She doesn’t want her last son to die like 19 of her relatives did—18 men and one woman—to violence in the Valley. She wants her grand-children to live. Sitting on the mud floor of her small hut in Ganderbal, 45-year-old Moghli Begum is as far as you can get from the table in North Block but ask her what the agenda for the Hurriyat-New Delhi talks should be tomorrow. And she is clear in her mind—and heart.
‘‘They have nothing else to talk about except one thing: how to take the gun out of the Valley. This gun has destroyed my life and my family. All our men died, leaving behind orphans and widows,’’ she says.
Her family shattered by the death of her husband, son, three brothers-in-law and several nephews in revenge attacks, Begum’s only act of caution is to lock the doors when daylight fades.
‘‘For all these years, we close our doors and windows at 6 pm and sit inside, hoping no one knocks at our doors,’’ she says, haunted by memories of the massacre of seven members of her family, who were herded out and killed in a nearby rice field by masked gunmen six years ago.
She believes it’s binding on both the Hurriyat and New Delhi to help bring an end to violence. ‘‘Our lives are destroyed,’’ she says, ‘‘but at least for future generations, we must give peace a chance. Let them both sit down and talk how to end this misery. I don’t want these orphans to live life under the shadow of fear and suffering as we did.’’ To underline her point, she gestures towards the flock of giggling children playing in the shack.
Begum is aware that things won’t change overnight. ‘‘It can take them a long time to solve the problems. But it’s better to engage in talks than to fight it out with guns and lose your near and dear ones.’’
A few feet away, her son, Mohammad Salim, 19, chips in, ‘‘If this violence continues, we may have to take up the gun to defend ourselves.’’ Just then, her mother breaks in, chiding her son for the remark. ‘‘I don’t have the courage left to see another tragedy. He is just too small to understand what it means to pick up the gun and fire. It just ruins lives,’’ she says.
Salim says that for peace to take root, militants need to be invited for the dialogue and if they are left out, he wouldn’t bet on the success of talks. ‘‘India has to show sincerity by inviting all for talks, including militants and other leaders. It’s only then that ceasefire can take place and people can talk freely.’’ Mother nods her head in agreement.
In the next room, glued to the TV, the oldest male member of the family, Manzoor Ahmad, 21, an orphaned cousin of Salim, believes, both parties have to climb down from their respective stands to work out a compromise.
‘‘This violence will never end if we go on blaming each other for the trouble as we have done all these years. Both sides have to keep in mind the tragedy that Kashmir has seen all these years and then, without emotions, sit down and discuss how to end the bloodshed.’’ says Ahmad.
He points to the graveyard, where 12 relatives are buried—six others buried elsewhere. Moghli Begum says, ‘‘When I look out of the window, I catch a glimpse of those graves. I hope nobody else has to suffer the same pain. And this is what the leaders should keep in mind while talking about our future.’’