A Near Death Experience.

Reader's Digest October 2003 carries an article on Page 80 by the name, "After Life". This article deals with stories of those persons who were declared dead but by some miracle they came back to life again. Robert Milham is one such person who says his heart stopped during a heart attack: "The pain was gone. I was suspended over my body. I was looking at myself lying on the stretcher and they were putting paddles on me". After a life of selfishness, he says his brush with death made him a more giving person. My case is also same but somewhat different. I am an inhabitant of the Valley of Kashmir known over the world for its beauty but acquainted with me as a beautiful prison or awesome concentration camp.

I as usual was going to tuition situated at a walkable distance from my home. As usual in the streets of Kashmir para-military, military and other counter insurgency forces are seen and we the inhabitants have got used to their sight. At that time I was stopped by a para military trooper. He ordered me to open my bag. I did as ordered and he started frisking me. "Daadi itni lambi kyon rakhi hai? Pir Baba ho kya?" (Why have you grown such a long beard? Are you a saint?). I said nothing. When he was satisfied he asked for my identity card. When I put my fingers in my pocket and started searching for my wallet which also contained my Identity card, I became aware of the fact that I had forgot my wallet at home. I told the trooper about my helplessness and tried to impress upon him that I was only a student and a law abiding citizen. I told him that I reside nearby pointing the direction towards my colony.

This didn't impress him and he ordered other student walking nearby to stop. He told the student where do you reside? He told in the same colony. Then pointing towards me he told the student that do you know him? He answered in negative. The trooper then became furious. "Mujhe Dhoka dene chala hai?" (Are you trying to deceive me?). I said apologizing: "I reside at the same destination which I told you". "Chal gaadi mein baith" (Go and sit in that vehicle). Now when he pointed over the vehicle I came to know from the vehicle that he was not an ordinary CRPF trooper but belonging to the notorious RR (Rashtriya Rifles) against whom majority of human rights violations are attributed. I tried to plead my ignorance. "Card kay baghair kyon hai. Agar koi tum ko maar dalega to kya hoga. Saala student hokar bhi rule maloom nahi". (Why are you without an identity card? If someone kill you who will identify you then. Even being a student you bastard don't know the rules). I tried to persuade him to let me go but all in vain. I told him I was getting late for tuition classes but he didn't paid any heed. He ordered me to go and sit in the vehicle. I did as I was ordered.

All thoughts of the past came ringing in my head. I thought of my parents, siblings, friends and relationships. I prayed to Allah to erase my sins as I came to believe that I would meet my Lord in just a couple of days. I began to think how these troopers were going to behave? Will they kill me and label me as a militant and this would be the best option for them as my bearded appearance will justify their claim. Will they torture me and release me? Or will I be subjected to enforced disappearance like thousands others and this would be most torturous for my family. I began to mourn my death. After some days my dead body will be handed over to my parents saying he was killed in an unknown operation. My killing will drew a lot of condemnation. My family would publish my obituary as "We regret to announce the matyrdom of Shaheed Mushtaq-ul-Haq Ahmad Sikandar at the hands of RR troops. He was loved by all and leaves behind him a large number of friends and admirers to mourn his loss. He was presently persuing his BA second year at Amar Singh College, Srinagar. His untimely death has left a void in our lives. He was always spreading fragrance by his jovial, humourous nature but fate crumbled this young flower which was yet to bloom fully. His funeral rites will take place at 11 AM today". At the bottom of the page would be an announcement: "Women are requested not to bring any kind of food item or fruits with them". I felt very sorry for myself and for all my friends. I was most concerned about my parents especially my mother who couldn't bear the shock of my death, I thought.

My friends will come to know about my death later. I have a friend Wani who is an early riser and insists that the paper must be available early in the morning even if it is not looked at. His father will bring the paper and Wani will scan on headlines and get to have a shower and when he will be having his breakfast when his eyes will fell on news of lesser importance. When he will get to page 3, he will stop and shout that Oh! Mushtaq my friend is dead. His parents will tell him to get ready to visit my house but Wani shrugging his shoulders would say, "I have to be at college by an hour as today are my practicals. We will Insha-Allah pay a visit at evening. Wani will be occupied all day by his engineering practicals and his family will stay at home.

Mehran, my other friend who is pursuing his architecture studies at Pune will come to know about my death after he will visit his home in his vacations. When Rouf will come to know about my death he will not close at any excuse his repairing shop of mobile phones. His parents will say, "Will you close your shop today?". I am afraid I can't just close as I had a consignment to be delivered today. If I have any time, I will drop in on the way or we can call on Sunday. Rouf will not come nor will many others for whom sorrow at my demise I had already felt sorrowful.

At 11 O Clock a little crowd will collect at my graveyard. Aijaz my friend who didn't believe in attending funerals but he had to hang around as a sort of social obligation. It will be distasteful to him. Aijaz and my other friend Shakeeb who also had the same ideology that death is an unimportant event. Aijaz will tell him where are you going. I am planning to drop at Coffee Arabica. Actually I also have to visit there for an appointment with my girl friend Anjum, will be the answer of Javed.

Just then a Mullah will come to perform the rites and I would be laid solitary in my grave covered with tons of soil. All are going to weep for a week and then I will slowly disappear from their memories but the eternal loss will be borne only by my family.

I was thinking about my girlfriend Aneesa, what she will do after my death. We promised to be only each others'. And when I am gone she would really have to marry somebody else. I began to think of Faheem who always tried to win the love of Aneesa for himself. But every time Aneesa let him down because she loved only me and me from the core of her heart. But now I am gone there were chances of winning her favor by Faheem. This thought was sending chill down my spine.

I was obsessed in these thoughts when a voice made me aware of my unconsciousness. Bahar Aaja (Come Out) ordered the trooper outside, I saw 8-10 of my tuition mates who had stopped and inquired from the trooper about me and told him that I was their friend. Then the trooper believed me and let me go on one condition that I will always carry my Identity Card with me.

I was among the fortunate ones to get out so I am able to pen down my NDE (Near Death Experience).

Author : Mushtaq ul Haq Ahmad Sikander.
(The author is a student of political science at Kashmir University and can be mailed at : sikandarmushtaq@gmail.com )

You know you are a Kashmiri When...

You know your Kashmiri when...

Chai must be had at least 4 times a day, in the morning, for lunch, at 4, and when you come back from work.
Weddings last for at least a fortnight !
All the women at your parties try to see who can talk the loudest.
You can hear their laughter and even the voh-vohs from the basement.
You meet a whole new line of families at Kashmiri gatherings.

You are going to be a daakhtar [doctor].
You drink nun-chai and eat kulchas.
You can pronounce tchzamun/ tchzarvan
Big noses/ Hooked noses run in your DNA, and if somehow you end up with a different one- people refuse to acknowledge you as a Kashmiri.

You know the correct pronunciations to the song, Rind Posh Maal...
When You know many kashmiri phrases such as
Trath Payin
Kya Gowm
Balai Lagey
Shikas Lad
You are the most politically aware kid in your school.
Your brother owns somekind of expensive video game player.
You think you can sing, but you really cant.
When any food you eat is subjected to the wazwaan test, which it inevitably fails. :)
When the first thing you wait for in the morning is to get the tchzot, bakerkhaani, kulcha etc. from the kaandhur's shop.
When double-tchzot is given to the spoilt brats, cuz they wont eat the traditional breads.
If you happen to pass all the uncles, you always hear them debating about Kashmiri politics.
Your knees have ached after hours of sitting around a thasanaari eating food.
You've spied on the wazaa's at your wedding before.
Everyone is your aunty and everyone is you uncle.
You have atleast once rode a crazy horse in Pahelgam or Gulmarg or have heard someone's tales about it.
You have been to Oberoi Palace for dinner.
You have been to Broadway for lunch.
Your cousin is getting married this summer, so you have to spend all year planning your outfit.

Wannabe Kashmiri's are not cool.
You hear bomb blasts outisde, and you panic. Your aunty reassures that they wont blast here and goes along with her daily chores. For some reason now, you are more scared.
You are always in search of the "vyaes"- the bone marrow :P
No meal is a meal without rice.
No meal is a meal without meat.
You never felt the need for having deserts after an enormous wazwaan.

You think you are the only person competent enough to call yourself an Aryan.
Kashmiri is the perfect code language in public places because NOBODY knows it.
You've grown up being extremely proud of you culture.
You are stylish.
When you are somehow related to that other Kashmiri.
You wear a sweater over your salwaar kameez.
When kashmir fights consist of going "ey ey ey"

Any news piece on Kashmir catches your eyes within 5 milliseconds of your flipping through the newspaper.
You don't know / cant find the Hindi/ English word for Monj-Haakh.
When your house is filled with Samovars.
You wonder what a samovar is doing at your Iranian/Russian friends house.
People are puzzled when you speak kashmiri.
You wonder why.

You prefer Shah Rukh Khan to Hrithik Roshan because he looks- oh so kashmiri and he is so called muslim!!! similar is the case with cricket you support Pakistan because they are muslim no matter how bad they play!

When all the Kashmiri woman talk, no one can hear what anyone else is saying.
Your mom walked to Presentation Convent together with [insert friends name here]'s mom when they were kids.
You find it hilarious when your watch Kashmiri soap operas and they are trying to act romantic.

When Sweety sweety drai duty is your favorite theme song.

Punctuality is for Caucasians
Your dad told you that you were the prince/princess of Kashmir when you were a kid.
You grew up believing him.
You know all about the India-Pakistan separation.
You are close friends with Kashmiri Political Figures.
Your mom doesn't let your dad go into politics.
People respond with "where's that?" when you tell them where your from.

You made a Kashmir stall at your school's cultural fests.
Your house is filled with Kashmiri rugs and furniture.
You are sure to bring in the kashmiri connection to anything and everything.
You are irritated when your french manicure is stained yellow from the wazwaan food.
When you dont own any naked baby photos, but have many photos of you in a traditional kashmiri dress taken in NishatBagh.

You eat softies at Zero Bridge.Your dad ate softies at Zero Bridge in college.
Your whole family knows the guy who owns the Softy shop at zero bridge.

When you have rode a shikara on dal lake, and then your driver got into a fight with the guys cuz he was asking for 5 more rupees.

(If you live abroad) You wake up on Saturday mornings because your mom is calling somebody in kashmir and even the neighbors can hear what she's talking about.

You go to sleep while the dogs howl to the moon.
You are always glued to the TV for every single cricket match and then complain that the captain did no good job.
You click 'add to dictionary' when spell check cant recognize your name.
You do this to every computer you lay your hands on.

Inputs: Shakeeb Ashai

Further Additions: Aditya Dhar (facebook)

- You know u r a kashmiri when u enter ur house and ur Mom says- Aakha Tchu.
- You go to a Khandar and some strange old lady with a bushy hairy mole (just below her nose) will Kiss you right left and center and say- Mai ma zaanakh, bu che chain maas.
- In those same Khandar's U will see Kumbh Ka Mela next to Roghan Josh and Kaliya stalls. Then everyone will make a heap of it on their plates as well as in Dust-Bins.(As an experiment we should invite Menka Gandhi to a kashmiri wedding- Apne Hathyaar chod Bhaag khadi hogi)
- This is the way Our Uncles will always pronounce the following words
Six- SIKIS
Construction- Canastruction.
Help- Helap
- Our relatives Love using Kashmiri words while talking to someone non kashmiri - Raste mai mera toh myada he kharaab ho gaya, Taichi taichi lag gai.
- Literal Translation of Kashmiri Abuse:-
Che pai Ghuss Trath- May a Bolt of Crap fall on U.(Pure Genius)

Alec Smart asked :Do Kashmiri have a tag 'Kashmir' stamped on their forehead?
Shakeeb Replied : A Kashmiri can be recognized from many in a crowd if you cant recognize listen to their pronunciation.

Asrar Murder Case Solved| Orkut, Girl and Cable TV to blame

The Editorial Of 16th July Greater Kashmir.. Written exactly as I would have...

True to adage ‘give credit to the disagreeable’ it needs to be agreed that the state police with some of its members having earned it disrepute has more than once proved its professional competence. Police on Tuesday claimed of having solved the sensational murder of Asrar Mushtaq a youth from Maisuma, who had gone missing on 3 July 2009 and four days later his body was found near Sheikh Colony in Mallakah. The boy according to police was murdered by two of his buddies and the cause for the murder was a girl student. Both the missing and killing of the body had provoked widespread demonstration first in the uptown where people had suspected hand of some government agency in the mysterious death of the youth and then it had spilled over to other parts of the city. There were widespread protests all over the city against the mysterious death of the student. Students in various colleges not only boycotted the classes but also took out protest rallies in many parts of the city. The incident had caused violence in many parts of the city with youth indulging in stone pelting and dings dong battles with the police and the paramilitary forces. Many youth with serious injuries were wounded. The disturbances not only affected the daily wagers but also took a toll of the state economy. It is not first instance when a simple crime by an individual or a couple of people have triggered massive public protests. A similar situation had arisen when an auto rickshaw driver from the same locality had gone missing and was later found dead in Bemina or a trader from a posh area was done to death by one of his nearest relatives. Such incidents of crime call for an introspection from people, pulpit and politicians. There is need to understand that if people are not getting hypersensitive. And are working against their own interests."There are some parents with lots of easy money that inflate the purses of their children without knowing where and how they were spending that money. It is parents who are by and large responsible for the waywardness of their children." The murder of the Maisuma youth has many a lesson in it which need be learnt coolly by all section of our society. It has a lesson for people, pulpit and police. The incident which in many ways is similar to one that occurred about two months back in a posh area where two aberrant youth ran over a car on a girl student and killed her. The incident at that time had pricked conscience of a section of society who had reacted but as has always happened in our city the response proved effervescent. It died after the activists and women NGO’s who had agitated over the incident came under arc lamps of publicity-perhaps what they wanted. There is need for launching sustained movement against moral degradation in a section of our youth more particularly from the affluent and well-to-do families. True both parents and priests have a role to play but more importantly it is the parents who will have to monitor the activities of their children. There are some parents with lots of easy money that inflate the purses of their children without knowing where and how they were spending that money. It is parents who are by and large responsible for the waywardness of their children. There is need for starting a reformative movement in the educational institutions for reforming the new generation and putting them on much needed linear tract. The lesson for the police is that it has been but for its credibility crises that such cases of crimes assume the dimensions of public movement and bring lots of miseries to the people of the state. Police in the state will have to work hard to improve its acceptability with people.
The incident also has an important lesson for common people. Should we allow such simple individualistic crimes to take entire society as hostage? The incident should also stir the conscience of the political workers espousing a cause that if by observing strikes on such individual incidents they were not working against their own cause. The knee-jerk and imprudent reactions have always proved counterproductive to the collective interests of the people. Much before reacting to such incident the political leadership needs to think twice before giving a protest call or supporting any strike by an individual. In fact they should stand up against the vested interests that always remain on a hunt to exploit such incidents.

Alec Smart said: " Oh No!! I am on orkut as well and I blog on very serious issues. Are they going to kill me next"


With good intentions,
Qazi Mamoon
Qazi Mamoon is co editor Koshurpinta.com and can be reached at:
www.eldinbleze.blogspot.com
www.qazi.synthasite.com

Interesting stories of the sick!

Kashmir has been a witness to all sorts of medicinal practices. Just narrate your symptoms to one Kashmiri and he will come up with a long list of 'What-to-do' and 'What-not-to-do' besides coming up with a perfect diet plan commonly called as 'Parhez'. But long gone are the days when there were the Hakeem's to cure us; now we are at the good humor of the local doctors. Our beloved GMC is busy in producing doctors every year- the doctors who have the Kashmiri blood flowing through their veins. I recall something which Prof. Mir Bashir used to say often. (Pity now I have stopped going there)

“The students who are presently studying in GMC don't know what it takes to be a doctor. Instead of reading the book Grey's Anatomy which has detailed information on everything, they prefer a smaller book by an Indian author-Chaurasia. A doctor is supposed to know everything about your body. But imagine the same doctor who somehow earned his MBBS (by cramming from the already cut down book by Chaurasia) sitting in front of you and telling that he will your surgeon.”

As Bashir Sir says, “Yeli mohalla menz che pakaan yimm Ha che Thawaan nari peth apron te mohalla walen hawaaan roub”

~They put their aprons on the forearms when they move in their locality such that the other people will begin to respect them.

But before I jump into the depths of this post here something which you might have heard of..

If something starts happening in your tummy, the area around stomach and the intestines, ahmm-I am pleased to tell you that “Garmi chai gamech”-- Heating has happened.

Then there is the endless parade of the special Kashmiri Chai (nun' Chai) into your tummy to fight the heat culprits and make you well again.

Speaking of the Kashmiri explanations, the loss of appetite or weight, general weakness, abdominal pain and many other non specific symptoms has been attributed to 'naaf dallun', best translated as the movement of the naaf.Speaking of the Kashmiri explanations, the loss of appetite or weight, general weakness, abdominal pain and many other non specific symptoms has been attributed to 'naaf dallun', best translated as the movement of the naaf. But what is naaf. Naaf is nothing but the 'centre of gravity' of an individual. Whatever the explanation, patients with these symptoms are usually treated by the expert on the subject called as the 'naaf mae'trawun woul'. The very title suggests as if the naaf had moved from its original position which was being remeasured and re adjusted. The gentleman usually a peer puts his heel or a warm cup of water on the belly button of the patient and press hard. Simultaneously he would chant some verses; sometimes even a green twig is taken and slowly stirred in the cup.. And yes, somehow the patient gets cured.

So has anyone imagined the phenomena of displaying medicine bottles on the window sills. The Kashmiris with their 'self-pity' attitude consider it better to display the medicines prescribed to them by the 'Doctor Saheb'.

Not only does it does it spoil the medicine and make it unfit for consumption but it also helps bring supplies to the household.

It is also worth mentioning the story narrated to me by Dr. Muhammad Yahya Alvi MRCP consultant Physician. After his appointment as a doctor he started his private practice in Nawapora in downtown (popularized as She hare-Khans by one ordinary newspaper). A middle aged man with stomach ache consulted him for which he was prescribed an antacid preparation in liquid form.

But a koshur should get a full value of his fees. And there is no power on earth which can stop him from doing so.. So what if the other patients are waiting. He started asking about 'parhez'

'Be hekhe' haz zamut dod khyeth?”-{Can I eat 'Born Milk' (curd I mean)}

“Yea”, came the reply from Dr. Alvi.

“Karnai haz kine kaerith?”-{Unboiled or Boiled}

“Kareth”-{Boiled}

Seeming very happy with the answer he headed towards the door but stopped and turned back.

“Doctor Zamut Dod is NOT boiled!”

Dr. Alvi replied, “Why the hell did you then ask?”

The experienced doc thought that he had seen the last of him when he moved out of the room to reenter after 10 seconds waving the prescription in his hand and asked ,

"And what do I do with this?"

By this time Dr. Alvi's patience was on the limit of exhaustion and he replied,”Nael traw(Put it round your neck) Please go and make a Taweez (amulet) out of it..”

Many years later Dr Alvi after returning from his overseas stint, which included a few years in the UK, was confronted by the same gentleman who stated that, “ I saw you some years ago and you gave me a liquid for my stomach. The pain went after I used the medicine for a few days.. In addition,

I made a Taweez of the prescription which I wore round my neck during this time. I have been symptom free all along until a few months ago, when I lost the Taweez and the pain has returned. Could you please write the same prescription for me, so that I could use the same medicine and wear the prescription round my neck.

He came back a week later and happily reported that he had improved a lot and that all was well now. Dr. Alvi asked for the prescription and he showed it as it was like a Taweez round his neck and said, "Just what you had asked me to do with it" I said, "Did you take the medicines?" "Which medicines? You never gave me any" he replied promptly. At this point he was sure if he told the guy that he had done wrong he would be shattered so Dr. Alvi told him, "Well done now keep it their for the next 11 days which will make it 21 days then after Fajar Prayer drop it with writing down in a stream and watch it disappear and you will never get the disease again"

Alec Smart said: " If Calpol is given for headaches, does that mean we give zangpol for legaches "

Original posted at : http://eldinbleze.blogspot.com/2008/05/interesting-stories-of-sick-i.html

written by : Qazi Mamoon