In a march 1990 when I had to leave Kashmir, I was an unmarried youngster and now after a full fledged family of four. This fascinated me and I started putting everything across my children whatever beautiful passed on and touched my eyes.

I could see apple orchards, pear trees, walnuts hanging down the tree branches, big chinars along with their even bigger shadows, tall safedas, small and stontly willows, kikars with touchy cruel throns, plan and green rive/paddy fields having some small plots within for vegetable cultivation. Add to it the sight of lovely ‘Bulbul’ and shying ‘Maina’. All this reminded me of my youthful years when I was a part and parcel of the same combination.

In the evening we safely reached the good looking three storeyed house of Mr Mohd Sultan in Indra Nagar Srinagar where my brother in oaw early next morning. I could feel a difference in the quality of sleep in Kashmir.

Next half an hour and we were at Zeethiyar (the sacred abode of Maha Raghnya) behind the hills of Shankaracharya. So clam, so pious, so tranquil a place--that I only put the lids on my eyes : "concentration came automatically".

"Mata"--Be Benovolent on US

In the afternoon it looked very nice to roam on the roads of Lal Chowk and by the time it was 4 PM I alongwith my friend Jiganj Ji Goja and brother-in-law Ravi Shathoo were marrying in a Shikara in Dal Lake. Autonomy fever was at its peak.

Autonomy Wahonomy Kus Haz Mangam, Ye Kamis Haz Zaroorat, Ba Khuda Agar Amik Gam Kainse, (who asks for this autonomy watonomy? who is pleading for it? By God nobody here has anything to do with it.

Nazir, a shikawala said when I tried to discuss present day Kashmir politics with him. He was absolutely sore against the gun and the gun wielders. "Look it is 5.30 PM and this is the only third shikara which got its number to ply since morning--pointed Nazir towards ruthless Dal and exclaimed how Dal was badly missing the rush of tourists on its waters.

Next it was Nishat Garden and we went there as a group of four families. The gardener Mohd Ramzan ran to pluck off some roses and offered the same to us as a mark of welcome. On knowing that we were Kashmir, the sadness on his face could not be kept as a secret because a normal outside tourist would have given a handsome ‘Bakshish’. The little ones accompanying us were mesmerized by the beauty of the garden and they played and ran across it while I was carefully watching something. Just then entered two bearded gun wielding youths in plain dresses, leisurely walking and discussing something in Kashmiri. First, for a couple of moments I felt anxious but then came to know about their identities. They were government friendly militants--Ikhwanis.

The pilgrimage to Holy Mata Khir Bhawani on Har Ashtmi will remain on our mind set forever. We, as a group of six families went there on the preceding day (Har Satain). I went to arrange some blankets from stores of Dharmarth Trust there. I found the notorious militant Hamid Gadda’s uncle at the helm of affairs there. On Hara Ashtmi Holy Mata gave her blissful Darshan when a very beautiful and complete ‘OM’ of Rose petals-significantly surfaced on the flowing waters of the Holy spring there. It remained on the water surface for about 7 minutes. Luckily I managed to get my Camera clicked on this sacred ‘OM’--same evening we managed to trip to Chakrishwar temple at Hari Parbat. A Yagnya had been performed there on that day. We offered our Puja, performed Parikramas, bowed our heads before the goddess, took the Prasad and moved on.

The anxiousness to visit my village Mougham Pulwama was already brewing up. Mohd Ayub Mir my old friend from Ashminder Pulwama accompanied me there. Everything looked fit and five except the gory looks the houses of Pandits gave. Some burnt, some broken, some decimated and they rest about to collapse. Real ghost looks. My house had been burnt down in 1997. Naked smoke soaked walls, a portion of the roof top on ground floor (Talwa) is all what remains of a big lovely house. Some villagers assembled only to bid a farewell again.

Yet another pilgrimage to khrew (Mata Jwali Devi) had a point to ponder. When one of my kids offered some water on the lingam in the holy spring there, the local muslim children who watched all this whispered to one another. Ba Khuda has Yeman Moni Panin Nishan Yaad (By God they still remember)

A trip to Pahalgam filled everybody in our group with joy. Enroute we enjoyed a bath in Anantnag (Nagbal), had the blessings of Resh Mal Sahib and performed a Pari Krama at Surya temple and holy spring at Mattan.

My friend had a business acquaintance at Rozbal Khanyar. Both of us went to his home had a cup of tea, discussed prevailing situation with him. His son who had been kidnapped by the militants and released after gruelling torture accompanied us to Jama Masjid as we had to buy some fish there.

In between I, usually would take some time off to discuss the Kashmir problem and militancy with anybody be it, a milkman a meat seller, a vegetable vendor , a shopkeeper or a bus conductor. The political conciseness of an average Kashmiri his readiness to discuss things are surprisingly classic.

I had carried onto some 25 days in Srinagar and the only thing about which I personally felt bad was to see regular Army men regulating traffic on the roads. They definitely are not conditioned to it and it exposes them to the general public all throughout the day. I should be avoided.

I still was hanging around there than came the cease-fire declaration of Hizbul. Going by whatever I could gather from general masses all these days, the cease-fires looked like a culmination of the same viewpoint and the view point:- "Militancy tired people longing for peace now". And sure there didn’t seem or look to me any support for Farooq Abdullah and for that matter no body seemed to be a Hurriyat supporter. If Farooq is cursed here--so are the Hurriyat leaders cursed there. Leadership vacuum inspite of huge crowd of big politicians.