In the middle of 1990, a young Hizbul Mujahideen militant, Muzaffar Ahmad Mir from Kujjer, Kulgam, had “accidentally” killed two persons – a teenage girl and a boy – after a “misfire.” With almost every bit of the existing system falling under the shadow of armed groups fighting Indian rule, the victim families’ knew where the “justice” lay. Days after the killings, the victims’ families approached the Hizb top command. Looked up to as an organisation where the teachings of Islam decided the course of things, it was an acid test for the pro-Pakistan armed outfit to demonstrate the implementation of the system, the group was fighting to establish. The affiliation of Muzaffar’s father, Mir Sonaullah with Jamaat-e-Islami , the cadre-based religious group known for its proximity with Hizb, turned the 21-year-old militant’s case in an unparallel rarity. At that time, Sonaullah was the district head of Jamaat for Islamabad (Kulgam and Shopain were part of Islamabad district then). Negotiations were held. “Blood money” of rupees 1.25 lakh was offered to the victims’ families. During the course of “indirect” negotiations, on at least one occasion, the victim’s families were ready to accept the blood money. But that opportunity also failed. The families wanted blood for blood. By then, Muzaffar had appeared before the higher-ups of Hizb. He was disarmed and taken into the group’s custody. “It happened between 10 and 11 September in 1990,” says Sonaullah, while recalling the day when his son Muzaffar was brought home by the Hizb militants for the last time. “They came at around 11 in the night. Muzaffar along with his captors spent an hour with us. All of them had tea. He talked to his mother. The judgement for his execution had been announced around 20 days before. None of us had an idea that we were seeing Muzaffar alive for the last time.” At around 12:15 PM the same night, some distance away from his home, Muzaffar was executed by the Hizb, itself. The group, during the “trial” of the case, had already told Jamaat top command about their decision. Sonaullah, a retired government employee and long-serving member of Jamaat, led the funeral prayers of his son, next day. What he told the gathering of thousands after the prayers, lingered between pain and principles: “I accept Allah’s will. There should be no revenge or fighting. We have decided not to rake up this issue till the Judgement day.” Twenty five years down the line, Sonaullah has kept his promise. He is still part of the Jamaat and is one of its basic members. According to him, he has never “regretted” what happened. A father of nine – seven daughters and two sons – Sonaullah, deeply religious and reserved, fails to hide the pain of a father who shouldered the coffin of his young son. “Mea pushrov Khodayas, magar awlaad doad chu akhir rozwunui (I left everything to Allah, but still, the pain of a lost child persists,” he reiterates.
Posted on: Tue, 27 Jan 2015 02:04:27 +0000
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