THE SKY WE OWN

Dedicated solely to the Mujahidin of Kashmir. To all the

men, women, and children who have shown the world

that they have messed with the wrong nation.

Don’t ever give up.

Srinagar

Tonight, she thought, the sky seems too full of stars.

With the streets damp with the rain, the trees prancing with

the breezes, the clouds wrapping themselves around the moon,

hiding its beauty, the houses being locked up, the lights turning

off, it seemed to her as if even the Earth was asleep as if a spell

of tranquility had taken over Kashmir. But a dim yellow light,

from the red-bricked house at the end of street 36 of Srinagar,

illuminated the inky night.

She was still looking out of the window, still wringing her

hands back and forth, when she said to her husband, in a hushed

voice, “So you’re going there then?”

Her husband was tying his shoelaces when he answered

“Yes.” Not looking up.

“You’re going right now? I mean, in the middle of the night?”

“Yes.” And then he grabbed his coat from the closet.

“Is it that necessary for you to go?”

He was calmly finger-combing his black hair, “Yes, my dear

wife.” He drew a ragged breath, “Yes. It is."

Why do you pretend like nothing is wrong? She wanted to

scream.

She gave it a last attempt, “Do you not know we are under

curfew today?”

He picked a big black binder from the side table, and sat on

the edge of the bed, and buried his face in it. For a long time, he

said nothing, and she was about to repeat the question whose

answer she knew quite well, when he said in a hoarse voice, "My

love, yes. I am well aware.”

Then why are you going? Have you lost your mind? Do you

have a death wish?

She wearily rubbed her face. Bit her lip.

Slowly, dragging her feet quite deliberately, she took a step

towards him. Then two. His head was bent over a number of

bound papers, stacked upon his left thigh, his eyes skimming

through the printed text.

When she dropped down next to him, he showed no sign of

acknowledging her presence. His eyes were glued to the paper.

She let her eyes examine the stiff set of his shoulders, the tension

in his jaw, and the paleness of his face. It was enough to tell her

that he was thoroughly stressed.

Of course, he was thoroughly stressed. Who would not be

stressed in such a situation?

She cleared her throat. A barely audible sound, and reached

for him. Touched his shoulder, very gently.

He smiled a lopsided smile. His eyes softened as a faint

flicker of amusement flashed in the two lapis lazuli-hued pools.

And then he put the files away to face his wife.

For a long moment, they held each other’s gaze. But as soon

as his blue eyes burned into hers, she felt the intensity was too

much for her to bear, so she looked away. Stared at the ceiling, at

the floor, at her palms, at the walls. Everywhere but his face.

He was quite confused. He didn’t know what to make of the

tension between them. So he finally said, "Honey?” A pause.

“What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. Just barely. She opened her mouth a few

times and searched for the right words. It seemed to him as if she

was never going to say anything, but then-

“Can I— Can I say something?” she said, feeling sheepish as

soon as the words left her mouth.

His brows furrowed.

“Sweetheart” he whispered, “Why are you asking for

permission?”

He was quite successful in ignoring the tension in the air.

Quite successful in pretending nothing was wrong. But she was

breaking, slowly unraveling.

“Don’t go,” she blurted out. Now her heart could not contain

it. “Please, please, please, for the love of God, don’t go. Don’t

leave me. For goodness sake, Please—”

She closed her eyes, stabled her voice, her tone. “Don’t. Go.”

She stressed upon each word.

He reached to touch her hand and she was startled at the

unexpected impact.

“I have to,” he whispered, still studying her hand.

This conversation is pointless, and we have had this very

same conversation thrice in the same week. But I still have to

explain it every time. He thought to himself.

“It’s not a choice,” he said.

She stole her hand back.

“Please can you skip this mission? Just this once? I promise I

will never ever ask you to stay again. Never. Please, this one

mission? Please?”

She sounded like a child, begging for more sweets, and

despite feeling the heavyweight and intenseness of this situation,

he could not help the devilish smirk that tugged on his lips. He

shook his head. Looked at the ceiling, and leaned back, now

shifting his weight to his palms, “You know I can’t.”

There was no hope of convincing him, he was a mountain, the

strongest one, and she was just the wind that flew by, the wind

that could make no change. And despite knowing that, she still

went on.

She couldn’t lose him. He was all she had.

“It’s not safe to leave today, we are under curfew. You can go

some other day maybe? Or... Or I don’t know... But please just

don’t go—"

He smiled again, trying to change the direction in which this

talk was going. “Can we not repeat this conversation, please?

I’m right here, love. I’m not going anywhere,” he said gently.

She vigorously shook her head, biting back the tears. “Stop

acting like this is okay. Stop acting like you have some super

shield and you are invincible. This is dangerous and you know it.

I don’t want to lose you. I— I need you more than you know.”

He gripped the back of his neck, running a hand through his

hair, and tenderly said, “I know you need me. I need you too.”

He met her eyes, “but Kashmir needs me more.”

This time there was no stopping of the waterfall that streamed

down her cheeks. She rubbed her nose.

“You know this is not safe.” Her voice was broken, she was

staring into her palms, silent tears falling down, “What if— I

mean, something could go wrong— What will I do without you?

How will I survive? Do you even care about me? About your

family? About your infant daughter? About your sons? We can’t

live without you! Does your family mean nothing to you? Do I

mean nothing?” she asked him, relieving herself of the burden,

yet, not having the spine to meet his eyes.

Despite the heavy accusations, all that happened was that a

dimple appeared on his cheek. He was smiling. He shifted,

drawing himself closer to her. He put an arm around her

shoulders, pulling her to him.

“You’re talking like I am already dead.” He murmured. His

eyes were calm like the ocean. He tipped her chin, so her eyes

met his, and he solemnly looked into her gray eyes.

“I do care for you. So much, sometimes I cannot think about

anything but you. I do care for our family. More than you think,

more than you know. I do love my home. But you need to

understand that I’m doing this for us, for our home. Who would

want their children to grow in this hell? This land is ours. And

we are the ones who are supposed to take it back. We will fight,

for our home, for our future, for our Kashmir. This is our war,

and we must win it. No angel will ascend from the heavens to get

it for us.”

He went on, trying to make her see his side of the story, and at

this point, he felt like the sounds of her sobs would probably

wake others. And if he were to face his children, things could get

more complicated. Overwhelming, in fact.

So he tried to console her further, “Besides, we all have to go

back one day. We all have to die. Fate decides my death. I will

return if it is decreed. And if not, we shall reunite. One day.

Soon.”

She pulled away from him, away from his arms that were

previously draped around her. He was taken aback by the

reaction he had not anticipated.

“You may be right.” She snapped, “But I am right too. It is

equal to a suicide mission and you know it! I can’t lose you. I—

I can’t—just— please try to understand.” Her voice was

panicked. Worried.

“Nothing is happening.” He said, tenderly, “You are not losing

anything. You’re not losing anyone. My love, no one is going on

a suicide mission.” He enveloped her frozen hands in his.

“God, why are you crying like that?” He brushed his thumb

against the apple of her cheek, wiping away a hot tear.

“My lovely, beautiful, brave wife.” He said quietly, pushing

back a lock of hair behind her ear, “I need you to be stronger

than this. I need your support. I can’t leave you in this state, it

breaks my heart to see you like this. I need you to smile, to

laugh. I want to see the glee in your eyes. Allah doesn’t burden

us beyond our capability, love. I will continue to live if it is

decreed. I will get death if it is decreed. I can’t run from my

destiny, can I? Death will come to me, no matter where I am,

whether that’s at home with my kids, whether that’s in a war.

And I think I prefer martyrdom over a death which means

nothing, and over a life that helps no one.”

A small pause. A deep breath.

“Don’t make this hard for me. Stay strong. Make them

wonder why you are still smiling. Okay?”

He lingered against her skin for a moment longer than he

intended to, the warm curve of her cheek was damp with tears.

He felt like the hurt in her grey eyes was more than he could

bear. Her hands were shaking, her heart beating a strange beat.

He did not want to leave her side. He wanted to wipe every tear

that was rolling down her cheeks, but he knew he could not

waste any more time. He was already getting late.

He sighed. Released her face from his grip.

There was work to be done. Places to be freed. People to be

avenged.

He walked over to the corner of the room. To the small

mattress bed on the floor, on which his 5-year-old daughter was

sleeping. He crouched next to her, dropped on one knee. He

watched her, his eyes bright with emotion. And he felt like he

could spend an eternity, beside her, just like this.

She was sleeping, hugging a pillow to her chest. Her long,

black eyelashes rested against her cheeks. The blue blanket

brought up to her neck. Her cheeks were rosy, and there was a

faint smile on her lips.

Probably dreaming about flying eagles and rainbows.

The dimple on his cheek once again appeared, this time

deeper and he could feel his eyes growing watery. He pulled a

few strands of brown hair away from her face. He touched her

cheek and gently pressed a kiss to her forehead.

For a moment, he just sat there on one knee, staring at the

most precious thing he had in life: his daughter. She was the

answer to every time he looked up at the sky and asked for a

miracle. She was his heart, his soul, the best thing that ever

happened to him. She was his world, and he just loved her. He

loved her too much—

This is no time to get emotional. Highly impractical. How can

I go out with a puffy nose and swollen eyes? He thought to

himself.

Sighing, he attempted to collect himself and somehow

managed to tuck his daughter back into her bed, pulling the

sheets higher, so she would not get cold.

He craned his neck, to look at his wife. And, Goodness, she

was still weeping. He could just see her back. The brown shawl

wrapped around her frame, her long, black hair loose, reaching

up to her waist, a black clip pulling them away from her face.

Don’t cry. He wanted to say. Please don’t cry. This mission is

already hard. Don’t make it harder. Don’t cry. You will make me

cry too. I don’t want to leave. But I have to.

He ran a hand down the length of his face. Walked to her. Sat

beside her, just to cup her face, and the last thing he said to her

was, “Take care of this little eagle for me.”

And, she saw him get up, turn, pivot on one heel, open the

door, and disappear in the late-night mist. Strolling to his destiny,

his chin up, his back straight, his heart strong, and steps

calculated. Fearless and ferocious. Like every Kashmiri was.

Like every Mujahid was.

Author’s Note:

Thank you for reading the prologue of The Sky We Own.

This story is extremely close to my heart. I have not only written an engaging tale but poured into it the plea of thousands of Kashmiris, who yearn to live free and sovereign under the sky they truly own. If this story moved you, please leave a comment or email me at [email protected]. I genuinely welcome your thoughts, constructive feedback, and reflections.

New chapters will be released soon.