Opinion | Travelogue; A story of miseries in countryside.

Recently visited a relative living in a far flung area of Rajwar Handwara . I had always a craze to visit the place and experience what I thought simple and peaceful life of people there. Boarded a vechile from Villagam which took about 01 hour to get required passengers and after it took 02 more hours to reach the destination where from it was a walk of about 02 kms. The sun was disappearing behind the mountains and the view was mesemrising .Even being amid the jungle and uphill walk It was soothing with fresh breeze and i really enjoyed it . I clicked some pictures and reached my destination.

 As I reached in there it was about to get dark. Entering the house, they (host relatives) were really happy to see me after a long time. I too was feeling good that I am here only after childhood. There was not much change in the village ,the same traditional wooden house with a few new concrete ones, those simple people, no house walls , peaceful and silent paths, just one or two shops … only a new road laid and magdamised since then with thin traffic plying.

All the family members had just completed their work in fields (cutting, gathering grass etc) as it is harvest season ( harud) the most busy month for people especially villagers to get preparations done for upcoming chilly winter . The lady( wife of my mother’s cousin) in her 30s steeped in the kitchen, was cherished to see me after long time ,we exchanging salam Dua… But I was left deeply disappointed looking at her face . She managed a fake smile and maybe was exited with my arrival at their home. The redness, exausted and sweated face after hard work all the day at her maize fied ( cutting maize and peeling maize). However her face was telling it all. She even now has no relief to sit down but to make arrangements for the guest (me). She managed to make salt tea(noon chai) in hurry and bake maize for me and other family members only to start cook dinner without taking break for a while. All this on traditional chulla (Danbur) . The son of her , who is hardly 14 or 15 had also just arrived home from work, he too has burnt his dreams in the grass and fodder just like many other neighbouring kids. Their life rounding in meeting their ends, education is the last go. The boy was previously sent our home for studies but could not adjust with us . I just reminded him the very ,he felt offended! Only after I realised that he left studies to support the family that otherwise would collapse. The family had an elderly couple ( grandparents) to take care of. The father of the boy could not single handedly do all. Impossible! I thought.