Not long ago in June 1949 in the enchanting valley of Kashmir a beautiful Kashmiri woman Saeeda Begum gave birth to her second child, a baby girl , she was named Anjum meaning a Star in the constellation of Gemini, either Castor or Pollux this is not known till today,
Grandmother Hamida Begum had prayed for a son.....
It was dark outside the old three storey mansion called "Barzalla Baghat" the small barely covered room smelt strangely dismally oily, perhaps the kerosene lamp wick was at its last end.
The light flickered as Grandma Hamida Begum bent to put the wrapped little life, on the bed beside her exhausted semiconscious mother. The labor ordeal was over at last. Grandma mumbled under her breath, "Ah my poor back.
I wonder what son Rashid would be doing in Burma at this hour?”The Japs are close they say..this World War , the second time....will it ever end…..and here the Gurkhas and the Indians, what a time , what future! Oh Allah, have Mercy on us.”
It should have been a boy' Ah but then he would have gone to the war front., maybe its better this way.....'Grandma was not happy at all. And so began the Life of Anjum in an occupied land; she was a born refugee.........destined to cross barbed wire fences, destined to breathe in captured airspace, destined to hear gunfire instead of rhymes and songs, but who knows, maybe destined to shine, as she was born in the brightest of the Gemini skies.
June was always cool in the Kashmir valley.
Many still preferred to move to Jammu , the city on the other side.
Grandfather Mohammed Hassan would say "I always wish to be in Srinagar during the summer" He was very happy with his second wife Wazir Begum, fair beautiful devoted . She had the God given gift of premonition.
'Oh Please no, no, O Allah. save my son'
'What is it'?
Wazir Begum was sitting on her bed.,tears streaming down her fair cheeks. She had seen something greatly disturbing in her dream.Her dreams often came true.
'The Japs have surrounded the camp. Rashid ! Rashid!
Mohammed Hassan started praying, mumbling Holy phrases , hardly audible.
Grandma Wazir Begum stayed wide awake till dawn. Finally she was at peace.
'I think he is OK now'.
And in Barzalla Baghat there was half mourning and half celebration
The clouds of war hung dark and low over the house where the Gemini baby girl had arrived. She had dark eyes, dark hair and a round apple like face.
She would be the apple of everyone's eye.
The war clouds grew darker. World nations were involved. Dr. Capt. Rashid serving with the Royal British Indian officer doctors in Indonesia was stationed on the island of Java . The Indian army under the command of the British Allied Forces had been sent there to fight against the Japanese forces advancing from the East.
Capt Rashid thought of his daughter the first one Rashda, he never knew about Anjum. He would only know about her on his return to Srinagar, Kashmir, the Northern most State in the Indian subcontinent, but when would that be? No one knew, no one could say.
Java an island, was a wet battle ground with constant shelling by the enemy.
Capt Rashids unit being the Army Medical support unit was always away from the front line.
One day , there was heavy shelling by the Japs. It continued till the afternoon.
'The kitchen is cold, the soldiers will need food, but where is the cook'?
Looking around the camouflaged camp Capt Rashid found the cook shivering in a nearby trench.
'What are you doing there?
'Sir, the shells are coming and falling and you are thinking of food sir?”
'Get out of that trench and start cooking, no shell has yet killed a cook' .
Capt Rashid was a daring officer,he inspired his fellow officers with his sense of humour and positive thinking.
Little did he know that he would be faced with the most trying moment of his newly set in career. A moment of decision that would change his life forever. A moment when he would find himself to be deep in the midst of his enemies right in his home town. The deep game of occupation was already afoot in the Valley of Kashmir.
