SPY EYES

Twenty-six-year old Asif Ahmad Ganie still wonders how he survived the massacre that took away more than forty lives on this day, twenty years ago, in Bijbehara, the Chinar town of Islamabad district. The Border Security Force (BSF) men are accused of killing 43 civilians here on October 22, 1993. That day people were peacefully protesting against the army siege of Hazratbal shrine in Srinagar when the BSF men suddenly opened fire. Asif, a 5th standard student then, was present among the people who had gathered on the street after offering Friday prayers. Asif was hit thrice. When he received bullets in his arms and legs, he fell on the street. He could only see blood. He thought he was dead.
Asif survived to tell the tale, but he still carries the scars on his body. And the unhealed wound is fresh in his mind. Even twenty years after the massacre, he is haunted by the blood, the cries of people as they were hit by the bullets. He saw dead bodies around him. The gory scenes refuse to leave his thoughts. He is still haunted by them. His right arm, fractured by a bullet that day, was recently operated on. A bullet had also broken through the bones of his right leg. The third bullet hit him near his crotch. After that he had fallen on the roadside, unconscious. He woke up in the hospital.
One of his cousins, a 5th standard student like him, received bullets in his face. One side of his face was blown away. He died on the spot.
Asif remembers the BSF troops who trained guns in his direction. “One BSF trooper aimed his big LMG and he opened direct fire in my direction,” he recalls, imitating the action of the BSF trooper with his hands. “I had never seen such a big gun in my life,” he says. The BSF troops had lined up their guns on the streets, he adds, all of them facing the people. Then he remembers seeing people falling around him, like a pack of cards, and cold blood coagulating on the street. “Whosoever was in the front rows, they died on the spot,” he says. “There was blood all over the street and people were shouting and running for help.”
“Those who will forget that massacre,” Asif says in an emphatic tone, “I don’t think they are human beings.”
Abdul Rasheed Shergujri, a middle aged man, was also part of the procession that came down on the main street that day after people offered Friday prayers in the Jamia Masjid. “When we reached near the highway, BSF started firing from all sides,” he recalls in his shop in the Bijbehara town market. Rasheed was shot in his leg. He lay in a pool of blood and he was crying for help. His brother Muhammad Shafi had received bullets in his head, he later found out, and died on the spot. Rasheed was later picked by one of his elder brother who took him to the hospital.
Rasheed was in the hospital for four months, recovering from his bullet injuries. He still limps and has not recovered fully from his bullet injuries. The deep scars left by the bullets are still visible on his legs. “We even filed cases against the BSF for killing our brother,” he says. “We won one case about compensation but even that was never given, leave alone punishing the killers.”
Mukhtar Ahmad Ganie, a 19-year-old vegetable seller, had tried to run into a by lane when BSF men opened fire on the procession he was part of that day.  He received a bullet in his spinal cord and succumbed on the way to the hospital.
“It was an unprovoked firing by BSF on people,” says his brother, Muhammad Rafiq as he shows a picture of his younger brother at his home in Bijbehara town. “There were not even ambulances there to take away the injured. Many people died because of the delay in reaching the hospital.”
Many people who had received fatal bullet injuries that day died of blood loss as people couldn’t pick up the injured on time. “The BSF men fired on even those who would attempt to pick up the injured,” says Rafiq. “Firing continued for around 30 minutes.” The injured and the dead were then dragged in hand carts as ambulances were nowhere in sight.
Rafiq says their family was economically dependent on Mukhtar who worked hard at a young age to earn a living for his family. He used to earn well by collecting vegetables from the rural belt, his brother says, and then he would sell it in Srinagar and other towns. Rafiq’s close friend, Muhammad Iqbal, who was studying in fourth standard that year, was also killed in the BSF firing that day.
Rafiq says many survivors and eye witnesses of the massacre, especially young boys, are still suffering from post-traumatic stress disorders in their town. He himself has to regularly consult a physiatrist to ease his stress disorder. “Recently when renowned physiatrist Dr Margoob held a free camp in Bijbehara, most of the people he treated for stress disorders here were either those who survived the massacre or those whose relatives had died in the massacre,” he says.
Altaf Ahmad Sheikh, a 9th standard student, was among the dead that day. He received a bullet near his heart. Sitting in his shop in the Bijbehara town market, his father says they filed many cases against BSF. “We didn’t want any compensation; we wanted the BSF troops to be punished as per their law,” he says. “We have spent around 6 to 7 Lakh rupees till now on the case but we didn’t get any justice.”
From a dusty cabin in his shop, he pulls put an old copy of a Urdu daily that date back to a day after the massacre. All over its black and white pages the pictures of the dead and injured are spread out along with the news of the massacre. Deserted streets littered with abandoned shoes of people can be seen on the streets photographed that day. “Those who would go to pick the injured were also shot at,” he says as he flips pages of the paper that date back to twenty years. “It was like a doomsday.”
Ali Muhammad Tak, an elderly man from the town, was also part of the procession that day. He was in the middle of the procession. When BSF troops opened fire, Tak ran for his life. He remembers a BSF trooper emptying a magazine in his direction. He received many bullets in his leg. Later, he found himself in Srinagar hospital where doctors told him that he will lose his leg. His right leg had to be cut to prevent infection from spreading to the rest of his body.  He was in the hospital for three months that year recovering from his injuries. “I was injured at around 3pm but I reached the hospital in Srinagar at around 7pm,” he recalls. “The injured were even stopped from moving ahead at many places on the way to the hospitals.”
Another local resident, Noor Muhamamd Vaid, whose 18-year-old nephew Abdul Rasheed Vaid was among the dead in Bijbehara massacre, recalls people carrying around dead bodies in hand carts that day.  Rasheed had received three bullets in his abdomen. He died on the spot.
Noor Muhammad remembers an injured man who was brought till the hospital road by his relative who was shot at and died while the injured man survived. Another old man, he says, was shot at while he was bringing dead bodies to the hospital on a hand cart.  “When graves were dug, people would come forward with the dead bodies of their relatives,” recalls Noor Muhammad. “They wanted them to be buried first,” he says. “We fell short of graves that day.”
“It was like Qayamat that day,” he says and looks away to gather his thoughts. After an uncomfortable pause, he adds, “people were shouting and running for their lives. There were dead bodies, blood and bullets flying around.” Before they lost their younger son, the family had suffered another tragedy a year ago. Abdul Rashid’s elder brother Mushtaq Ahmad was killed in custodial killing, says Noor Muhammad.
Mushtaq Ahmad Pandit, a 33-year-old tailor from Bijbehara town, is another survivor of the massacre. As BSF men opened fire in the direction of the people, he received two bullets. One bullet hit his leg and another, his left arm. His head hit a rock on the street which damaged his right ear drum. He was run over by people who were running for their lives. He doesn’t remember who picked him from the street. He woke up in the hospital later that day.
His father, Ghulam Muhammad Pandit, who was also part of the procession that day, received a bullet in his leg. He was treated in bone and joint hospital in Srinagar for two years. The doctors had asked to cut his leg but his family didn’t want him to lose his leg. He suffered from infection for many years and couldn’t move out of his home. Two years ago, he passed away. He was 70.
Shabir cannot work for long hours in his shop because of the bullet injury in his arm. He cannot hear properly and needs to permanently wear a hearing aid. He cannot lift weights. He looks older than his age. In the past twenty years his right arm had to be operated on four times. He is yet to recover from his injuries. The pain has not gone away and the memories of the dead have stayed with him. They are refreshed every year on October 22, a very painful and long day for the survivors and victims of the massacre.
Shabir says he saw a young man dying in front of his eyes that day. Those memories haunt him to this day. Twenty years mean nothing for us, he says. The memories are as fresh as his unhealed wounds.
“Soe maesha ase zahn?” he says at the end. (Can we ever forget that?)
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Source: Greater Kashmir