My AUTOBIOGRAPHY [LEE]

    

CHAPTER 1: SWEET MEMORIES OF MY CHILDHOOD:

All the children are born round the world with the same amount of brain but their psychology and thinking is molded by the society and the family around, events passing at the school and home, and Religion makes the identity of a child. It was April, 26 when a child was born in 80's. He was the second child in the family. His parents had great expectations out of him much like the any other parent around the world. The most distal childhood memory he keeps is of 1989 election in J&K state of India. He didn’t even know what the elections are meant for at that point of time, as he was few years old. He was the eye witness of such election in Nagam town where he was born. The first thing he observed was the smoke filled atmosphere with huge rush of people at the pollin’ booth. The people were using Kangris (Kashmiri firepot for keeping oneself harm in winter) to throw at each other near the voting booth. The people especially party workers were rebuking using swear words. Fortunately the kid was watching all this from the nearby terrace of a house. He was of the age of presently "Moujiz'' i.e around 4 years old. At the end of day he enquired about all this from his father. He father skillfully diverted his mind to other things so as to skip the importance of the day’s happenings for his beloved child. May be he was right for keeping the chapter of dirty politics from his Childs’ brain. At the age of 5 he got admission in one of the reputed Islamic School of his area namely SAIMS directly in First Primary. The reason behind it was that he was taught LKG and UKG classes at home. His father was his first teacher and mentor. At the school he was Roll no 1 from First Primary through 8th. At the school he was ambivert ready to listen to everybody and speaking at times it deserved. Besides the regular subjects he was taught Ikhlakhi-Kahani (Moral stories) and Sacha- deen (True way of life) at school. Being a kid he was learning as if it was revealed for him only. The moral stories were a source of great inspiration for him. Gradually he developed the habit small learning skills like ‘closing the running tap by the road side or at home’, displacing the stone on the road, paying salaam ( Islamic greeting) to elders whosoever crossed his way. He was really enjoying this novel habit. After returning from home at 4pm, he was quick to complete his homework by 5pm. It was a new chapter of his life after 5pm- playing with friends, swimming at the nearby stream or naughtily plucking fruits from orchards during fruit season. He was the only kid in the locality with the knowledge of each and fruit tree & its ripening time. He was fond of fruits. Luckily he was never caught in an orchard.

             Those were the fun days of his life. An enjoyment ever child deserves. He was using tattoos on his uniform to get praises and comments from his friends and classmates. He was adorable to all.

Sundays were full of fun for him. He used to plan for it a day before. He at times was forgetting lunch and afternoon tea.  

Chapter 2: BITTER MEMORIES OF MY CHILDHOOD:

The decade of 90’s changed his perception to life forever. He had a new learning yet to be learnt.

The chapters most of the children around the world don’t even know or like to learn about.

Militancy in Kashmir valley was at peak on those days. Ordinary people were crushed between the two extremes of army (Indian) and militants. Army used to visit the kids’ house often because of mansion

appearance and from that point of view the ideal hide for militants. It was one of the fateful nights

when army men broke into the kids’ home at around 2am. The child still remembers the event quite clearly. It was border Security Force, BSF petrol party (even in those days BSF had full control over all residential areas) headed by commanding officer, Dannae Ram. He was the cruelest for the locals. The sixth standard kid was sleeping fearlessly all alone on the first floor of his home when someone knocked at his door. It was pitch dark with no electricity. When the kid opened the door, to his utter surprise he found BSF men next to him. Everything was in dark Nothing visible, only the ghostly shadows overwhelming him. For each and every kid such a situation can be the most troublesome and frightening. Among BSF men, one of them enquired about militants with the twinkling flash light right on the awestruck face of the kid. Because being the kid, he couldn’t answer the questions properly. He hadn’t learnt such a lesson in the school or at home ever. He hesitantly replied that he didn’t know anything and if they suspect anything they could search it themselves. On hearing this army men got infuriated. They dragged the kid to the adjoining room, ready for torture. This was the first lesson being tough to the kid outside his school. Such a barbarism and human rights violation has no parallels in the world. One of the army men pulled his hair from the back, pulled him down and pushing his knee on kids’ back. The other two army men start pulling the legs apart. Tears start rolling down the cheeks of 6th standard kid. In an utter pain of unconditional stretching of muscles, he moaned and replied in a hush voice, ‘’ I will show you where those militants can hide’’- pointing towards attic. The army men got delighted about the clue of militants. They put on bullet proof helmets and jackets. Now the kid had to guide them about the militants. He went upstairs with the army men at the back as if ready to shoot the kid in case of any encounter with militants. The kid was awfully terrified at the scene. He had almost forgotten about his future. Now he was mumbling the "kalima" i.e La ilaha illa Allah Muhammad ur Rasoolullah, in his heart. That is the Islamic way of getting ready for death. He was damn sure that he is going to get killed at the hand of army or militants in minutes. Perplexing thoughts start rooming in the head. He was of the belief that their might be militants hiding at attic.  Fortunately there was none,  the kid couldn’t walk  properly for weeks…

CHAPTER 3: ACADEMIC TRAGEDY:

It all started with the higher secondary part-II i.e. 12 annual exam. There were 9 papers in total.  I toiled whole of the year very hard to clear the concept of the every subject. Two days before the exam of physics paper,  i  was discussing chemistry concepts with my friends. I conceived that the next paper is chemistry. I took the date sheet for granted. When i reached exam hall,  i was making quick revision of chemistry. One of my close friend said, “are u mad,  why are u memorizing chemistry? It is physics paper today" i thought he was kidding me but he was serious.  It was physics day.  I wept a lot because physics was my favorite but i couldn't make revision of it. All my dreams start making distance with me. I somehow gathered the confidence to enter in exam hall. Tears were on my answer sheet as i was writing the answers.  It was not theoretical, physics demand explanation with mathematical treatment.  When i returned home, i  wept a lot.  I was emotional down but i couldn't tell anybody my story. I couldn’t prepare for the rest of 4 papers because of physics nightmare. I only  got marks % in 50's but i was not deserving it...my close friends scored in  70's. My parents still don't know about it.

          After 12th,  i dropped from MBBS by just few marks. It was my second trauma. If i had additional maths, i would have been an engineer because my  physics n chemistry points were making me qualify for engineering entrance.  Again a bad luck.

            My 3rd serious trauma was my big disaster.  It happened in 4th semester of  M. Sc.  It was because of favoritism n corruption.  I had back log in 4th semester.  I was not that dumb.  I wrote beautifully in the exam.  It was again a bad luck that my answer sheets were exchanged with an influential guy who had his relatives.  It was later known to me that actually he got failed, but my handwriting was matching with that guy so much that the corrupt and mischievous  people find no difficulty exchanging my papers with him. All my batch mates were passed but i was with backlog.  For few days my friends  consoled me later they showed back.  Again i picked up the threads of confidence, and prepared myself for exam. As i was the only guy with backlog,  so the administration showed least interest in me.  That year was the full of miseries n nightmares for me. Finally i appeared in the exam and scored 85% with the same amount of brain and knowledge as before. That bad guy is about to finish PhD but i am teacher in a Pvt.  Institute....