Even after 4-5 days of the abrogation of Article 370, I am not sure if I am happy or sad about it. Some people want me to have one of that emotion. If I am not having one, I am “unconcerned”. I really am confused.

Who am I actually to be happy or sad about it? I never felt the pain of the Kashmiris. May be I know the political and national importance of Kashmir being a part of India, purely from the geographical vantage that it gives to our defence. I grew up in a protected environment. Through childhood, I saw the maps of India, depicting PoK and Aksai Chin as part of India. It was only when I was in college, I came to know that these were Pakistan and China controlled in reality.

I had a couple of Kashmiri friends — pundits, who would tell us how they had to flee Kashmir. I also remember of a “Khan” — really I don’t remember his first name now. He was a coolie in Shimla. Once, as a kid, I tagged along with him from Jakhu to Sanjauli as he was hired to fetch a cylinder of LPG. On the way through Five Benches and the jungle, he narrated me stories of Kashmir. And what his Ammi used to say. It didn’t make much sense to me then. I was just about 10/11 years old.

His emotional reminiscence really didn’t make sense to me then. And the young friends, the Pundits led a protected life. They too were young to understand what was happening around. They had adapted well to the Delhi life and had new friends. Who am I to feel happy or sad when I haven’t faced the guns of neither the terrorists nor the Army?

I am trying to think logically from all angles. Reading more about it. The history, the policies. Etc etc. But there is one thought that’s been troubling me since the night before 370 abrogated… when Twitter was either bleeding red or planning for the aakhiri waar and there were some for whom the anxiety and tweets from Omar and other Kashmiris and the unsurety of the Indian government’s plan was nothing less than a thriller. I have been wondering since then and trying to ask myself: What do the Kashmiris (not the Abdullahs or Mehboobas or Geelanis) think? The Kashmiris — both Muslims and Hindus — who didn’t migrate for whatever reason and who live there. Are they happy? Will they be happy? Would they be happy? Can I really feel their pain to come to a decision if I am happy or sad?

There are two sides of the pain. One told by the Government of India and the other told by the Abdullahs and Mehboobas. But what is the local Kashmiri’s pain? Can I feel that? They say, there are two sides of the coin. But no one talks about the third side on which the coin holds up. Everyone sees the head or the tail. No one talks about this third side which holds up the two sides. This third side is too thin or irrelevant and can be ignored? The third side is that “Khan” from my childhood who represents the entire Kashmiris who don’t make much sense to me, because I haven’t suffered their pain. And I never will in reality. I can only empathize.

But to be honest, The Khan too was a good friend of mine. And I was too young to understand that friendship. He was pretty old then. I am sure he must have died by now. May you rest in peace wherever you are my friend.

And f*** you men (including some of my friends) who are seeing Kashmiri girls and women merely as objects to get married to. And to hell with you people who want to buy a plot next to the Dal lake. You are the guys who want to make hell of the heaven. You are the guys, Kashmiris have been resisting so far. If you really want to embrace Kashmiris, let’s make their life easier. Hopefully, they will embrace us too. Leaving you with an article, which to some point holds relevant to India as well. Not the execution part, but the thought behind the jingoism.