I remember - my memories from war, conflict, and violence

?? TRIGGER WARNING: This post talks about the author's experience with terrorism, conflict, riots, and death in quite a bit of detail. If you get affected by these things, please be warned.

One

I remember standing on the terrace, looking down a procession, in it, a mother carrying a 2-year-old child, wrapped in white cloth, blood-soaked, she was wailing. There were more bodies, everyone who was home that night was dead, 7 people I think. All we knew was that someone had entered their home, put an AK-47 on the forehead of the child and the rest of the family, and blown their heads to shreds. The mom wasn't home that night.

It was the early 2000s, and I must have been 8 or 9 years old. I remember feeling curious as the procession slowly moved by, and then we just moved on with the rest of the day. It was Poonch, these things were common.

I remember playing badminton on my terrace and suddenly hearing a loud screeching noise followed by a loud bang. A shell from a howitzer had just dropped around 100 meters away from us. I could see the shell coming, I could hear the shell coming, I saw the shell explode, I heard the shell explode. I remember running for cover. I remember shrapnel falling everywhere, like hail, as we were huddled up. I remember people, my neighbors, telling me that this might kill us. Then positively adding - but don't worry, only if we don't take cover. I remember going to our basement and staying there for some time. I remember, covering the windows of the basement with sandbags. I remember, coming out the next day, and going back to the same terrace to collect the shrapnel.

This is what it looks and sounds like.

I remember sitting at my shop one day while my grandfather went home to have lunch. I remember someone screaming that the terrorists had attacked the palace near our shop. I remember everyone running away from the palace. I remember everyone screaming that there were terrorists. I remember running back home, telling my grandfather that this had happened, and I remember him telling me, so, you just abandoned the shop, you were supposed to stay there, these things are mostly a hoax. As it turned out, nothing happened, some said it was a hoax, and some said, that the terrorist couldn't find the right entry point.

I remember hearing gunshots. I remember that there was a match that day - India v. New Zealand, 2003 CWC. It was a holiday too, Murahrram. I remember sitting in my kitchen, trimming my nails, and then all of a sudden - gunshots. And then explosions. And then a roaring noise that only a crowd in panic can make. I remember a family member running in from the main gate and telling us that a hotel near our house, around 100 meters away, had been attacked. The word "attack" in our area meant that terrorists had taken a building under their control and now it would be a battle to the death.

I remember army men coming to our house searching for places to mount their machine guns and rocket launchers. Our neighborhood had a direct line of sight to the hotel. They chose to hoist it on our neighbor's terrace. I remember the battle going on for the whole day. I remember climbing to the terrace under cover and using binoculars to see the terrorists with my own eyes. I remember seeing the terrorist throwing a grenade down from the balcony of one of the rooms. I remember a huge puff of dust followed by the loudest bang I had ever heard in my life. I remember climbing down and crying. I remember going to the basement and asking my mom, would we live? I remember her crying.

(Link to the incident - I could find it because of the match.)

I remember going to a picnic near the LOC, we had a farmhouse there. My family sent me to get water from a well. I remember going there alone. I remember looking at the well, bowing down to fill the jar, a bomb going off nearby. The water started shaking. I remember getting scared and panicking, only filling the jar to half its capacity and returning. I remember taking the half-full jar to my family back at that picnic spot. And then I remember one of the people in my family asking me why the bottle was half full - were you too scared of the bomb? I remember laughing about the whole incident while I was there and then going back to fill the jar again.

(The picnic place )

I remember, looking at the sparks go off on one side of the hill, and realizing that a Bofors had been fired. Based on how loud it was, it could only be Borfors, the elders said. I remember the shells traveling right above us, making a whizzing sound, and dropping on the other side. I remember the same happening from the other side to our side. I remember going to see where these guns were put up the next morning. I remember coming home the next night and enjoying the light and sound show, again.

During the day, we could see the dust go off on the hill where the shell landed, at night it was just a sound. I remember they said, "If you have heard the sound of the shell, that means you are all right". Because, if you were hit, you wouldn't hear or feel anything.

(This is Bofors firing )

I remember waking up one day and hearing someone say "They are trying to loot your shop!", hurry up. The communal clashes had turned violent, and now the next step was shop-looting and burning. I remember that the flawed lock in our shop was the only reason due to which our shop didn't get looted. The bolt got stuck sometimes, that day, it did. Long enough for police to arrive.

All of it started as a protest for land and it had turned communal over time. I remember groups from both communities burning shops of people on the other side. People who were friends, burning each other's shops. A man burning his own barber's shop. I remember my dad fighting to prevent the loot of one shop, his friend's shop, which belonged to the other group. I remember looters shoving him, and telling him, "This is the way, this is what has to be done". It was done. It was a tea and cold drinks shop. They took everything.

That night, I remember all of us carrying sacks full of garments from our garment shop, and carrying them to our house, to limit the damage if the people came again the next day.

That night, we also took out our double barrel gun for the first time, cleaned it, got the rounds in order, and sat outside our house, the whole night. One gun, tens of sticks, hoping to defend our home and businesses.

After that, there was a curfew for around 2 months. One day, I went to meet my friend who lived, two lanes away from our house. I remember going to his house and then him coming to drop me off. We were walking and were at the final turn, and then a tear gas shell dropped right in front of our faces. We ran back towards his house, laughing like crazy, at what just happened. That year we had very little school, between the winter vacations, this whole thing, and the summer vacations, almost none at all. I was in ninth grade.

(Reports: One, Two , Three )

I remember a lot more, many more attacks, many more shootings, much more violence. But I wanted you to understand what it feels like. I think I have done enough. This is all a part of me, now it is a part of you too.