SYED LIYAQAT
I live in the Line of Control (LoC) in North Kashmir. My voice is one of many that resides in the shadows of conflict. The relentless shelling culminates in the destruction of not only my life’s work, which endured cross border shelling, but the tenth of the physical houses which I came close to building.
At the moment, a ceasefire exists. Although there is a temporary pause on combat, I do not find comfort in any of this. The harsh reality is, once more, our so-called ceasefire, which on rudimentary level does revital afford us some basic comforts, does absolutely nothing on the level of spirit; reserved utterance of mighty bureaucracies.
Nothing has been rebuild, all my hopes have heavily relied on semblance of relief while pay I initially received left me crippling under the crushing burden of grief where relief would essentially mean unmitigated suffering. I greatly doubt this bleak motto permitting utterly delusional paranoia serve on every cypher.
The globe seems to pay attention to ceasefire agreements, but no one cares to hear from those living adjacent to the line on how secure we feel. For us, peace only comes with accountability and external protection in the context of civilian ceasefires signed in rooms far away from Karnah mountains or Uri fields. Where is the society which guarantees that we are not figures of a statistical data dump, but real people who need to live free from the constant fear for their lives, sheltered in dignity, and afforded respect?
