What is normal for a person who has lived her entire life in a conflict zone? Is it the perpetual bloodshed that has rendered our green chinars red, or is it the constant sense of threat that has prevailed in this valley for too long? As someone who was born and raised in a valley ravaged by conflict since decades, the word normal has become synonymous with all kinds of violence and hardships. My day, unlike yours, begins and ends with uncertainty. Half of my life has been spent locked inside my house because of curfews and strikes. The other half is spent worrying about if I would be able to reach home safely in the evening.
The stark contrast between my life and the life of people who live outside the valley becomes quite clear whenever I visit a different state. The freedom that people in other states enjoy and the peace that they have there is quite unsettling for a person who has known nothing but uncertainty. It feels quite strange to not walk past armed men and vehicles, make plans without having to worry about curfews and strikes and enjoy roaming around late at night. It might sound surprising to people who haven’t experienced the struggles of conflict. What may be a norm for you is, in fact, a luxury for me. We can’t make impromptu plans to hang out with our friends or stay out late at night or go out for dinners. In fact, we can’t even order food from our home because no delivery services are ready to invest and operate in our valley.
There are times when you are unsure that you would even be able to reach home safely. There is one particular incident that left me shaken to the core. I was in my last semester of post-graduation and it had been a few uneventful days of relative calm, which is quite rare in the valley. As usual, I left for the university to attend my morning class. During the class, we came to know that there had been a killing which had led to unrest in parts of the city. So our professor asked us to rush back home. There were women and children travelling in the bus. As the women kept praying, our bus was suddenly surrounded by a mob which pelted us with stones. It was only after fervent appeals that we were allowed to go.
While people in rest of the world are busy chasing deadlines, we are too busy worrying about not being in the wrong place at the wrong time. That is our normal, a stark contrast to yours.
Shabir, 24, is a Pulwama-based food blogger
