During one of my visits to Srinagar in 2005, I decided to
visit my erstwhile school. Our school, which was in the midst of Srinagar city
continued to run unabated even during the peak of the militancy and still
continues to run with a new name. It was surprising because most of the schools
run by KP's were either shutdown or razed to ground by Muslim
fundamentalists. There was a feeling among a certain section of the
Muslim society that these schools endorsed Jan Sangh and Hindu ideology.
They considered singing “ Vandey Matram” and “ Jana Gana
Mana” as unislamic. Many schools like Vishwa Bharti, M DASS, National Public
School and Kamla memorial school were either burnt or shutdown. As
I reached the school gates, I got nervous. I had spent my childhood here
playing cricket in the vast and enormous ground in the school premises. The
school was run in the premises of the famous Bhairav temple in Narsinghgarh. As
I was walking towards the school building, there was an adrenaline rush in my
body. All those scenes of my childhood suddenly started to unfold in front of my eyes.
As I looked up into the sky, I suddenly realised that I was looking
for Eagles. I loved the sight of flying eagles over Bhairav Mandir. I could
remember my father waving at these eagles with “SOOSH NAUR” (Lungs of sheep or goat) in his hands and
enticing them to snatch the same from his hands. I could remember how these
eagles one after another would come down in their majestic flights to snatch
the same from him. Feeding eagles with
soosh naur used to be an age old custom within Kashmiri Pundits as it was considered auspicious and a way to ward off all evils with the blessing of Bhairava. This ritual like other Kashmiri rituals lost its importance and relevance during the years
of our exile from Kashmir.
As I was approaching the school, I could hear the noise
of children. It was a very special moment for me. But all the faces were
unfamiliar. My eyes were looking for Pinky Madam, Kiran Madam, Sarla Madam,
Neelofer madam and last but not the least Nusrat Madam. Nusrat madam was so
beautiful that all of us used to look at her with great perplexity. Every boy
in my class had a crush on her. As I approached the principal’s room, a boy came up to me
and asked, “Aapko Kis sey Milna Hain”. I said, “ Principal Sahab”. He gestured
and asked me to knock on the Principals door. As I knocked I said, “May I come
in Sir”. A voice replied back, “YES”. I knew it was Mr.Sathu (Name Changed). I
was entering my principal’s office after around 16 long and painful years. I
was shivering and my heart was palpitating. It took me a little while to
realise that I was taking too much of time to walk inside. He again said,
“Please come in”. Next moment I was inside his cabin. He asked me, “Who are
you”. I said, I am Sachin Raina. Next moment he was up from his chair and in
front of me. I did not know what to do. Such was his aura that
I was compelled to do what I used to do everyday in our early days in school. I stood in attention like
a soldier does at the sight of his commander. I froze at one place. He then said,”
Stand at ease” in his usual style and baritone voice. He hugged me and I could see through his eyes what he was feeling.
I used to look up to him as a kid. As we were talking to each other, I could
see the kind of pain he had gone through. Although the school was running but
its name had to be changed to suit the whims and fancies of Kashmiri
fundamentalists. Suddenly he asked me, “So what do you do to earn a living“. I
said, “Sir I could not become a pilot”. He obviously had forgotten about that
during all these years. As we were talking, I asked him the reason for not leaving Kashmir all these years and why he went through all these
hardships and unfriendly moments. He chose not to answer. He had made this school into a big institution with his sheer grit and determination. Although one of his partners chose to leave Srinagar for good, he continued to nurture the academy and impart education to the wards of the people who were responsible for the ouster of his own brothers and sisters. However there were people from the Muslim community in the vicinity of the school who stood by him during tough times and did not allow him to leave valley and desert his school. Later during floods in 2014, when one of the old buildings of the school collapsed, locals and ex students from the Muslim community came forward to help him both monetarily and emotionally. Without any doubt he enjoys lot of popularity among locals. Lot of young girls and guys doing well in their lives owe their success to Mr. Sathu and his school. I must here mention his wife, Gauri(Name changed) who stood by him like a rock and backed his decision of not leaving Srinagar. She used to teach us Hindi. God knows whether she still teaches the so called HINDU subject or not. Probably NO.
After spending good
odd 2 hours with him, I asked for his permission to leave and left for my
hotel. I was happy to see my school and Mr. Sathu again. As I was puffing my
cigarette, I became nostalgic. Next day while going to the airport, I felt very
bad to leave Srinagar once again. This feeling of again being robbed of my home
and hearth by some gun wielding religious freaks working and delivering deaths
and devastation at the behest of their masters across the border crossed my
mind. Even after 27 years of our exile, we have nowhere to go. As time is
running out, I feel this feeling will be laid to rest only with my death. Till
then I will live with my worst fear and nightmare.
