Accepting

The next morning, Asif wake up to a booming voice. The house which was empty and daunting yesterday now had elders and young men sitting across the hall discussing seriously over cups of Sheer Chai.

"Meet my grandson Asif, he returned from the South yesterday. Asif these are the men from our community. Don't worry they just came here to discuss about the migration," said his grandfather introducing each other. "You know one of my grandson works as an electrician there. Where is the place, something with letter T," remarked one of the elder. "It must be Tamil Nadu, I work in Karnataka as a corporate lawyer, altogether a different state and job," Asif explained. The elder became mum.

"So it is decided, wheather the season changes or not, we are doing our annual migration to Rajauri the next month. Is there anything else to say?" his father asked. "But Abba, Daddu and rest of the elders, will they be able to take the journey? How does it matter as to where we stay for the winter?" questioned Asif.

"Migrating from Kashmir to Jammu and back has been a tradition. We have permanent homes at either places but many don't. Some either have built houses in Jammu for their winter retreat or here for summer cool off. As for elders like us, we have underwent larger difficulties than you youngsters might ever face, " replied his grandfather.

"Well said Wahid sahab. Not to mention our fathers and forefathers faced retaliation to not have a permanent home yet they persevered. We did our own contribution to the freedom struggle whether overlooked by people or not," added another elder.

Asif wasn't fully convinced of the argument but didn't want to agitate the elders. He nodded and left the room to prepare breakfast. The discussion went on for a while. Then people started to excuse themselves for daily chores and at last his family was left. Asif re-entered the room.

"Keep your individuality to yourself. Over here we work as a community. Migration is fruitless to you it seems, " scoffed his father. "I was just point out the pointlessness of this journey. If I hurted anyone's sentiments, I apologise," Asif said in retaliation. "Calm down both of you! Asif, come sit here beside me," called his grandfather.

"You know, I named you after my grandfather, once the leader of Gujjars in our region. Our generation and my father's revered him. He too was concerned about the well-being of the community. We were treated the worst in his era forcing him to take drastic measures for the betterment of our people. It didn't end well, " he recounted.

Asif's grandfather then told him the story of Asif Noon, his grandfather. After hearing the tale, he beamed with pride about his ancestors and ran his fingers through his beard. He then got up and removed a tin trunk from his selves and handed it to him. It contained a burnt salwar-kameez, talisman and various other equipments used during that time. Enlightened Asif now saw his identity in a new light. All this while he had been running away from his surname but today, he accepted it with glory.

After a week long stay in Shopian, a changed Asif boarded his plane to Bangalore. The first thing he did after resuming his work was to re-write his name tag as Asif Noon. He called up the researchers and invited them for a lunch promising to narrate his experiences. He understood that he cannot become a changed man overnight but he is ready to accommodate the newfound respect for his tribe and share this with the world.

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