‘House arrest’ turns J&K kids cranky

SRINAGAR: Dayim is six years old. Every day, he grabs his Tom and Jerry backpack and gets ready for class. But there is no school to go to. Schools and colleges have remained shut in Srinagar for almost 45 days now and it’s beginning to tell on the Valley’s children. They have become restless, cranky and irritable.

And helpless parents across this troubled half of J&K see no solution to their own growing anxiety. “He misses his friends and teacher,” said Dayim’s father Syed, giving only his first name. “I cannot compensate for what he’s losing out on. I am at a loss.” Syed, who lives in downtown Srinagar, at a crowded locality called Hawal, added, “Dayim can’t even go out to a park to play. The curfew won’t allow him. It’s just so sad.”

It’s worse for parents with teenagers. Ghulam Mohiuddin, who runs a shop that sells stoles and scarves at Dal Gate and lives in Miskeenbagh, the older, riskier part of Srinagar, said, “I have two sons. One is in first year, the other in class 8. I’ve bought a carrom board and badminton racquets for them, but how long can a 52-year-old father keeping his growing sons preoccupied.”

What Mohiuddin worries about most is the influence the violence could have on his young sons. “Their behavior has changed. The elder one, especially, is very depressed. ‘Future kharab ho gaya’ he keeps saying. They are getting affected by what is happening outside. And that is what I really dread. They should not do something from which there is no return. I have to be so careful with what I tell them. They can react anytime.”

Reports of attacks on Kashmiri students who’ve gone out to study in Delhi, Chandigarh, Aligarh, Bangalore and elsewhere are not helping matters. “There’s no security for our children,” Mohiuddin said. “Not even in next door Jammu.”

It’s not for the first time that schools and educational institutions have been closed for so long in Kashmir, and it won’t be the last. Parents here know that. Classes were suspended for over 100 days in 2010, forcing hundreds of parents, if not thousands, to shift their wards to other states.

Dr Hilal Ahmad, who lives and practices at Bemina, a Srinagar locality, said, “My son Sowban is in class 10 and goes to the prestigious Burn Hall school. He is now wondering how he will prepare for the boards.” Sowban, 15, who wants to be a professional footballer, is philosophical. “It’s not only me who is suffering. My friends are equally depressed. Our exams are in October and our syllabus is yet to be completed.”

Education minister Naeem Akhtar has a strange take on the crisis. Brushing aside the fact that there is curfew for 43 days now, he said, “As far as we are concerned, schools have been asked to remain open, and they are. Teachers in certain schools have been coming, too. It’s the separatists who’ve ordered them shut. Education is a priority for us and we can’t ignore it.”

One teacher, who heeded Akhtar’s call, was Abdul Rashid. Principal of a government higher secondary school in Nadihal, Bandipora, he went for classes on August 13 and was waiting for students to join him. Instead, a mob of about 20 men stormed in. They damaged the school and beat Rashid so much that he is in hospital. Doctors said his condition remains critical.