An Eye- Witness Account

Gunfire and deafening blasts were common where I lived. It would be considered a good day if we didn't hear any of those. I remember when I was little; I used to flinch at noises and lived in constant fear of someone causing harm to my mother or me.

As I grew up, I stopped flinching. I got used to the specter that hovered over my head, but my fear grew in other directions. I no longer feared just for my mother, but for my friends, their brother and sisters and their families. The militants and the Indian army have been fighting for a very long time. Both say that they are fighting for our safety and freedom but neither of them realizes that their fighting is what is robbing us of our safety and freedom.

I never cared to join either side. I didn't see a solution. All I could think of was that I only had the power to wait until one of them destroys the other. Until then, I would keep working and keep my mother fed. I thought this was enough. I hoped it would be. I was walking home when I was caught in a gunfight. I ran for the nearest shelter, which was a burnt car. Then, there was darkness.

I woke up in a hospital and discovered that I could only see through my left eye. They said it was because of a tear gas canister. My mother was hysterical. I was then told of the outrage my injury had caused. The number of people that took to the streets in violent protests. I was angry at first but as time passed, I realized something. On that day, I realized that the side I wanted to pick. On that day, I lost one eye, but I gained a purpose.

- Purnima. Bala

The short tale above has been told with reference to a story that was published in the Washington Post on political and civil dissenters in the Kashmir valley.