Both Faizan and Farhan are too young to understand the tragedy that struck the family. Without uttering a word, the two brothers glance at faces around them. Soon, the burial is completed and the duo taken back home, just opposite martyrs graveyard where their brother is laid to rest.
Faisal was one among the two boys killed in firing by Army in Chattergam, on the city outskirts, on Monday afternoon. While children of his age are usually fond of hanging out with friends and playing games, the 7th standard student, Faisal, was shaping into a religious scholar. At the tender age, he had memorized 15 chapters of the Holy Quran.
"Yes, he would occasionally lead prayers in the local mosque and had memorized 15 chapters of the Holy Quran," the soft-spoken Farhan uttered. "He was more like my friend. We would share sweets and watch cricket together."
For few minutes, Farhaan, who studies in class 5th and is wearing a traditional Pheran, keeps mum again. Then he remembers: "I would call him by the name of Burhaan. He was passionate about driving. I miss him.”
On the ill-fated Monday, Faisal had driven his father's car to Chattergam to see a Muharram procession. Three other boys from the locality including his cousin Zahid Ayoub, Shakir and Meraj-ud-Din too joined him. While Meraj also succumbed to the bullet injuries, Zahid and Shakir are undergoing treatment at the Army hospital here.
Minutes before he left the house on Monday afternoon, only to be brought dead, he along with his father, Muhammad Yusuf Bhat—a businessman—were arranging furnishing and curtains of a room on the first floor of their house, said Faisal’s maternal uncle, Mushtaq Ahmad. The family was preparing for a function on coming Sunday. “Faisal baya was to return to the school (Dar-ul-Uloom) on Monday,” responded Faizaan when asked him about his association with his brother. "No, we have never fought. Instead we would play cricket together, but he would always bat first. He would bat for longer time and then my turn would come. He would also share lays (snacks) with me.”
MERAJ, THE GENTLEST BOY
Neighbors remember Meraj-ud-Din as a gentlest boy in the locality and his colleagues described him as a friend of few words. A laborer by profession, Meraj had just stepped in his youthful days.
On the ill-fated Monday, Meraj of Bonpur, Nowgam finished his work early. He straightaway returned home and after taking lunch, went out. Hours later, at around 5 pm, his brother, Latief Ahmad rushed back home to inform his father, Ghulam Muhammad—an employee in the PHE department—that four youth, all from Nowgam, travelling in a Maruti car, were fired upon by army at Chattergam Chowk.
“He (Meraj) would never go anywhere and would always remain busy with his work,” his father says in a broken voice. “And I was sure he will be around.”
But minutes later, the father compelled Latief to call Meraj on his mobile phone to confirm about his whereabouts. “There was no response,” said Ghulam Muhammad, least knowing that his son and another local boy Faisal had already fallen to the Army bullets.
Next moment, the search for the son took the father out on the main road where he saw groups of youth discussing killings in Chattergam. “Every person in this area will vouch for his innocence. I assured myself that he (Meraj) will be safe,” he said.
But a group of young boys who were discussing that newspapers have reported (online) that one of the killed youth was Meraj increased his restlessness. He was not ready to accept the bitter truth. “I again called on his (Meraj’s) mobile,” he said. “This time a man, speaking in Urdu, asked for my identity. I told him I am Meraj’s father. He told me Meraj has been hospitalized and then the line got disconnected.”
For next few minutes, the helpless father repeatedly called on his son’s mobile but there was no response. Next time, he said, the mobile had been put on switch-off mode.
Caught between hope and despair, the scary thoughts caught hold of the father. At that moment one of his relatives informed him that they were going to see Meraj. “He said Meraj and other boys are injured and have been rushed to army hospital for treatment,” said Ghulam Muhammad.
For next half-an-hour the father kept hoping that his son would be safe. But, minutes later, a phone call shattered all his hopes. “Meraj and another boy have been martyred, they told me on phone,” he said, covering his face in his hands while silence drapes the room.
Few minutes later, this silence is broken by wailing mother and two sisters of Meraj, in another room. “Oh dear please come, we all are waiting for you,” Meraj’s mother wailed aloud.
Outside, young boys seethe in anger. “Look, how mercilessly they have killed them,” a burly youth displayed the photographs of blood-drenched bodies of the two boys on his mobile. “Can’t they have fired bullets at the tyres of the vehicle? The aim was to kill,” he said.
By Muddasir Ali
First published on GK on 04-11-2014
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