I was named on a revolution…

It was a normal rustic day of August. My fourth day in a new city, away from home, away from family. Last night I had called my mother and had briefed her about my new academic class, professors, batchmates and how it finally felt to be surving from Bachelors to PhD. I also told her how kebabs which I always relished back in my hometown were made and prepared in a complete different way in the city where I thought I would never belong in my whole unified senses. But when I tried calling my mauji(Mother) the other side said and the number you called is either switched off or out of service. My mother who is very particular of her phone was out of service. I paced through the empty spaces of my hostel room, struggling through the what has happened dialect to what might have happened thoughts within the cosmos of myself. The news said and highlighted again for the one millionth time that the valley had been put under lockdown. Phones tapped and out of service. I was staring at the fan which was circulating the air through thousands of the rounds that it’s blades made as the armies in my hometown would have. I could imagine how the valley would look like. The bunkers wedded like brides, the end of the bullets in the gardens of the educationists, businessmen’s, entreprenuers, lawyers. The roads roaring the same azaadi slogan late till midnight”naaray Takbeer Allah hu akbar”, “hum kya chahtay Azaadi”, children writing on the stones 1 plus 1 is two, or 1+1 is India, the youth put behind the bars of their own homes. The flags hoisted. And amidst all these my family was out of service. Out of my reach. Past fifteen days, I called again , and the other side answered “the ghost town that you are calling is under curfew for 73 days”. My soul muttered “mercy” in the utmost cry. Though in my dreams, I send my albatross every time to the doorstep of my mother who says ” I am fine, my revolution”. And I replied hope you remember me. “My name is Takbeer and indeed I was named on a revolution . Indeed I was made to struggle alone, to know the heights, to know the dangers. Indeed I was Kashmir. Always a revolution”.