My Facebook status is empty for last many months because I don’t want to end up in any trouble.
The article 19(1) (a) of the Constitution of India states that, “all citizens shall have the right to freedom of speech and expression”. The philosophy behind this Article lies in the Preamble of the Constitution, where a solemn resolve is made to secure to all its citizen, liberty of thought and expression. But when I look at the practical side of it what I see is entirely different. In Kashmir, my homeland, this fundamental right to speech and expression is getting increasingly suspended day in and day out. I feel we live in the stone-age era where we cannot post, express, speak the reality to the world, because if we do, it becomes a propaganda or part of propaganda. My Facebook status is empty for last many months because I don’t want to end up in any trouble. I know there are a lot of vultures keeping an eye. On the other hand, I feel like there are millions of voices echoing in my head and I want to put it down, pour it out; but I fail. I fail miserably due to the lack of freedom to speak, express, voice out. The inner voices try to come out but then somehow I stop them and this leads to a great pain inside my chest.
I remember how much I wanted to purse journalism, mass communication as my mainstream field of study and work, but then thousands of negative thoughts trapped in my mind woke up. What for? When I know I won’t be able to put my thoughts, the realities around me into words, for the fear of being banned, put behind the bars, PSA being slammed on me, and I would be called as an anti-national. But I know I just want freedom, to speak, to breathe, to express my reality. But what if, I would be killed, Hundreds of bullets would pierce my chest and my family would be in a deep trouble. Shall I give up? Or maybe, I am giving up already. When I watch the news channels I see things different than ground realities. They make us believe that what we know of Kashmir isn’t true at all. Lies are propagated in the name of facts and realities. The truth is being kept under the bed-sheets, behind the curtains. How do I say it loud form the rooftops? Who do I tell this to? Who will listen to me? So many Kashmiri journalist, males and females have been booked under PSA for speaking out, for following the article 19, freedom of speech and expression. And this keeps on going.
Every day I open my phone, I see the flash news, so and so has been booked for writing about... Then I question myself about my whole existence. What are we going to do now? Maybe, nobody wants us, needs us, wants to listen to the real miseries of a common Kashmiri person. Even if I write something apolitical, I know it is going to backfire on me. I see the fourth pillar of the democracy falling apart when it comes to Kashmir; and it breaks my heart.
Our basic principle of freedom of press, speech, expression is being taken away from us. And I clearly see that in Kamran Yousuf, Qazi Shibli, Fahad shah, Peerzada Ashiq, Asif Sultan, and the list goes on, who were called Anti-India and it was reported that they are not the “real-journalists”. But why? They wrote and captured the truth; and thus were bought down from their duties. Where is the freedom of speech then? Why don’t I see it, feel it, know it. Every other day all the budding journalists are being summoned by the government and it feels awful. Sometimes they are charged away with various allegations that aren’t even true but no one opens up about it. And if anyone does, then the consequence is dire. This attack on the journalist fraternity is just increasing day by day and I as someone who has so much to say and express, become a coward with mouth shut for I don’t want to see my family searching for me in different jails. I feel sorry for myself, I feel sorry to my own conscience knowing that I am not doing what is right. Maybe I should just get up, write about it, post it up and not think about the consequences I will have to face. But, I fail, my pen fails, the paper I try to write on remains blank, the ink is in the pen but my courage shakes and makes me feel unsure and pathetic.
But I hope, that one day I would get up and write, speak, talk aloud; and my country listens. The ink of my pen would run smoothly and I would write, and that would rewrite the history of Freedom of speech and expression in Kashmir. That day would be the day I kill the demons residing in my mind with my pen. Someday, one day, soon.
I strongly stand by the words of Noam Chomsky, “If we don't believe in freedom of expression for people we despise, we don't believe in it at all.” So, even if they despise us, let US SPEAK, PLEASE.
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