Mutilated Return

MUTILATED RETURN

 MUSHTAQUE B. BARQ -

Clouds had overshadowed the glimmering glances of the sun and the nature seemed to prepare a stage for something unusual for it was getting darker and darker with a drizzle making it horrible. Ashraf opened the window to have a glimpse of the Square just a few steps ahead of the main gate. He called his son Amjad to bring home milk and bread for morning tea. “ Dis BicharisTainShungna” his mother pleaded”. (Let the poor kid sleep longer). Ashraf raised his voice that jerked out Amjad out of his. “Abu Aab Cha Tot” asked Amjad. “Yes”, replied Ashraf. As usual Amjad took too long to finish. As he finished, Ashrafshouted, “ Do bring milk and bread”. Amjad took the money from his father and made his way to the market. As he stepped out to the street, it started to rain heavily and Ashraf shut the window and opened the newspaper. His mother dashed into his room, adjusted his books, kissed his uniform, touched his photograph. She made the room to look fresh as if a bridegroom has to step in.   After a while Amjad returned and informed his father that a group of hooligans was out in the Square. “Don’t go out” advised his father. He called out to his mother to prepare the morning tea. Meanwhile, Ashraf and Amjad shared the newspaper. There was a cry in the kitchen, Amjad hurriedly rushed to kitchen followed by his father where the cat had already sipped fresh milk to its fill. Amjad drew the cat out, while Ashraf helped his wife to clean the floor.  Ashraf asked Amjad to fetch the milk and a pack of cigarettes. Amajd hurriedly moved out humming a tune.A mysterious smile played on his lips.
 Just after a few minutes there were slogans followed by a teargas shelling. Ashraf opened the window to checkout but could not see anything for it was raining heavily. More tear gas shelling followed by gunfire and soon curfew was imposed that made Amjad’s return impossible. The unrest multiplied in the family as Amjad was out there on the road without carrying his cell phone that made the situation more miserable. The rain multiplied the woes of the family for Amjad had not even carried umbrella along. “BichoorAasimBodmut”( The poor child would be all wet) screamed his mother. Ashraf was too absorbed with the paper that he could hardly comfort his wife. “ NaarLogaAthAkhbarus, TalsaThodWothNachvis Di Nazar”( Hell with this paper, let you go and look for your son) asked his wife.
Ashraf tried to go out to see his son but was not allowed to move for there was a strict curfew in force. He called Faiz,Amjad’s friend to know the whereabouts but Faiz was still indoors. The thunder terrified every one and the lightening that followed made it more frightened. The natural roar was followed by continuous gunfiremaking people feel to have lost their lives. Ashraf and his wife were almost dumped in the corner of kitchen for it was a war like situation outside with their son out under the cloudy sky. Amjad’s mother cried in despondency for there was a fresh teargas shelling, a few hitting the window panes of Amjad’s room filling it with smoke, burnning few books and his uniform. The room looked like an old barn with books shattered, clothes half burnt and walls as if bruised. The uniform was turned into ashes, Amjad’s mother held the remnant of it with love and affection with her eyes flooded with tears. As Asraf tried to extinguish the fire, there was aphone call, tunning “ KatuChukNoundBanieWaloMashooqMeianie” Ashraf received the call, it was Faiz, Amjad’s friend informing them that Amjad was seen running for safety across the river. Ashraf requested Faiz to make it possible for him to talk to his son. “Don’t worry I will try my best to make it possible” Faiz replied. The call soothed Ashraf and his wife.
The burning of books and uniform had shattered Amjad’s mother for she had lost hope thus deepening Ahraf’s agonies. He was trying to console her and his eyes appealing at the Heaven to bring his son back.Ashraf called on Faiz if he had any information. “No Uncle, I am not getting Rizwan who actually had informed me”. “Give me his number I will talk to him”Ashraf requested. As he called Rizwan he was informed that four boys were dead and the person on the call informed Ashraf that he had found this phone near a dead body on the road side across the river Jhelum.  “Yet again the river has witnessed bloodshed”, sighed the caller.  Ashraf lost his senses and cried bitterly and requested the person on the call to check out who the four boys were. As Ashraf dropped his phone his wife wailed bitterly that drew the people out to console her. Ashraf called again and he was informed the four dead bodies carried off by police. Ashraf cried bitterly and wished that his son might not be the one in red clothes to be carried home dead. His wife tore her pheran and started beating her chest till a few ladies arrived at the scene and tried to comfort her.
One of the neighbors called on the police station and he was informed that all four dead bodies were lying in the control room for final identification. The kind neighbor requested the concern police officer to help him to be carried to the control room to identify one of the boys of his area. He was allowed to go where he identified the poor bullet ridden body of Amjad lying on the floor. He didn’t inform Ashraf. “Oh! God what should I say to Ashraf” lamented the neighbor. He informed his son about this who conveyed the death of Amjad to his parents.  The kind neighbor carried the dead body amid heavy rains. As the police vehicle stopped near the main gate of Ashraf’s house, his wife almost peeled her skin off; her face was all bruised and scratched all over.Ashraf lost his consciousness for he could have never thought that he had to carry his son to the grave, the burden beyond his capacity. His mother kept repeating that he was not a terrorist, but an obedient son. She kept saying “Who will carry my dead body to grave Oh Son!”.Amjad was buried amid wet eyes and noisy rains.