Journey To Home

Out of all the countless business trips that Asif had made to Kempegowda International Airport, it was never for home. His memory of home was in crumbles having left the place a decade ago. Circumstances were not in his favour when he left Shopian. His mother has passed away and his family was mourning.

"Father, I got into NLU, Banglore, " he said to his father timidly. "Your rank is out?" asked his father indifferently. "Yes, two days back. I heard it's a good place," Asif replied.

"Isn't it too far away from Shopian? How about Delhi or Jammu, we have our house there...."

"I want to go there. It's far from Kashmir."

"If you insist, then it must Almighty's desire as well."

The flight landed after three hours on Sheikh Ul Alam International Airport. He then rented a car from the airport to his hometown. It was twenty-one kilometres drive and he stopped in between at a dhaba.

"Salaam Alaikum, can I have a plate of Rogan Josh and Naan, " he said to the waiter. While he was waiting for his food, he overheard a group of people chatting. "The incident happened with you was sheer injustice. Had I been in your place, I would have gathered my community and beat up that son of Gujjar. How dare he do that! First they are exempted from paying the taxes now they do this?" said a man smoking hookah. "What could I have done son! These unsettled present situations and then these trivial misunderstanding, what to deal with? It would be kinder on my end to leave these scumbags as they are," said the older man.

Asif tried to ignore the group and concentrated on his food. Another man continued, "People say we shouldn't sterotype this community and should keep our mind open but brother isn't stereotypes based on some truth?" The person next to him smoked the hookah and said, "Stereotypes my foot, these are facts. The coloniser also labelled them as criminals. These gypsies have no fraternity, no sense of responsibility, all they do is steal from government and tax payers.

Asif's blood was boiling with each passing comments. He had self-controlled himself to not fight with them. Gobbling up, he paid the money and left. The hands of clock have moved progressing years but society hasn't changed the stands.

Back when Asif was in school, things were the same. Classmates having pocket groups of pahadi and non-pahadi. Teachers' biasness and the school authorities promoting discrimination. It was these circumstances that made him determined to move from Kashmir to a more secular place.

He hardly remembered the route to his home. Maps didn't help much and he had to ask passerbys for directions. Every metre he came closer to his destination, people gazed at him as if he asked the route to a forbidden place.

After quarter of an hour asking around, he was finally able to trace a path he took to school. He speeded towards this path and reached home.

The rusty gate creaked as he opened it to enter, the leaves crunched as entered the porch and the door was open. Expecting someone to be inside, he barged in only to find it empty. "Our compound was always bustling with people and cattle. What on earth has happened here?" he thought to himself.

Suddenly, he heard a familiar noise. The cattles were being brought by a cowherd. Upon seeing the man he immediately recognised him. "Hamid, is that you?" he asked. "A...a...s...if?" he recalled. "Who else do you think?" Asif replied tearing up. He and Hamid were classmates till the latter left studies. His grazed cattle for land-owners at a monthly fees or food supplies.

"Look at you, in the garb of a tourist. Uncle prediction were accurate, only he thought you wouldn't return," he revealed and hugged him. The hug was warm and nostalgic unlike the formal handshakes of the city. "Where is Abba? And Daddu? They left the door open as it is," he inquired. "Either they would be in the mosque or in the yard supervising the harvesters. As for the house, it empty after your sisters left for abroad, " replied Hamid.

"And what about you?"

"Married with third child on the way. My oldest is 1st standard and my second will start school from next year."

Meanwhile Asif's father Mr. Zubeen Noon, returned from his rounds in the apple yard. The father and son saw each other and smiled. The relationship dynamics they shared between each other didn't not permit them to share affection openly. Still they missed each other.

"Why did you leave the entrance open like that, what if someone would have gotten inside?" he cautioned his father. "Hah! Stealing from a criminal tribe member, is this what the world has reduced to be," he joked. "Where is Daddu?" Asif asked trying to start a conversation. "Abbu? He is in mosque praying for all of your well-being. While you abandon him during his old age," commented his father. Asif felt embarrassed. His was the closest to his Daddu and often thought about him.

"I met Inaya baji in Ontario. Sudhir also visited me when he came on the business trip to Bangalore," he tried to divert the conversation. "Sudhir is nice man and so is Anmol. We are lucky that both of your sisters got good husbands that too within the community, " his father beamed.

It wasn't till later in the evening after the sun went down, his grandfather returned. He ran down his fingers through the long mehndi coloured beard while chanting the name of Allah along the way. Asif waited for him in the living room. Recognising him immediately, he hugged his grandson and wept. "What took you so long, my dear child? This old eyes almost went blind yearning for you. Now that you have come stay here for at least a month," he insisted.

"Abbu, people precise plans as to how many days they will give their family . Isn't it Asif?" taunted his father.

"I will be here for a week, Daddu."

"Of course, sahabzade is extremely busy. Otherwise ten years to visit his hometown? How did you remember us son? Why this gracious to us?"

"Zubeen, shut your mouth, ten years or ten lifetime, him returning to the place is what matters the most. Aren't you making his favourite dishes? My daughter-in-law would have whipped up something for her beloved son," scolded his grandfather.

After an satisfying dinner, Asif lied on his bed thinking about the times he had here. Banglore has a lot of offer no doubt but his hometown wasn't bad either. Maybe he could have visited it earlier. All these throughs drifted him to sleep.

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