The raid in Dara

December 30, 2005

The alarm in my phone rang exactly at 7am. I heard it clear but kept sleeping. Couldn’t muster enough courage to get up and put it off. As an outsider in Kashmir winters you can be woefully short on this courage. We somehow got up at quarter to 9 (in the morning itself). We had to leave by 9. Taking a bath was out of question, not that we wanted to anyways.
We somehow got out of the house by 9.30, sat in Quyum Saab’s Maruti Omni and drove off. (BTW we also stayed at his place.) A cigarette lit up meant the whole car was full of smoke within minutes. I was choking; I don’t smoke, if you want to know. All efforts to roll down the window failed. It had frozen, at least, that’s what they told me. With three layers of sweater, a jacket, feet well packed (with three layers of socks I would like to call it that way), and an airtight car, we were still shivering. By the time we reached Harwan Police Station, wherefrom we had to accompany a police squad on a raid in Dara, a small village 15 km from Harwan, we were badly in need of a heater and a couple of hot cuppas. Rushing to the DSP’s room we did exactly that. Faisal, the DSP on probation, was busy making plans and arranging for the New Year bash for his men.
In about another half hour we were ready to move. While Faisal and his team drove in their BP (that’s what they call a bullet proof Gypsy there), we sat in an Indica, confiscated by the police a few days ago. But it wouldn’t move. The fuel had frozen and after about half hour of pumping (that’s how they put the problem and the solution across) in the middle of the road we moved towards Dara.
Traversing the meandering road uphill, flanked by breathtaking landscape on either side I completely forgot I was going on a raid and not on honeymoon (Don’t get ideas, just because I was with a man!). I was clicking pictures like a madman of every stupid thing around. All along the way we kept a safe distance from the BP. It’s not a very good idea to be chasing a running coffin.
As we reached the village all eyes were on us i.e. the police and we two. Villagers knew the next few minutes could be full of action. Everyone on to his window, door, or even the road overlooking the house to be raided. The terrain is such that wherever you stand you are exposed to 10-15 houses.
The policemen take their position, while we maintain a distance (can’t call it safe) at the same time try not to lose sight. The DSP opens the rickety tin-sheet door with a kick, Slam!!!! Suddenly there is commotion and loud noise of tumblers falling, as if someone is trying to escape, women start shouting, the policemen tighten their grip on the trigger and we have our heart in mouth. Oh! It was just a dog that jumped on the stranger in the house. The police spend some time interrogating the family. The man they were looking for hasn’t come since last night, they are informed. He is suspected to carry ration to the militants in the jungle.
We return back, stopping in the middle to click pictures of children playing cricket. Cricket seemed to be quite a popular game in Kashmir. Everywhere in cramped lanes we could see children playing the game. On our way back from Wusan, some time later, two youngsters ferociously discussing cricket are quite optimistic about India’s tour to Pakistan. “Harbhajan is in top form. I tell you, he is going to rip through the Pakistani batting line up.” We don’t quite agree but move on.

Apologies for verbosity, I was just a little excited