After hearing commotion outside, I remember my uncle closing our blinds and saying “aaz muud es” (Today we will die).
We heard “Agar Kashmir mein rehna hein, toh Allah hu Akbar kehna hein” (If you want to live in Kashmir, then you have to say Allah is Great).
“Hum kya chahte hein? Azaadi!” (What do we want? Freedom!)
Slogans blared from the loudspeakers of Mosques. Then started barbaric acts: killings of men in public, gang-rapes of women, dismemberment of bodies, and temple/idol breaking.
My father and uncle stayed back, saying “they are our brothers, we will be fine”.
I left Kashmir with him waving goodbye to me at the doorstep. I didn’t know it was the last time I would see him.
Terrorists kidnapped him, dismembered his body and burnt his body with cigarettes.
His body was delivered to the police. We got a post-mortem report saying he was also shot with bullets.
We never got to perform his final rites.
On this 19th, we remember my father, my uncle, every martyr, and our community.