The Fate of a Boy's Rubber Ball

Residents of places close to the border desperately hope that the ongoing conflict between India and Pakistan will de-escalate

- Toibah Kirmani

ON June 3, 2003, Hafeez Wani was seven years old when shells began to fall outside his home in Hajinar, a village near the Line of Control (LoC). It lies in Karnah tehsil, which is part of North Kashmir's Kupwara district. His father rushed the family into an underground bunker. These bunkers, dug just below the surface, serve as emergency shelters. People in border villages often use them when there is cross-border firing.

While Wani's mother and siblings crouched inside, his father remained at the entrance. He was looking out for his elder son who had left that morning for a school picnic.

Then the shots rang out.

"Abba's body lay in front of us, torn apart and soaked in blood. That was the last time I saw him. He died while trying to protect us," Wani says.

Later that year, India and Pakistan signed a ceasefire agreement, which was renewed in 2021. Four years later, the agreement effectively lies in shreds. The two neighbours are again on the brink of war.

On the night of May 6-7, at 12:50 am, the first round of firing began across the LoC. The explosions were heavy and constant. Hajinar did not sleep that night. The shelling continued until early dawn, till around 6 am. Wani and his family woke up to the sounds of firing. For a moment, they thought it was just the Civil Defence drill, scheduled to take place across several districts in Jammu and Kashmir, along with other states and Union Territories. But soon, they realised that this was no drill. The walls of their home began to shake. The children started crying. The family did not dare to go to the bunker. Instead, they gathered in one room, huddled close to one another and waited for the noise to stop.