Showkat Ahmad Bhat

‘’ Congratulations! Gul Kaakh’’, Asad , his neighbor’s son said to him.
Gul Chaan who was feeding his goat which was tied to a peg in the compound of his mud house grinned at Asad. He got confused for being congratulated and was desperate to know the reason. It was for the first time in his life that he was congratulated. ‘’Congratulations’’ was a new word for him and for his family for the hapless people are seldom congratulated. Gul Chaan, a man in his sixties with a thin and wrinkled face and a skeletal body wrapped with a shabby torn pheran stood up, peered at Asad through his glasses, cleared his throat and said:
‘’ Dear son, what is the matter, any good news for this poor man, hahaha?’’ Gul Chaan laughed showing his pale teeth.
‘’Your son Hamza has been selected as a constable, I myself saw his name in today’s newspaper, he replied.
“Really! Gul Chaan did not believe his ears. He shivered with joy and took a pinch of snuff, ‘’ Al humdulillah,’’ he sneezed noisily.
Gul Chaan hurried to his dark mud house and gave the news to his wife and both started to wait for their son who had gone for work somewhere. Late in the evening Hamza returned to his home with a local newspaper in his hand and a smile of joy on his lips. As he stepped into the compound of his house his mother ran towards him, hugged him and kissed his forehead. Asad and some other boys of the neighborhood who had been waiting for Hamza were still there. He greeted them warmly, called them in his house and sat in the kitchen where Hamza was offered salt tea by his sister. For Asad and other boys she prepared the’ kehwa ‘. After taking the tea they gathered around a kerosene lantern and Hamza opened the newspaper. All the boys saw Hamza’s name among the selected cadets. The old couple reclined against the cushion and was looking at the young men who were reading the list of the selected cadets aloud. People started to visit their house in order to congratulate them. Sweets were distributed among the neighbors and relatives. The news was a great joy for the old couple as they had been living in an abject poverty with their lone son Hamza and a daughter.
Hamza was in early twenties while his sister was 13 years old. Being the alone son he was the apple of their eyes. Hamza was Bsc; Bed, while as his sister had never gone to school. Poverty had not allowed her to go the school. But Gul Chaan had somehow managed to pay for Hamza’s education. Though he did not own much of property but he had sold all that for Hamza’s education. They had then nothing except the mud house with a broken thatched roof and crumbling walls. Polythene sheets took the place of window glass. The thatched roof of their house had caved in. The snow would fall into the corridor of their house which would make the uneven earthen floor slippery. They wanted to repair their house but had no money. The house was completely dilapidated. Now their eyes were on Hamza and thought that he would emancipate them from poverty. The old couple had even starved for days.
Hamza had burnt midnight oil to make the dream of his parents come true. Being very poor he would borrow books from his friends and neighbors. Hamza knew his responsibility and always assured them that one day he would make their dreams come true.
‘’ My parents, have suffered much for me even starved but let me study. Can I ever do something for them?’’ Hamza said to his friend, Jaffar.
Jaffar assured him that everything would be good. Jaffar was his close friend. He was a rich lad and was living with his parents in a posh colony. His father was an IPS officer. Jaffar was studying medicine in a medical collage outside the state. He was a well built young boy having a fair appearance. For Hamza, he was the sweetest person on the earth. He would never bother to sit with Hamza on an old torn hay mat in his house where he would be offered a sugary cup of tea with a cheap cake.
Hamza’s only dream was to get a government job. His only source of income was what he earned a day by doing labor. Though he was Bsc, Bed but was doing the manual labor for his family. He wanted to be an I.A.S officer but he could not get the time for its preparation. He had to find the work to earn the bread for himself and for his family. He had already applied for some jobs but he could not get any. Dejected, he one day told his friend to help him in getting any job in JKP. Being the son of an IPS officer Jaffar was in a position to help him. But he did not like the idea of his friend of joining the police force.
‘’ Do you want to work in police as a constable, are you in your senses?’’ Jaffar rebuked his friend. ‘’ Do you know what you are, you were always a topper’. Study for KAS or IAS and I hope that you can crack the examination,’’ Continued Jaffar. But Hamza justified his position saying that he could not even qualify for the teacher post. Nepotism and corruption are on rise and the relatives of corrupt politicians get the good jobs. To get a job even of a constable one has to face the tough competition.
Hamza heard from his neighbor that there was a ‘’Police barti’’ in the district. He thought that it was a golden chance for him to get a job. His friend’s father can do him a favor if he is asked. He approached Jafar for help as his father was a highly influential official and had a good approach. Jafar did not like his decision thinking that Hamza like talented boy would go to waste. But Hamza insisted him for doing the favor. He invited Jafar to his home where Jafar tried to persuade the old couple not to encourage Hamza to join the police force. But the old couple paid no heed to his utterances. They defended their case. They even reminded him the tragedy that had happened with Hamza some years ago. He was eligible for the R.e.t post in his village. He was at serial no 2nd. He worked tooth and nail for the generation of the post in his village, even bribed the corrupt employees in the ZEO and CEO offices. At last the school was sanctioned. He looked very hopeful and cheerful. But when he submitted his file in the office, he found a new file with an unfamiliar name, Shabnam Akhter, M.SC, M.ED; Wife of Mohammad Irfan. Irfan was his next door neighbor, but he was not yet married. That put him in suspicion. Irfan himself was a general line teacher. The woman was not from his village. Now Hamza stood at serial no 03. He had least chances then. His father approached Irfan and begged him to withdraw the file.
‘’ Son, you are a government employee and thank God you are drawing a handsome salary. If your wife does not get a job you can survive and can manage your family comfortably, you own much land also. Think of us, we have no other sources, we will starve if Hamza does not get a job’’ Gul Chaan held the feet of Irfan. But irfan frowned at him and denied. Gul Chaan returned home heartbroken.
But Hamza did not give up. Yet he had not been completely chocked. There was still some breath in him. He was still hopeful. He thought that the justice can be delayed but not denied. He approached the CEO, ZEO and even to the court, but all in vain. Irfan secretly married, paid hush money to the village head and the other members and Hamza was denied justice. That day nothing was cooked in their house. The old couple sat silent and looked at the stars whole night, perhaps thinking what was stored for their son. His sister could not stop crying. There was mourning in their house.
At last Jafar was persuaded for doing a favor and on the recommendation of Jafar’s father Hamza was selected as a police constable. The day was like Eid for Hamza and his family. They hoped for the better future then. They had not to starve for days. They would renovate their old dilapidated mud house. Hamza was very curious when to join the department as the final list was yet to be published in the newspaper. He was eagerly waiting for the day and everyday he would search in the every page of the newspaper. It was only after a month that the final list was published in the local newspaper and Hamza found his name in the list.
He had to undergo a nine months training course and he was feared by many that it was a very herculean task and he could not withstand that. But Hamza was ready to take any challenge though he knew some people who had abandoned the job during the training course. They tried to depress him by telling about the hardships. But he had seen poverty and hunger and they were a source of motivation for him. The wrinkled poverty- stricken faces of his parents would appear before him. Hamza was the only hope for them. He had not to disappoint them. And at last he joined the training college. The course was not easy as already said. Keeping into account the pathetic plight of his family he had to withstand all that. He started to feel homesick. He missed his parents and his sister in the training college. The new life in the camp disgusted him. The bad language of his seniors and their ill behavior tortured him. The day’s hard labor and the bad language of the trainer nearly killed him. The PTC principal was a corrupt official and so were his seniors and subordinates. He wanted to run away from the camp once for all. But the poverty and the misery of his parents stopped him. Perhaps his friend was wise. He would think that he has destroyed himself. Once his trainer abused him for being slack and slapped him hard on his face. Hamza got irritated and wanted to pay him back but restrained himself. He would only weep secretly thinking what to do and where to go? He had no other option before him and those other options had already disappointed him. He thought that life was full of thorns for an unfortunate person like him. He wanted to run once for all from the training college. He had already run from the college three times earlier but was compelled by his parents to return. But this time he was determined to leave the job and never return.
That evening he slipped from the training college with bag and baggage, boarded a bus to his home. From the window he looked at the young trees that seemed to be running fast with him. He thought that they were running like him and leaving him behind. The road was covered in a blanket of snow. His thoughts hovered around the decision he had taken of slipping from the college. Perhaps it was a wrong decision he had taken and it could even break the hearts of his parents. It would dash their hopes. The other cadets got used with the new life in the college but he was not satisfied. He tried to divert his attention towards the snowcapped mountains and the falling of the snow. He tried to motivate himself that his decision was good. He was caught between the devil and the deep sea. The driver was driving the bus very fast. It was getting dark. People were coming out from the mosques after evening prayers.
Late at night he was at the front door of his house. He was shivering with cold. The snowflakes were falling gently into the gaps in the windows. The moon behind the silken veil looked desolate. The dogs were barking at some distance. He could hear the talks of his family members who were perhaps dining in the kitchen. He dropped his baggage on the floor. He thought for a while standing at the front door like a statue not knowing what to do. He mustered the courage and knocked at the door. Hearing the knock at the door his sister started crying out of fear. ‘’Babba, it is me, Hamza ,’’ he hurriedly cried. They were taken aback by Hamza’s sudden appearance. His father got up with a kerosene lantern in his hand. He coughed and opened the door for him.
‘’Asalamualaikum, Babba’’.’’ Hamza looked at his father’s worn and pale face. ‘’What is the matter, son? ‘’Gul Chaan gasped .Without answering his father’s question he entered the kitchen. His father followed him to the kitchen. He sat on a torn hay mat, sighed and asked his sister for a glass of water. His mother offered him’ kangri’. He put his hands on the’ kangri’ to warm them. The mud walls of the kitchen were cracked and the bare bricks exposed. He was looking at those cracked mud walls and the wooden shelves on which a few earthen pots were kept. His sister brought him a glass of water. He took a short draught. All of the members of his family sat around the lantern which was placed in the centre of the room. In the jaundiced light of the lantern they stared at each other keeping mum.
‘’ You must be hungry, son, his mother broke the silence. ‘’ I have eaten nothing since morning,’’ he replied. But there was nothing ready that could be served to him as they had finished eating. But his sister was still eating and had some morsels still left in her plate. Her running nose was obstructing her to eat comfortably. She cleared her running nose with the sleeves of her ‘pheran’ and offered the plate to her brother but he denied and blessed her. After finishing with those morsels she stood up and lit the stove. Hamza hesitated and told her not to give herself any trouble. But his sister prepared a cup of tea for him and served the tea in a cracked porcelain cup with a burnt chapatti as there was no more rice in the house. There was a dead silence in the room, only the sound of Hamza’s sipping of tea could be heard in the intervals. In the jaundiced light he could see the haggard picture of his parents who were gazing at him. They were in a deep thought, thinking what to say. At last his father mustered the courage. He cleared his throat and said,’’ Hamza, I fear you have fled from the training collage; you were here a few days before, you had complained about the job, now again, what is the matter dear? ‘’I will not do this mean job,’’ Hamza cried violently while munching a piece of bread.
‘’A constable lives the life of a dog. A sweeper who cleans the toilets of people is better than a police constable; I am ready to do a job of a coolie, a hawker or a roadside vendor but not the job of a police constable,’’ he burst and began to weep. His parents were dumbfounded.
Hamza buried his head between his knees and wept vehemently. His sister and mother cried with him. His mother told her husband not to compel him and let him to stay at his home. But his father did not like his decision. He thought that now a days it has become a dream to have a government job. Poverty had eaten half of the life of his parents. Perhaps it had become their fate. Their son had been a hope for them but he was about to disappoint them. Whatever they had they had sold that for Hamza’s education. Gul Chaan had a young daughter and he had thought Hamza would help him in easing his burden. He thought to strangle himself and his daughter.
‘’Son, have a mercy on me, your sister and on your mother,’’ Gul Chaan went crazy and held the feet of his son. He looked at his son with tearful eyes as if was begging him something. Hamza felt ashamed and got confused what to do. He wiped his tears and held his father tightly in his arms and felt the bones of his father. He thought that how weak and fragile his father has grown because of starvations and miseries. He would never let them to starve again, he thought. ‘’Forgive me my father, I was selfish. I never thought about you, about my young sister and about my mother. I will return and complete the course and one day you will feel proud of me. I will suffer to make you rejoice. I will bear the bitter truth of life,’’ Hamza assured him while wiping his tears with sleeves.
His father knew the hardships through which his son was going in the training collage. But he thought that his son had to suffer only for a few months and the rest of his life would be comfortable. He was also afraid of poverty and thought that poverty is ugly and stinky. Gul Chaan had seen poverty. He knew that it is without relatives and without companions and makes a man die slowly.
Quite early in the morning after taking tea Hamza returned the training college. He returned against his wishes. He was punished for slipping from the camp. His trainer abused him, pulled his hair and slapped him. But he had to tolerate what was before him. He had to suffer so that his parents could rejoice. He had to weep so that they could smile. He sacrificed himself for his family. It was a jihad for him to feed his family: his hungry and miserable parents and his sister. Though he hated his job like poison but he had to drink that poison for his parents. He was not the only trainee in the camp who suffered but the other trainees would also suffer. Most of them were like him- poor, hungry and miserable. They were waiting for the day to be passed out so that they could live like humans not like animals. In the training college, they were subjected to inhuman treatment. Most of them complained the ill treatment given to them in the collage. They were given substandard food which marred their health. The future protectors of the law and property were made skeletal! They were being taught bad language and even bribes would be taken from them. This is what Hamza hated the most.
After some months the cadets were passed out. It was after the hectic job of nine months that they began to heave the sigh of relief. They were supposed to be posted at different places. They were granted leave for a few days. Hamza also was granted the leave and he visited his home. His family received him warmly and congratulated him on completing the course. They had now many plans before them as Hamza would draw a monthly salary of RS 15000. This would be enough for them to live a better life. They decided to renovate their old house, look for the bridegroom for their girl and a bride for Hamza. Though during the training course a remuneration of RS 9000 was paid to the cadets but they had to spend that amount on their own selves.
He joined the department after spending a few days at his home. He was posted in a district police line. But his hardships were not yet over. He was not happy with corrupt officers and seniors. Besides being corrupt, they were also vulgar and lacked human feelings. Their behavior was not acceptable to him. The common man was not happy with them. They did not show respect to the elderly men and did not hear the genuine complaints of the poor and the downtrodden. They misbehaved with the prisoners and with the poor complainants and always delayed the actions against the criminals. Hamza would think that the policemen are the most uncivilized men on the earth. Corruption had entered even to the department which was to work for the welfare and for the protection of the society and for its people. But a layman was feeling insecure among them. They were thought to be the supporters of criminals, smugglers and the thugs who paid them hush money. Hamza was disgusted and repented over the blunder which he had committed of joining the uncivilized force. Though he had not joined the force for the defense of people and for the protection of their property; he had joined for himself and for his family; but after joining the force he thought that he was now a responsible person and was the guardian of law. To protect the people and their property and honor was his duty. He sometimes delivered the moral lessons to some of his colleagues who were the new recruits like him. Most of them shared his thoughts and were ready to be civilized and the well-wishers of the public. He could not utter a single word against the corrupt officials and against his seniors because that would put his life and job at stake. He thought them mafia. He saw them demanding the bribes from the people. But he somehow managed to change the mindset of some of them. They respected him for his noble nature and good character. A few of his seniors came to know about him, appreciated him and began to support his views. But there were yet many corrupt men who were much uncivilized tyrants. He wanted to leave the job but poverty had tied his legs. It was written in his stars to be in the police. Police was supposed to protect the life and the property of people but the things were opposite inside.
One day there was disturbance in the town. People had taken to streets to protest against the arrest of a local youth by the police. They demanded the immediate release of the youth. The protesters turned violent and started pelting stones at the police station. Hamza’s battalion was deployed to the tense area to counter the protesters and maintain law and order. They were instructed not to use any violent force against the unarmed protesters. They were provided batons and shields. The policemen appeared on the road and asked the people to shun the violence and return their homes. But the people did not listen and started to pelt the stones at the policemen. One of the bricks hit Hamza’s forehead and his forehead started bleeding profusely. One of his colleagues got angry and in a fit of anger he ran towards the stone pelters with his baton. Though Hamza and other policemen called at him not to go near the angry mob but he did not listen. The angry mob caught hold of him and lynched him to death. Hamza and the other policemen watched like mute spectators. The policemen hurled abuses at the mob and they abused them back. The police control room was informed about the death of the policeman. The CRPF men and more policemen appeared from nowhere and ran amuck. They started to baton charge the mob ruthlessly. The mob continued and did not give up. The stone pelters again appeared on the scene and resumed their job of stone pelting. Many CRPF men and policemen got injured and in a fit of anger they fired a burst of bullets at the protesters. That led to the blood bath. The earth turned red and only the pathetic cries could be heard from everywhere. Dozens of men lied in a pool of blood; some were dead and some seriously injured. The injured were shifted to hospitals and the dead to their homes to be buried. The gory sight of the bloodbath lead Hamza and some of his colleagues dumbfounded.
The killings of the civilians added more fuel to the fire. The massacre enraged not only the people of the town but also of the whole valley. People took to streets to protest against the brutal killings of youths. The separatist leaders released their press notes in the newspapers and on the social networks. They condemned the brutal act of the police and the CRPF personals. They appealed the people to continue their protests and not to give up. They even appealed the people to observe the social boycott with the local police personals who being the Kashmiris kill their own people at the orders of imperial India. The CM (Chief Minister) ordered for an impartial enquiry and the opposition parties held the present government responsible for the brutal act. The opposition parties left no stone unturned to debunk the flaws that lied in the present government and thus the blame game started. The whole valley was on fire. The people were angry with the police. The local policemen were very much afraid to visit their homes by local buses or by any passenger vehicles. People stopped the buses and checked the identity card of any person whom they suspect for being a policeman. Many policemen who traveled to their homes in civic were beaten to pulp by the angry people.
In order to maintain law and order, an indefinite curfew was imposed in the sensitive areas. The separatist leaders issued fresh calendar asking people to observe hartal for five days in a week. This process continued for more than three months. People remained confined to their rooms. Not a mouse was allowed to creep on the deserted streets. The hartal calendars issued by separatist leaders and the indefinite curfew imposed by the government were a blessing for the government employees and a curse for bus drivers, taxi owners, shopkeepers and the laborers. The government employees could easily draw their salaries without doing any work and they were spending their whole days in gossiping and sleeping. While as a common man was starving and dying. The poor laborer could not find any work. A bus driver and a taxi driver stared at their damaged vehicles lying in the compound of their houses. Their vehicles were damaged by the stone pelters when they had dared to ply their vehicles on the roads to earn bread for their families.
The police had a very tough time. The duty was heavy and they could not get the time to sleep and sometimes they starved for days together. The death news was common. Every day people died, policemen and the CRPF got injured. The land of paradise was burning like a hell fire. The painful sighs and cries were heard everywhere. There was only one slogan from the all corners of Kashmir valley: ‘’GO INDIA, GO BACK’’. Policemen were asked to resign their jobs and join the ongoing struggle. But all of those police constables were from poor families and they knew that if they resigned, their families would starve. They were in dilemma what to do. They were killing their own people. People attacked them with stones and bricks and were expecting sugar balls in return. They fired in air to disperse the angry mob but the people did not give up and then they would retaliate with the bullets. The cunning politicians succeeded in their evil designs. The ongoing freedom struggle turned into a civil war.
In one of such an incident many policemen from Hamza’s group sustained minor and major injuries. One among them was Hamza’s close friend Jawaad. He was seriously injured and was in coma. Hamza knew that his friend was very poor like him. He missed him in the police line. Jawaad would sleep in the bed next to Hamza’s. Hamza remembered the day when they had mutually decided to resign the mean job. But poverty and misery had come their way and warned them:
’’ come fools, I will suck your blood, I am blood thirsty, make you and your families to starve; make beggars of your parents and prostitutes of your sisters; people are afraid of me because I am ugly, stinky, weary and without any mercy; I am the source of tragedies and misfortunes, I spread diseases; none is my relative. I am the companion of unfortunate and fools like you; death is my assistant and life is my enemy.’’
Hamza gaped at the empty bed next to him.
He remembered also that day when one morning Jawaad received a phone call from his home through which he was informed that his mother was seriously ill and she was looking from him. The news brought tears to the eyes of Jawaad and he thought that his mother might be on death bed. He approached his officer and begged him for a leave. But his officer answered him with abuses and did not grant him a leave.
‘’ Don’t you know bastard what is happening in the town? People have run amuck and are on rampage. Who will maintain law and order, your father?
’’ But sir, my mother is very ill, Jawaad dared. ‘’Get lost you bastard,’’ the officer yelled.
Jawaad felt uncomfortable. His mother’s memory did not allow him to rest for a second and he decided to his visit his ailing mother anyhow. He ran away from the camp without informing the office. After five days he returned the camp. He was given a very severe punishment. All his colleagues saw him being punished. None dared to say a word. That was the rule in force. Jawaad could not sleep at nights because of pain. Hamza would massage him every day in order to relieve him of pain. He cried whole nights and fell asleep by dawn. But now he was in coma because stones had hit his head. His memory brought tears to the eyes of Hamza. His painful cries still echoed in the ears of Hamza. He was on the death bed waiting for the death to take him.
The situation was brought under control. People were fed up with the curfews and the strikes. Authorities lifted curfew almost in every area and the separatist leaders stopped issuing the hartal calendars. It was after some three months the common man started to heave a sigh of relief. Policemen especially the local constables were happy and wished normalcy to continue. They had no heavy duty then. Sometimes they would be sent to markets for fetching some goods or for patrolling. One afternoon Hamza and three more policemen were sent for patrolling to the nearby town. It was a very hot afternoon. There was rush in the market. The intense heat, noise made by vehicles, road side vendors and the dust of the dusty roads had made the every pedestrian very lazy. People were looking tired and exhausted. They were drenched in sweat. Some complained that they were in hell. Hamza and the other three policemen had the same experience. They were looking at their watches. One of the policemen was talking to a grocer. The other two were sitting near a shop front dozing. A motorcyclist passed by them and stopped some feet away. Hamza was talking with his sister on mobile phone. He was some feet away from the policemen who were sitting near a shop. He was talking in a very high pitch and his colleagues who were sitting very close to him could hear what he was saying to his sister.
‘’No, not this Sunday, inshaallah next Sunday, no, the leave was not granted, say my salaam to Babba and Aapa.’’
He was about to bid her goodbye when something hit in his chest and he gave a painful cry. The call was still going on and his sister heard the gunshots. She cried on the phone, ‘’ maen baya kuez?’’. (O my brother, what happened?). Her brother did not reply. She heard only a painful cry of her brother and the gunshots. He fell on the ground with a thud. His sister sensed that her brother was shot at and ran to her parents who were sitting in another room. Her mother was stitching her old torn pheran and her father reclined against cushion thinking.
‘’ Mouji, Babba, aeseha peaw taawan, Humza ha moarukh’’( O mother, father, we have been devastated, Hamza has been killed), their daughter cried. Zoon Begum fainted with a shriek and Gul Chaan cried. Some unidentified gunmen had appeared from nowhere on a motor cycle and shot from point blank range at three of them. The policeman who was talking with a grocer survived. He was some yards away from the slain policemen. He ran in the crowd who were running for their lives after hearing gunshots. All the three dead bodies were in the pool of blood. The shopkeepers and the road side vendors fled leaving their business open. The crows perched atop of the electric poles were crowing. The kites started hovering over the dead bodies planning to eat the cheap flesh and had a great feast. The dead left hand of Hamza still carried the mobile phone and his right hand a baton. All the policemen were dead with their mouths wide open towards the sky. A police gypsy with an ambulance reached at the spot. The dead bodies were carried to the police station and then to their native villages.
Late at night Hamza’s dead body reached to his native village. Neighbors, relatives and friends had already gathered at his courtyard. There were shrieks and cries to be heard. The neighbors felt very sad for him as he had been a very humble, obedient and God fearing boy. His sister was beating her chest and his mother half conscious shrank in a corner of her newly renovated room. She was surrounded by some women who were offering her a glass of water. His father seemed to have lost his sense. He thought himself responsible for his son’s death. It was he who had compelled him to do the job of a police constable. ‘’ I have killed you my son, I am your killer,’’ Gul Chaan yelled. He had never imagined that one day he will have to shoulder the coffin of his son. The old couple was devastated .The thread of their dreams slit. The crutch of their old age was broken. They had to shed the tears till their deaths. Hamza was their future and their hope but he was no more.
Hamza’s and his colleagues’ news of death spread like a wild fire in the whole valley. The news became a debate on the social networks. People shared their feelings. Being angry with the policemen most of the people celebrated the news and appreciated the feat of the killers. Jafar, who was in Bangalore read the news on the social network. He was shocked to know that his friend was among the slain policemen. He broke down and tears streamed down from his eyes. He got angry on reading a comment by one of the facebook users: ‘’ jigar shehleaw’’ (my soul found peace)
’’ Kiwn, kiya teray jigar par masoom insanoon ka thanda khoon padgaya’’ (Has the cold blood of innocents relieved your heart ), Jafar replied the comment. Jafar’s comment was taken down by the biased administrator of the page.
For Jafar, he and the other policemen were martyrs who gave their lives for filling the bellies of their hungry families. They were on the mission when they were martyred.
‘’Misfortunes never come alone and poverty is curse’’.

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