Triggered Sorrows

i
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© Copyright, 2018, Saraf Ali

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The opinions/ contents expressed in this book are solely of the author
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Printed in India

Triggered Sorrows

Saraf Ali

EDUCREATION PUBLISHING
(Since 2011)
www.educreation.in
iii
iv
 Preface

The life of students is like a freestyle footballer what

we say. Playing different roles in their life they
somehow manage to overcome the fear of
homesickness. Let me correct, not all of them but a
few students do manage that. You can imagine a
student leaving home to the outskirts of the place
where sunrise comes with a gunshot heard and the
dusk with the smoky blooms of tear gas, Srinagar.
But that doesn't effect them now at all because they
are used of it, they know how to get into their comfort
zone, home. But can you imagine a student leaving
home out for a degree suffering from the fear of an
auto immune disorder, homesickness? Wait, I might
be wrong for I'm no more a medical student. But you
can relate "auto immune" with something that may
suit the sentence well, come on you are a good reader.
By saying 'out for a degree' I mean very far from
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home to a different land where he hadn't been much.
Yes, you can imagine very well for you have the
power you don't know you have. Thank me later for
you didn't know about that fact.

Almighty created the human form and hid the

power of achieving anything in us but didn't tell us
about it. You might have thought why? Come on
what are we goanna do all of our life? Let's make a
sense and take it out.

This is a real life story of an ordinary boy, son of

a reputed father and a heavenly mother, brother of
two loving sisters. He decided to opt computer
science and engineering very far from his home to the
outskirts of the Jammu city.

Late time, on a cloudy day the results of JKCET

were announced. I crosses my fingers and thought to
let fate decide my future. In this entire story you will
come to know how I accepted the challenges I
experienced going to a new city, alone❗

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 Acknowledgement

Allah sent groups of people and made families and

friends of ours to help each other and be each other’s
strength.

I could introduce myself properly, but I don’t

think it’s really necessary. You’ll come to know me
well enough and soon depending upon the love you
share reading this book.

I’m Saraf, an ordinary boy, who was set by HIS

grace to this wide universe to play the character of a
son, a brother, friend of friend and may be have to
play an another character one day.

I thank Almighty for giving me strength and

leading me to such experiences that made this book
happen. I’ve a lot of friends whom I gathered all my
life till now. I’m so blessed to have them all, they all
are my family. You see like my ancestors passed and

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none of them left the love of writing books in my
genes but it were Almighty who created such human
forms for I could be inspired with, friends.

And I’m so thankful to those who supported me

and special thanks to Iram Di, Alya Di, Daniyal
Nazir, Shariq Ashraf and Aayat Hilal for being
cotravelers in my journey.

Thanks giving: All thanks to Almighty Allah and

my friends for being so supportive!

Irsiya Shahista Ajaz. Mir Saqib Farooq.

Irani Khan. Uzair Azad.
Fakhra Gilkar. Uzair Dar.
Nusrat Bashir. Zaid Ajaz.
Sobu Malik. Tawqeer Khrusheed
Sannah Feroz. Muheet Shafi.
Umaisa. Salfi Mohsin.
Sanna Majeed. Mutaib Manzoor.
Uzma Mehraj. Shahgafoor Mir.
Seerat. Asif Javaid.
Aayat Hilal. Salman Jeelani.
Humaira Bhat. Hameem-bin-rehman.

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Ayman wani. Hameem-bin-rehman.
Birjis. Sehran.
Anusha bilal.
Mir
Mashood
Sobia khatoon.

With all duas of: Insha, Shariq Ashraf, Meer

Muzammil, Yasir Ashraf, Daniyal Nazir, Mir
Owaise

And

Iram Sabha, Alya Ehsaan, Shirin, Nimrah Shah, and

specially Mir Aqsa.

Special thanks to Mehak Javaid Bhat for having my

debut book happen!

Being very thankful to Fardeeba ma’am, Nusrat

ma’am and whole of the D.M.P.S pampore and
specially Shahnawaz Ahmad Bhat for making me
worth of writing books!
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Endless gratitude to my Family and my maternal
uncles

Mr. RAYEES AHMAD and Mr. IRFAN AHMAD

for teaching me the moral values of life.

I was born tomorrow

today I live yesterday
killed me Praviz
Owsia.

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 Saraf Ali

Chapter 1: The results.

I think I’ll tell you a bit about my background. I’m a

19 by now, a middle class boy with much high class
desires intending to score my goal before death
knocks me out. So let’s leave all that. I’m an
engineering student by present, studied in Delhi
Modern Public School, pampore till my 8th standard,
ending up with almost 12 years of joyful memories
over there. I was sent to Muslim Educational Institute
for my high school studies with no memories over
there and finally passed my 12th class from Boys
Higher Secondary school, pampore.

I can never forget that day. I was in the practice

sessions of football. I didn’t know my world would
come down that soon. It were around 3:30 of the day
ticking, the day when my friend spoke saying, “Saraf
you’ve been selected”.

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Triggered Sorrows

I was never a hard worker you see. Yes, I always

try to be honest with all, so believe me. With not
much efforts to my studies and after a much difficult
test, I was selected in JKCET for making my future
in engineering.

The selection list was out and I had been selected

to the winter capital of our state, Jammu. Mahant
Bachittar Singh College of Eng. And Technology, the
name you can spell while having your two minute
noodles ready. I can understand you can call it MBS
like every other does.

I had to leave home for the first time. Damn, it

seemed I was sentenced to death. Oh! I like heard the
Judge breaking the nib clearly. I realized soon my
responsibilities had drifted to something else, the
increased with my age in fact. I was in a ship sailing
far from my home with no other driver, having no
spare parts, only a single hope, Almighty.

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 Saraf Ali

Chapter 2: The sleepless night.

I could see myself clearer proceeding towards the

unstable mental condition I was going to be in.
Unable to get up from my bed, restlessness and
headache. There was no sleep on my numb eyes. My
parents slept peacefully not knowing what was I
going to tell them the next morning. I don’t have that
heart to bother someone to my sufferings.

I was blessed to have good imaginative powers.

I could imagine myself clearer, alone roaming the
streets of a new city. Finding friend, staying alone in
a lonely little room with an outdated phone in my
hand pushed up with any of the very sad,
heartbreaking song. God! I don’t want to die in a
small room away from my world, my home, I kept on
thinking.

I got up, poured myself a cup of coffee and

somehow was managing to gulp it. My room was on

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Triggered Sorrows

the 3rd floor, had a glass window paneled. In times, I

used to sneak from there staring and counting stars
with a cup of coffee handed. It was the thing I liked
to do. Honestly! I did have spend much beautiful
times doing that.

The night I sat there, counting stars over my

head, realizing I had to leave everything and
everyone I loved far from the safe heaven I lived in
to the unknown land with unfamiliar people. My
feelings mismatched, I was in grief, tension and
perhaps excited too. After much discussion with the
man I listen to, me, I decided to disclose my result
with my family the next morning.

As the night of grief passed, I saw dawn breaking

through the dark cloudy weather, claiming that the
day was about to come. As always I listened, there is
a something magical in the new morning and I had
heard that however the dark night may be, there is
always a new morning to live in.

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 Saraf Ali

Chapter 3: Bad morning.

The next morning I was up, my parents were

surprised to see me woke before my daily routine.
Anyone could have guessed that I had no sleep,
looking at my face. Well, my face was really too stiff
and my eyes red. I knew my parents well, they
usually don’t agree with my odd sense. I knew they
would feel so proud about me that they would send
me away without even having a talk

My parents knew that there was something

wrong in me waking up too early. So, I unfortunately
had to disclose my results. I did!

Congratulations! So, Jammu it is—the city of

temples and only 300 kms from here. I couldn’t even
utter a yes, when my father asked that. Listen son,
“you are going ; at any cost”, he said.

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Triggered Sorrows

Well, it were not only my father’s words,

speaking were the intellectual minds that suggested
me doing things right all my life. We all are well
aware about the political issues and the clashes going
in our state. This was the main reason of sending me
away, I guess.

I was the only boy in my home. So, for him to

suggest me to Jammu was a decision made carefully.

I knew that I did not want to go jammu but at the

same time I was asking myself were my feelings
more important than my father’s decision? I had two
sisters quite younger than me who only knew the way
from school to home. The first young sister was aged
15 and the other was barely eight. Would I be the one
who would leave home?, I kept asking myself.

Nature, makes us grow, makes us face

experiences that become a part of making de in our
lives. Sometimes, having no parental talks we are the
only ones who decide the good for us. In this case,
for the last many years I had prepared my parents not

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to bother their minds, thinking about my future all

day long. I had told them that if I wasn’t able to crack
my medical entrance, I would let fate decide my
future and try for a second chance. I had promised
them to clear the entrance in not more than a second
chance. But fate plays no fair game, there was
something else written for me.

So like a dramatic family in a democratic state,

we discussed the problem in hand like mature adults
did. My youngest sister’s reaction was a denial one.
She told me very categorically that she would not like
me to go. It was the time for me to open my heart. I
told her if that happened for what I had to leave, I
would be coming to visit home every week with gifts
and if I could not, I would send her some surprises.
But somehow I was still worried about both of them.
They were in a stage where my guidance mattered a
lot. I told them I would be talking to their teachers
before leaving and request them to take extra care so
as my absence would be filled.

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Triggered Sorrows

It was my younger sister sadaf, who cleared all

my doubts. “Brother, it is entirely your call but I don’t
want you to go neither I want you to sit at home and
waste your time and talent, go for it. Don’t worry
about us, we’ll do fine. You have taught us enough
how to leave our comfort zone for achieving
maximum positive results of our own future and to be
responsible and independent”, she said. At that
moment I realized that I actually felt proud for having
such lovely sisters. I hugged them, there and then.
But the battle was half won!

I want to say this to all of the students out there.

Our brothers and sisters might not say but they are
proud to have us as their idols, superheroes,
managing both home and the studies simultaneously.
Yes, you might have to make some sacrifices, now
and then but don’t mind doing that. So, shed this extra
baggage and stop feeling guilty.

Today realizing what my sister had shown me, a

path, a right path, a gift I would cherish for lives. She

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 Saraf Ali

lessened the burden that I had been carrying on my

shoulders in all my ignorance.

Chapter 4: My 19th birthday.

Every year we achieve milestones of our age turning us

into more old and thinkers.

Like every year, after every birthday party, I decide

not to have more parties. “I’m too old for parties now”, I
would always say this to my friends. As time flies it’s very
soon it would be the time for a new party. My friends
would call me for a treat saying about where and how they
want it. After that I would decide to call all of my friends
available. Finally it would end up with a nice little party
with them.

August, 27, finally when I turned 19. It was not so

special for me as it used to be because I had to leave the
next day all away from friends, from home.

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Triggered Sorrows

Aayat Hilal and Shariq Ashraf my close friends cut

short all the usual procedures and decided that there would
be a proper party for I had to leave. Meanwhile, aayat
finalized a venue without letting me know. Sure enough, I
gave them too many reasons not to celebrate but she ended
up saying that she too had to leave for the other country,
study MBBS so God knew we would it be the last birthday
we are having together. The party next day was a huge
success minus a few goof-ups. No decoration, no cake,
nothing. I had been called to head up to the Winterfell
Café, a place know for celebrations. But this was yet
another time when I appreciated aayat for her efforts and
complimented her with “The girl behind the magic”.

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 Saraf Ali

Chapter 5: The Last Meet

In no time it was my last day home. It was Sunday

evening and the next day my flight to the other land
was going to take off sharp at 7 in the morning. I did
not let anyone go off my eyes. My parents laughed at
me calling me a sentimental fool. I knew I was being
stupid but I just wanted us to be together.

In the afternoon I went out for some chill to

Winterfell Café along with Shariq and Aayat but
there was something more missing my friend Uzair
Azad who had been a brother these past years,
Umaisa, Nusrat, Insha, Sobu, Sana and other friends
especially Mehak Javaid Bhat. Their absence had a
clear cut Arc in that chill out.

We were welcomed at the gate and seated at our

favorite sofa back the counter. I visit the place often
that the manager and the waiter know me very well

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Triggered Sorrows

and give me the best service. So, “What today sir?”,

asked the waiter pointing towards me. I would like
you to hear my friends, I replied. Shariq prefers
grilled chicken wraps and so do I. I’ll have a mojito
aayat said. “We are celebrating today”, added shariq.

Celebrating? I glared at him with all the venom

I could muster in my eyes. I could see aayat standing
and heading my side. “How dare you to celebrate his
going away from home!” staring at shariq she added.

“We are celebrating our friend’s new journey,

we are celebrating a new chapter of his life,
celebrating are we the successful story that is about
to unfold”, with a smile on his face he replied. I can
never forget these mesmerizing lines shariq added to
my life. Having no idea of what to say further, aayat
too smiled and said, “Lets celebrate then!”. We all
laughed, the tension was broken, the mood suddenly
felt light. I once again thanked Almighty for bringing
me such friends.

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 Saraf Ali

Laughing, talking, eating, I looked at my small

family, friends. Holding my hand tight, with numb
eyes and soft tone, “We’ll meet again”, they said.

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Triggered Sorrows

Chapter 6: The Arrival

The clock ticked '5' in the morning and I was up,

ready. My father had insisted that he would come
with me to jammu and help me settle. No way! I’m
not a kid anymore, I can do it by my own, don’t you
worry father, I pointed. Moreover the family needed
him because it was my Grandma and my mother
along my two little sisters in the house whom he had
to leave and come along me. At that time I realized
how aggressive was I in my childhood. I would
always make sure that dad dropped me far from a
quite distance to the school gate so no one could see
that my parents had come to drop me.

My sisters insisted that I woke them up when I

had to leave for the airport but I didn’t. I was not sure
if I could handle that. So I, before leaving kissed hard
on their cheeks, without looking back, went out of the

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 Saraf Ali

room. I hugged my parents my grandma and took

their blessings. We left for the airport.

At about 6:30 A.M I got down at Srinagar

International Airport. This was the first of many time
I had to take a morning flight to jammu. My father
waved at me from the driver’s seat. The car moved
forward, I was on my own now.

After arriving safe to jammu I was yet thinking

about how would things happen from here now.
Getting down the plane I realized that this was an
airport I fell in love with, small and beautiful. With
the sun shining bright, I felt much good. I’m of the
kind who always wants sun lift his mood. I hate that
cloudy weather, I find it gloomy. However, the dark
weather be, even a hint of a sunny day makes me feel
better.

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Triggered Sorrows

Chapter 7: The Heavenly Roommate

A Godly woman, whom I too call my sister, Iram Di

Di who was from kishtwar actually but resided in
jammu. She was there in my tough times advising me
to do things correctly. She did treat me as his brother
as I could never pay her debts. After she heard about
me coming to jammu, she had given me the number
of her friend Samai-ul-ehsan to talk to with.
Samiyaul-ehsan who was known by the name Alya
was the most interesting girl I ever met. Alya di di is
a girl I'm proud to have. She too treated me as his
brother.
“My young brother with quite much innocence you
are” she always kept on saying. She was from the
same college where I had to be now although my
senior she was. She introduced me to all of the friends
she had and told them I was his brother she was
talking of. I always thank Allah for giving me such
valuable beings that make my life feel more
beautiful. So now, Alya di di introduced me to her
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 Saraf Ali

close friend Daniyal Nazir. A man with dignity and

an amazing sense of thinking. Words can hardly
explain my love and respect towards him. Shaking
hands with a tight hug he asked, “ So, where is he
going to stay Alya?”. I could see two pairs of eyes
staring at me as I knew that this question was to
answered be me. I was honest “ I’m alone in this
entire city, hostel is also not fit for me, I’ve no place
to stay in yet” I answered. “Can you give me a
favor?” Di di asked daniyal. “I’m not bound to obey
you alya”, he answered. Take him with you, he’ll stay
with you for some time until we find him a place to
settle in, di di said. Well that’s completely fine, you
can stay with me as long as you wish, looking at me
daniyal said. My joy resided no place, I once again
thanked Allah for having such people in my life.

I spoke to daniyal the whole day. He was very

cooperative and understanding. He told me that his
father worked in the Civil Secretariat and had been
allotted a flat with not so flat type conditions. Quarter

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Triggered Sorrows

is what they called it, is for an employee working in

the Secretariat that is allotted in the winter capitalism
of our state so as to reside in.

As we departed college, the afternoon about 5 'o'

clock, we grabbed a bus and headed to the quarters.
The bus cruised along the roads of jammu.
My eyes we numb, my mood couldn’t fit the
landscape, the road and the city. This was the city
which was going to be my home for Allah knows how
many years. Although I was not happy here but I
came to know about many places which led me to
excitement. I later learnt that there were many places
to visit to and have fun. The Bahu Fort, Mansar, The
Wave Mall were few places I came to know about.
This was evening now and we were still on the way.
I could see people taking walk in a ground at Gandhi
Nagar. From bellied uncles to smart fit men, from
girls in Nike trainers to sareed and hijab-clad women.
The evening seemed much beautiful unlike my
mental state.

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 Saraf Ali

After a while the bus stopped. The yellow

buildings were what I could see throughout my way.
“So where are we?” I asked daniyal. “Janipur it’s
called” with a smile on his face he answered.

The 'H' block was where had to stay. The

building failed to impress me even at a single glance.
“The building must had seen better days no?” in a soft
sarcastic tone I asked. “Even I think that sometimes”,
slapping my back and laughing he answered. A
splash of here and there on the walls told me about
the building was once in yellow. I later came to know
this was the renovated building the colony had up to
date.

The flat was on the last floor. It was a three

storied building. We made our way by taking stair.
The building had a type of stairs I only had seen in
movies. The movies in which police heads up for a
shootout at the crime spot.

“Asalamualaikum”, in a relaxing voice a young

fellow greeted us. “He is my younger brother, Adil”,
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Triggered Sorrows

daniyal spoke. “Walaikumaslaam, So is he mine

now” I replied. Laughing together they took my
luggage and guided me to the room.

As adil showed me the room, I started up seeing

2 single beds, a cupboard, a fridge and a cooler. This
was all the room had. I managed to thank both of
them but at the moment they were out for some work
my eyes got wet. I remembered entering my own
room in my home. “This is going to be your cell for
no one knows how much time” the fear of
homesickness shouted in my head. As if it was the
end of my life, I sobbed. The control on my tears
which had shown for last many days so as to not
demoralize my parents, broke!

Since I was alone I had not to worry about

anyone seeing me crying. I cried!

There was a soft knock on the door which was

already open. It was daniyal. He with a most
sympathetic face looked at me. He felt embarrassed

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 Saraf Ali

to catch me crying. I smiled through my tears and told

him to come in. I still remember what he told me.

“Saraf, we also feel bad leaving our families

behind and residing alone. I understand how bad you
must be feeling to do so”. These words put me in an
ease of a comfort sleep then.

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Triggered Sorrows

Chapter 8: Lost in Jammu

After a progressive recovery from the initial shock, I

had to now get up from the brood and start behaving
normal.

So I decided to take a walk to the market. First

thing first, to get into a mood and to dress properly. I
went to the market and headed up straight to the mall.
I bought myself a pair of shoes, socks, a tracksuit,
lowers, a face towel and many more things I thought
were necessary. I came back to the flat spending a
good amount of money.

The next morning I rouse myself out of the sleep

at around 6:00 A.M, I was again out for a walk in the
new city--- a city in which I had only seen three
places till then—The airport, the mall and the college.
I hadn’t even explored my locality. So, I decided to
make the current situation change. I took some

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money, picked up my phone, dressed up in with a

new outfit and went for a much needed walk.

Thinking so differently, I besides choosing to

explore my locality, i chose to go for a walk to some
far area to discover more.

Along the road I could see people staring at me.

Perhaps it was my ever dressing which made their
eyes on me. In my black track, bright yellow T-shirt
and a colored sneaker, I didn’t look like a local out
for a morning walk. I didn’t mind anyone staring at
me, I was more concerned about the walk.

Walking about 6 kms all along the road a little

further down, I saw a ground. It was exactly inside
the premises of a science college. So taking
directions of where to enter, from the people, I
stepped in the ground. People mainly middle aged,
young and fit boys and so looking professionals were
practicing football and the coach standing on the field
line guided them. The game was on. In time I’m very
passionate and curious about football. I entered the
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Triggered Sorrows

field, many eyes stared at me. I showed up to the

coach and told him to let me play as well. After a fine
impressive play, the coach told me the exact timing
to join them and play with them onwards.

I then headed back to home as I was already late.

I little feared that of the clue to go back home. I
wonder how someone could get lost in jammu, but I
did! I could have managed to ask someone for the
directions back to home but instead I took a rickshaw
because I was tired too to walk back home. I told the
driver to take me to Janipur main market. The colony
where I had to go was adjacent to the main market.

When he came near to the market, I recognized

the area and could guide him to the colony.

So, you can see how my sense of direction is. I

was lost on the very first start in jammu. I wonder
when Almighty distributed the sense of direction I
must be busy playing badminton or football.

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 Saraf Ali

Chapter 9: College

The war with self was half won, but the other battle
was to be won at my college. In spite of the very fact,
that I had been to jammu many times, there were
many of our relatives who were rejoicing at my
unexpected protocol to jammu. I wouldn’t even be
surprised if they had also distributed sweets.

In my schooldays, as a mere child, I remember a

lesson my English teacher Fardeeba ma’am taught
me. It was after I started crying because of not
submitting my math’s copy to the concerned teach,
although I had a genuine reason of not doing so but
still I was punished. She narrated a couplet from
Rahim the Dr. Sir Mohammed Iqbal (r.a) the essence
of which was that “one should hide one’s pain from
people’s eyes, for your pain is yours that no other can
experience by real means”. Since the day I don’t

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Triggered Sorrows

show my pain to others unless they are close to my

heart. For the rest, I just put up a smiling face.

So, it was with a smiling face I went to college

the next day. The other Kashmiri students could not
believe that I was not devastated. They came to me to
offer their sympathies, expecting to see me in tears or
at least in an off mood. They were pushed back
automatically with my smiling face. “This man is
going to manage till the whole course”, I could hear
them thinking. I was normal in fact enjoying their
bewilderment.

A number of people came to me conveying their

sympathies and also to see me in gloomy mood as
they were themselves. They would say, “oh, you
would have had an admission in the SSM college of
Eng. And Technology or at least applied for the
Islamic University of Science and Technology for
you could come home daily, why this hell? Neither
arguing nor agreeing, just a smile. Although there
were some of my senior friends in front of whom I

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did not have to put up this smiling bravery mask I

wore.

Even though my family too showed much

courage and told me that they would be fine without
me, I still had a doubt. “How can you not need a son
when you have an only son?” Wont you need your
brother in your life to slap your back and tell he’s
proud of you? Even though children now a days
almost know everything before hand but I knew that
very soon there would be a time in my youngest
sister’s life where she would need someone to explain
her the things happening around, she would need me.
In that crucial period to come about, she needed me
to motivate her, as she would be working hard. To let
her lean her head in my lap narrating the Tales from
Shakespeare, wishing her luck before her exams,
letting het watch grow.

In spite of a smiling face, to be honest, I was

broken inside. I was so tense that I knew I would cry
if someone tickled me a little more. It was then a

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Triggered Sorrows

colleague of daniyal, who was also a friend now,

suggested a solution. “Let’s go and join a football
club, I know many of the leading clubs, conducting
trails to join them.

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Chapter 10: The Football Club

So, now I started my search for a perfect Football

Club. My only Criterion was that it should be a good
professional club. I searched on the net and
shortlisted a few. Moreover a friend of Daniyal
agreed to show me few clubs he knew. One day one
club my search begun. The first club I visited was a
small group of people practicing in a small corner of
a big stadium, sounds strange. There were no
workout exercises no warm up need a professional
coach. Just a bunch of people with a ball down the
field not even knowing how to exactly hit the ball.
Therefore, this club was out.

The next was a huge club not well maintained

although playing in a big stadium with all the
professional equipment but they didn’t fit my
criterion. Their jersies where old and torn out. I felt

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they needed hygienic sense of appearance before they

could enter a match. “We have ordered new jerseys“,
told the manager of the club to me when he saw me
pointing towards their od appearance. I just had no
idea was the order really placed and when the jerseys
would arrive. So, I stepped back and the club was not
in the list anymore.

After checking ng out many clubs, I finally made

a visit to the last one left, “the J&K Bank Academy”.
It was a bit far from my place but I was fine with that.
They practiced in the hall field of huge ground. The
way they practiced, ah! Didn’t fail to impress me.

The ground was surrounded with trees and

greenery. Overall the location and the club was more
then what I hoped for. After a talk with the manager
and the coach, I saw that day to wear good footballers
and their approach was professional. I settled for an
old experienced professional trainer who had been a
professional midfielder too. Thus, I
found my club and a trainer. The only thing to be
done was to play professionally.

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Chapter 11: Not Hostel

As of the moral values I learned, I came to know that

being calm in times is the best thing one must do. I
was told be calm at times given an example of two
tall trees. One among those who is tall, stiff and
overconfident about standing still and the other tall as
well but soft and calm. As sometimes a heavy current
of wind blows, the one standing still breaks. His pride
leads to his downfall, while the other somehow
manages to be flexible at time is safe due to its soft
nature.

You can literally win a fight with your father.

Come on, you are the same as he must have been, you
are his reflection. The previous night I practically
made my father believe that I was living in an old,
worn down, shabby room in a for granted colony

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where power cuts were normal. I could even die of a

slip crumbling down the stairs. The colony was a bit
old and ill-maintained but it was not that bad as I had
explained. I did that because I found it the only way
to go back home.

My dear father had spoken to some of our

relatives as well, called upon their favors to let me
stay with them. He spoke to some hotels as well as he
had a “hi-hello” type of relationship with some of the
managers over there. He has always been most thrifty
but when it came to me, at the same hand he never
bothered about expanses. Spending thriftlessly every
month on where I was, I could stay with my relatives
for free but I was not fine with that

Again a battlefield was created. It was now my

defensive turn. I knew I could never make him sense
if I told him that money was the reason I wanted to
come back home. I won’t be surprised of him telling
me that “money is only dirt on palms” because he
literally belongs to that thinking. So I had not to use
this as a defensive weapon. I was in a torment.

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Dad! You can’t let me stay in a hotel, can you?

It’ll not fit my studies. “I’ll arrange you a good one”,
he said. He knew that being alone had never been my
strong reason to lead with because I did like to be
alone usually.

I love to stay in a neat and clean room, but I

usually don’t play a role in maintaining it. In my
home my mother is a cleanliness freak and I, master
at messing things up. She even wakes me up by
telling like this, “do you read three books at a time?”
when a bunch of books is what she sees on my bed.
There is a lot more that I’m often told but let that be,
the list is endless.

“So, why don’t you shift to the hostel?” looking

in not a good mood my father asked me. “Well I got
some issues with the mess-system and you know
that”, I answered. “Listen son it’s enough, you are
shifting to the hostel and that the last time we are
taking about it”, he acted more that a judge having
his last decision on finding someone guilty.

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Triggered Sorrows

I was loosing the battle but no way was I going

to let that happen. With a good sarcastic knowledge,
I begun to head my defensive side. “Hostel?, ah! I
see”, I begun to tell. Do you know what that means?
I questioned him. Tell me the answer if you already
know that, he said. I’ll be having a lot of seniors, a
bunch of unfamiliar people around me. Playing cards
the whole night with the smokers puffing God knows
what other than the cigarettes, will I have to live.
That is what hostels are that’s what they have been
known for. Do you want your only son be ragged by
smokers, forcing him to puff a “God knows what
loaded cigarette? You won’t I guess. The mood
begun to get so serious, I could see myself leading
and continued.

As a trend of discussions we see now a days on

news channels, the same discussion will take place
on my uncertain death, won’t they? In a soft poorly
mood I asked. Everyone would target you and blame
you of my death. How will it sound when you’ll be
called on the television channel and asked why did

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you let your only son in the hands of the chain

smokers? Not only this, the mist haunting line you
maybe be hearing will be like this, “Gaur se dekhyei
iss shaqs ko, the National wants to know why did you
let your only child in wrong hands, alone? “.
“Enough”, in a stammering voice, frightened, my
father said. I’ll try to migrate you back to the valley
as soon as possible, he added. Ah! This line was the
happiest of all I had heard since I came to this other
state. I was so happy and the battle was won!

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Chapter 12: The skeleton

I was born in a healthy family, family with a sweet

tooth; almost all of us are, only I’m the exception. I
don’t like to eat much. Let me be more specific, I
don’t like to eat even, literally, I eat nothing as my
physic speaks it well.

So you can blame me for my poor health! I don’t

love to eat but it’s not me that’s not willing to eat, it’s
that damn place everything we eat does go, stomach.

Everyone has their favorite foods but I don’t

unluckily. So whenever someone asks me what my
favorite food is, I’m out of words

I guess you now have a fair idea of my passion

of eating. I’ve heard that to get something you have
to loose something but it’s reverse of what was
happening to me, to get something you’ve to gain

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something. Something which I wanted to gain—

weight!

Yes, ever since the day I saw that even the

readymade 'M' sized clothes didn’t fit me I got afraid
and begun to fight a lonely battle with my weight! I
sometimes think that I didn’t suck enough food from
the placenta or there was something wrong with my
metabolism. Studying medical science for almost two
years, I came to the conclusion that my body
converted everything into short-term energy, that I
ate. It even didn’t convert sugar into fat which is the
basic thing in a human body, biologically. It led me
to a skeleton type body, I was in a poor health.

Chapter 13: Home

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Triggered Sorrows

As time flew, 2 months were over. The past week in

college was too busy with our internals. So, as the
exams were over, I decided to go home

It was a Friday and the next seven days were

going to be off for our college, I decided to head
home.

Now, jammu happens to be around 300 kms

from srinagar which took about 5-6 hours of journey
by road but now a days takes an overnight journey
and 20 minutes by flight.

Later then I learned the travelling in winters on

the jammu-srinagar national highway was a very bad
idea. One must think 1o times before doing that. You
can be stuck in traffic for days sometimes. I have
travelled many times by road and stuck in traffic for
around two days even in slides when landslides
sealed the road, I’m used to an overnight journey
now.

My road travels had made me a familiar face in

the General Bus Stand jammu and drivers had started

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to recognize me. Well, to be honest, it did make me

feel good to be recognized in that manner.

The return journey requires a different kind of

shopping, sweets for all and chocolates for children.
This is what the return journey from jammu is known
for, sweets. So I, stepped somewhere for a while,
bought sweets when I saw a shop selling them. Well,
kashmiri readers need not to be explained what my
last sentence meant. They understand what sweets
mean when we are returning from jammu.

The amount that I spent on sweets was directly

proportional to the guilt I carried. Leaving my sisters
and my family, going to a new city, was a crime! Oh,
my back would pain with this weight of this 'invisible
guilt bag', so I stuffed my visible bag with lots of
gifts, sweets and other things so that the invisible bag
on my back would feel slightly better. You see, this
is how often I fool myself.

They were all there to receive me at the stop—

my family along with my sisters. I hugged them,
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Triggered Sorrows

kissed them, cried a little. The sorrows I had met were

triggered back for some time. I began to drown in the
tears of my family!

This was my first home coming. Later it became

a routine that I sometimes would have to ring the door
bell to rouse them from sleep when I would come
home late Friday nights.

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 Saraf Ali

Thankyou Mahant Bachittar Singh College of

Eng. And Technology for having me a library I could
peacefully write in.

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