(
Sunetra Choudhury is Associate Editor, National Affairs, NDTV 24x7)
Maybe it was the fact that I had finished my assignment and was on my way home - the reporter in me could finally take a breath and act like any other human being. Maybe, it was just the number of people who came up to us at the airport to tell us how much they appreciated the reporters who came out to Kashmir to cover their story (as if our measly efforts were anything compared to what they had all experienced!). And then maybe it was the very eloquent captain of my flight to Delhi who, obviously overcome with the collective experience of the entire planeload of passengers, was immersed in a long commentary of what was going on. As the pilot's reassuring voice hit us like a much needed balm, I desperately looked for ways to stop my runaway tears into becoming a full-throated bawl.
Our flight was supposed to take off at 4:50 pm, which is when the Srinagar cut off usually is, and it was close to 9 pm. But, we all knew, there was nothing usual about the day. If it had been a usual day, we would have all cribbed, cussed, started pushing each other around and generally behaved badly. But, how can you do that when you know that for most of your co-passengers who are either homeless or missing someone, a plane being delayed is the most normal part of their day? The delay was because there were six more flights cued up to take-off before us, all of them filled with passengers who were fleeing what one Kashmiri called 'a holocaust.' 50 per cent of them were migrant labourers, who had braved lathis of the airport security guards at the gates, who didn't know how to control such large numbers, and were now taking their first plane rides thanks to the government ordering free seats.
So there I sat between two employees of Indigo in the middle seat. On one side, I had the vice-president of their air operations, Alphonso Das and on the other side, I had their company doctor, Rajkumar Karwani. "Should we give her some food doctor?" asked one flight attendant. He told her to give some juice, for now. I couldn't help but inquire who was ill. "One of our employees," he said and that's when I figured out how many of them were travelling on this last flight of the day. Dr Karwani, was just one of the Indigo team members from Delhi that were doing a daily commute so that the Srinagar operations could keep afloat. 30 of their Srinagar colleagues had simply disappeared in the deluge and 15 were just too overwhelmed seeking family members or trying to put a roof over their family's heads. So their Delhi colleagues were forced to step in, daily commuting because Srinagar didn't have any hotel rooms to accommodate them. "I can call my friend at the air force base," I heard one crew member telling another, "How many do they need." When he was told 20 were staying back, he shook his head knowing that none of his contacts could help and his colleagues were probably going to be left to fend for themselves.
So, you've come in to fill in for your colleagues, I asked Dr Karwani. "I volunteered because I left the place 25 years ago," he said, explaining that he was one of the Kashmiri Pandits who left. I gasped, looking at him expectantly to tell me, under what circumstances he left, the obvious pain it must have caused and what it must be like for him to be back under such painful circumstances again. But Dr Karwani just looked at me as if it was self-explanatory. Did he manage to visit his home? Was it flooded? "I don't know, I was the only doctor at the airport and I was busy all day," he said matter-of-factly, adding that he probably wouldn't have gone even if he wasn't busy. While I was overcome with emotion, I asked what motivated him and he said something that explained it all - "I came and will come every day till it's needed because I felt I needed to serve my state."
In my experience as a journalist, I had come across many stories of Kashmiri Pandits and I had some preconceived notions about how they all felt about the place they left behind, and there was this dignified man with a past, with lots of emotional baggage, doing what he felt he had to do - help out his people.
I was yet to grasp the full intensity of Dr Karwani's story when my other co-passenger, Alphonso started telling me other stories. How their manager took a boat, walked, found any way they could to get to work and related the story of their neighbour whose kids were washed away in the car, just as they were about to leave following a telephone warning. "She just left the kids in the car to go pick up something from the house and the water came and took them away," he said. He told me how some other crew members got a raft from Delhi and used that and other means to deliver food and water to colleagues. He shared these stories with me, just as I noticed other passengers were sharing their own tales, their videos of the water, and the fortunate ones were sharing their stories of escape.
I heard these and thought of just the past few days I spent there. I thought of the women of Naikbagh pulling my arm to ask why I had come so late. I thought of the young men, the anger in their eyes, seeing me as yet another person who might fail their expectations. And I thought of the numerous men and women who offered me tea after showing me how much damage they had to bear. I looked up and saw the flight attendant - she was smiling although I knew she was tired as hell. "Could I have a napkin please?" I asked and soon after, I allowed myself a private cry. I may not have been able to help out in Kashmir but these few days, I knew, had forever changed me.
Disclaimer: The opinions expressed within this blog are the personal opinions of the author. NDTV is not responsible for the accuracy, completeness, suitability, or validity of any information on this blog. All information is provided on an as-is basis. The information, facts or opinions appearing on the blog do not reflect the views of NDTV and NDTV does not assume any responsibility or liability for the same.