An open letter to my father
Reports of rising COVID-19 cases have raised the spectre of 2021 when the country was caught in the crosshairs of a ferocious disease that claimed millions of lives across the globe.
On this day in 2021, you gave in to the diseases that had baffled even the finest minds in medicine. Now, it has been four long years without you. But I know you must be waiting for this letter in the heavens. I had promised to keep you posted about this world — people, politics, and all that continues to unfold in your absence.
So, be all ears, there is so much to tell you Daddy . I am sure curiosity must have gotten the better of you by now.
The Assembly elections were finally held after a long-drawn-out President's Rule. The announcement of polls had lit up people's faces as they were fed up with the bureaucratic rule to the back teeth. The polls were conducted in a free, fair and peaceful environment. The campaigns rang with a heady mix of old and freshly minted slogans. Some caught fire so swiftly they seemed to take on a life of their own — whispered in alleyways, chanted in rallies, and made long threads on social media.
Accusations, mud-slinging and fiery rhetoric were on full display. Poll veterans, turncoats and new entrants all threw their hats into the ring. The National Conference swept the polls, winning 42 seats, a performance reminiscent of 1996, when the grand old party secured 40 seats. Omar Abdullah was sworn in as the Chief Minister. He took oath in the Union Territory (UT) and only he knows what it truly means to lead in such a complex and constrained setup. The lawmakers of what was once a powerful Assembly now feel disempowered, their roles significantly diminished under the new political framework of a Union Territory. The return of statehood remains a distant dream, which only echoed in political speeches but lacking any concrete timeline. Once hopeful, the people of Jammu and Kashmir now appear increasingly disillusioned as promises remain unfulfilled and their democratic aspirations unmet. An unsettling silence has descended upon them. Yet, everything seemed to be moving smoothly until the serene meadows of Baisaran were turned into a site of massacre.
The bullets punched holes in the fragile fabric of peace. 26 lives were cut short and the ripples were felt throughout the Valley. It made people go weak in the knees. People hit streets to express their outrages. However, their voices were drowned out by the noise of bellicose television anchors. Narratives were crafted from lies that, over time, wove themselves into widely accepted home-spun truths.
There are no good messages to be telegraphed. We recently saw drones flying in the skies. The small machines carry munitions that could kill people. I am sure you haven’t witnessed such a thing in all your 69 summers of life. Are you still worried about the economy there? If so, I must say it has yet to show any green shoots. Everything has changed, Daddy, and yet nothing really has.
The rivers still flow, the political class remains busy crafting false narratives, and the promises live on while the actions fade away. Life moves on—but so do the lies.
Rest in peace! I will keep you posted.
( Author lost his father Mohammad Yousuf Bhat in 2021 to COVID 19).
