Rafi Giri
Though we knew it only at the dawn of a new day in the late dark hours of night, the vehicle he was travelling in had met with accident around 10 pm on 20.04.1985. It was an earthshaking moment which changed so much in our lives so irreversibly. We had lost sun of our world, our hero and our everything. Everyone, my grandparents, uncles, our mother and few others rushed some to hospital and other to accident site to see him .We two brothers and one sister were locked in the room and I can never forget the scene of our crying through the windows. We didn’t know what actually had happened and is going on because of our being too young. In the morning I remember someone taking me to hospital and I in the lap of someone on the foot side of my father’s bed whose head was completely wrapped in bandages with eyes turned swollen black and few people on his head side holding him back on bed as he was yelling and shouting owing to his serious head injuries. Soon I was taken away from there and he was flown by government chopper to SMGS Hospital, Jammu called by then DIG of Police Jammu Zone who also visited him to hospital in Kishtwar. On the same day in afternoon people started coming to our ancestral home in native village Pochhal and shifting material from rooms. I didn’t know what this was all going on except the pain of the scene of my father’s injury-ridden bandage wrapped head and his shouting and yelling in hospital which I even today cannot forget. The next morning on 22nd April, 1985 I saw the dead body of my father in a departmental vehicle being brought down to our home and everyone crying and yelling. I still remember soon after his last bath as per Islamic rituals his round fair face in the coffin which was shown to me from the lap of someone and thereafter, subsequently guarded by a small police platoon his coffin wrapped in tricolor National Flag being taken to our native graveyard for the burial. He was given guard of honor by Police and finally buried leaving behind his memories and family with tender age kids in a state of total shock and despair.
Our lives go on without you
But nothing is the same
We have to hide our heartache
When someone speaks your name
Sad are the hearts that love you
Silent are the tears that fall
Living without you is the hardest part of all
You did so many things for us
Your heart was so kind and true
And when we needed someone
We could always count on you
The special years will not return
When we are all together
But with the love in our hearts
You walk with us forever
My father died when he was just touching his thirties and I was only 5 years old in 1985. I don’t have too much of his memories except few his sights flashing in my memory as I was too young at that time. My pain of memories of his injured bandage wrapped head on the bed at hospital, his face in the coffin and his funeral are unforgettable till today. The most profoundly painful thing that I recently came to know is that after the accident of my father around 10 pm on 20.04.1985 when all injured were shifted to SDH hospital Kishtwar , he was missed by the rescuing people as he had fallen few meters down of the hill from the rest of the visible injured passengers. It was only in the wee hours of the next morning at hospital around 0400 hours that one of my father’s colleague when restored his consciousness asked about him. He told police and people who were at hospital that Ghulam Hassan has not been brought to hospital and that he needs to be immediately brought in for treatment. It is at this moment of time in wee hours of morning of 21.04.1985 that police immediately rushed to the accident site while informing relatives of my father. Reaching at the site of accident my father was seen lying on ground on back supine with both hands under the back occipital head bone with total blood lost on ground in extremely serious condition. He had suffered serious head injury and had lost almost all blood from the time of accident at 10 pm to the morning around 0400 hours, during almost a gape of six hours. It was too late for my father and he was already breathing his last in extremely critical condition.
The love of our father towards his kids like every father was profound and very deep. Kids were world to him. My mother told me that he loved so much his kids and would come to home any time getting leave or chance without any consideration whether it was day or night, rainy or dry day and from any distance. She told me that I used to call him more often ’tilla’ than ‘daddy’ and my father would love to hear this name from me. We would very often urinate his clothes and he used to wash the feet of my sister in his rice plate .He always preferred to keep his family along and it was during his posting at Udampur that my birth took place. He loved me so much that he would very often say that he would not send me for schooling to avoid school stress. He would love to hold us on his shoulders and to spend maximum time with us. At the time of his death he was living separately with his small family because of the marriage of his other brothers. We were the happiest family at that time before that dark night which tore all our dreams apart. He had just dug for the foundation for his house and started its construction.
My father was the elder most son of my grandfather who was employed and shared the maximum responsibility of the family .He got first two employments in Agriculture and Jail Police department but because of his passion of Police Service he left both and joined only J&K Police in 1977. On 09.04.1985 in connection with investigation of case FIR No.41 of 1985 U/Ss 382/341 RPC of Police Station Kishtwar as a part of the police team he went to Palmar Patimhalla and on 20.04.1985 when they were returning back towards Kishtwar their vehicle bearing No.JKN-6327 met with accident at Bandarkote Bindraban, almost 8kms from Kishtwar town. He played crucial role in providing the education and job to his brothers .He worked very hard for his family in those days when there were not too much resources and facilities available. All the family members would give him high regards and obey his directions .His sisters and brothers because of their love towards him would call him “lalla” and he would always come up to their expectations.
After the sudden death of our father at our very tender age it changed everything for us. There was a whole change in our life. Despair and sorrow has taken the place of joy and happiness. The comfort was gone and we had forgotten our dreams. It was not same everything .There was pity towards us on everybody’s face and as we know after few days only we had to face the brunt and carry on the affairs of life. We faced very tough times and got the chance to know people better and closely. I would like to say proudly that our mother was the support that got us through all these tough times, though it was an immense loss for her at personal level. The following years were difficult. Every time we have missed our father. It was a joyless and stressful childhood. Our mother would work for hours in the night for us because we were living in our own separate small home. The loss of our father met us with both good and bad people .Some people kind of laughed at us and there were some who encouraged us. Actually we were exposed to the real world that we are living in and different natured human beings, some kind and some other way round. With the passage of time we became more mature with the understanding of the fact that actually finally all of us has to die but some die a little younger like my dad and some get some time to kind of get contended.
The sacrifice and martyrdom of our father is supreme. There cannot be a better example of martyrdom than sacrificing your young life in the line of duty just in touching thirties when everyone is supposed to have and cherish dreams of joyful life and career. We can never forget you. You were our hero. We always remember you, you lived for us and today on your 41st Death Anniversary, we pray to Almighty to accept your supreme martyrdom for a place in heavens.
(The author is SSP, J&K Police)
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