That dark afternoon, the accursed and haunted woods, the dreaded dusky clouds, the prickly pine leaves, the bawling brown and black bears, the wailing abode of Sakhi Zainudin Wali (RA), the sobbing lap of Amarnath bore witness to the gruesome carnage, when – Humanity fell prey to bullets.
Dreams were shattered in a jiffy, paradise got maimed horrendously, daggers were drawn deeper into bosoms of angels; sighs, cries and wails returned to the valley, grief and sorrow envenomed the air, eyes bled streams to paint the meadows red, dejection and melancholy exhausted the smiles, dastardly act of brutality and barbarism swallowed innocents.
Ah! That very moment – Everything came to a standstill, as if my nerves froze to ice. Exhibition of sheer cowardice and timidity by the perpetrators bruised my spine and pierced my heart. Pahalgam exsanguinated to the wicked terrorist attack.
The massacre is more than a bloodbath. It has dazed cheerful and lively yearnings, razed edifices of hopes, devastated human settlements. And more than that, lo and behold! Aspirations and longings stand strangulated. Buds and florets withered away too soon. Nightingales and thrushes have been muted and muffled.
Monal pheasants and orioles are chocked and gagged. Nests of skylarks and mynas have been ruined and desolated. Young chicks are waiting to get allofeeded in their tiny cradles, little aware about the eternal departure of their loved ones to heavens. Who will gather courage to let them know that the callous and fiendish fowler has caged their parents to an unknown and inaccessible captivity! Their last wish to meet their parents remains unfulfilled. The aggrieved progeny is lamenting the separation. Even the God has no answer to their wails and cries.
The flames of marriage pyre are still radiating warmth of love and eternal bond, but the song-birds have been silenced forever. The red-hot hues of Hina are vividly evident on the hands of the brides, but the bangles of promises, pledges and vows are broken into pieces. The ink on marriage contract documents is still wet, but the signatories have fled to woods unknown. White attires have become the fate of red Sarees. Vanished Vermilion (Sindoor) lines mark inception of their widowed lives too early. Pains, miseries and sorrows have been added to their palm-lines. Merchants of death and sorrow have made a cruel bargain with them.
Alas! The weak, old parents are struggling to carry the burden of coffins on their drooping shoulders. Mothers are decorating pyres and graves of their sons with sandalwood planks and daffodil saplings. Fear, dread and horror continue to resonate and reverberate into the environs. Hapless and helpless are crying in the wilderness.
Sighs and yells of bullet victims are enough to wrench and pierce hearts. Needle-like leaves of green pines and cedars prick hearts miserably. Serenity of the meadows no more solaces and tranquilizes the rusty souls. Red smear of sinless blood has spooked and imprecated the meadows. Hangul and deer are in utter shock. Lidder and Jhelum are groaning. Baisaran valley is bereaved; even the beasts of the woods are mourning the massacre of innocents.
The woods that bear witness to the carnage carry a sense of deep guilt and remorse. The elixiric herbs of the pastures have lost their healing properties to the smears of human blood. Butterflies have stopped to suck the nectar from the polychromatic blossoms to protest the atrocities inflicted upon innocents. Pines of the meadow are weeping bitterly as if they have lost their own brethren to indiscriminate bullets.
Chirping creatures of the land have fled away, annoyed custodians of the woods are yet to return back. Solitude and seclusion is spread over miles. Lustres, joys and ecstasies are gone! Monotony of grief has enveloped everything. The scintillating spring of my land is buried deep in the frozen cemetery, now, who will resuscitate it?
(The Author is a Teacher and a Regular Columnist. He can be reached at [email protected])
