace process and hopes of normalcy mean nothing for many like Safaya, whose tragedy is total and beyond comprehension.
"Wishing for cremation in Kashmir could also have political ramifications. I don't want to become another ugly poster for the politicians," Safaya said as he picked up his small bundle of Urdu newspapers from the newsvendor.
(F. Ahmed can be contacted at [email protected])