BY THE WAY: Accident That Shook Valley And Peacekeepers Became Martyrs
Let gunfire be replaced by lullabies.
Let children grow into possibilities, not into graves.
Let the world know: peace is not a favour—it is Kashmir’s rightful inheritance.
Dr. Noour Ali Zehgeer
On Saturday morning, Kupwara opened its eyes to a silence so profound it felt as though the valley itself had forgotten how to breathe. The narrow by lanes of Mukam-e-Shahwali—normally alive with echoes of children running and neighbours exchanging greetings—were instead crowded with grief-stricken faces, quivering lips, and eyes swollen from sleepless nights. Around 82 kilometres from Srinagar, this small village froze in collective disbelief as residents assembled to offer their final prayers to one of their most promising sons—State Investigation Agency (SIA) Inspector Shah Asrar Ahmad, who lost his life in the accidental blast at the Nowgam Police Station.
To many, Inspector Asrar was far more than a uniformed officer. He embodied the warmth of his village and the discipline of duty in equal measure. He was the quiet companion of evening strolls, the one who shared jokes after long, tiring days. Despite the prestige of his post, he remained deeply rooted among his people—humble, soft-spoken, approachable. As mourners whispered, voice choked, “He was goodness wearing a uniform.”
Shabir Ahmad, a close associate, paused several times as he tried to speak. “It feels like this village has lost its breath with Asrar sahab,” he said, summing up the hurt that words cannot hold. Mukam-e-Shahwali did not just bury an officer—it buried a heartbeat.
Men walked in small clusters towards his home, heads bowed, often wiping away tears without shame. Mothers, whose sons once admired Asrar as an emblem of integrity, stood at their windows, hands trembling against the panes. Young boys, whose dreams had taken shape in the shadow of his achievements, stood speechless, prematurely acquainted with life’s cruelty.
But grief was not confined to Kupwara alone. Across the valley, sorrow travelled silently.
In Srinagar’s Wanbal Nowgam, the modest home of Mohammad Shafi Parray, a tailor by profession, struggled to absorb the reality that the man who spent his life stitching garments with dignity would never return. His family, surrounded by weeping neighbours and relatives, mourned a life built on honesty, a man whose aspirations revolved around providing a better future for his children. His death came not from conflict but from a chance tragedy—he was simply at the wrong place at the wrong moment.
Not far away, in HMT Srinagar, yet another household was plunged into mourning. Constable Ajaz Ahmad, a devoted officer of the Jammu and Kashmir Police, too, was claimed by the blast. His dedication was silenced not on the frontlines, but by an accident that has shaken the entire valley’s belief in the safety of its protectors.
Across these homes, one message rises above the sorrow: The sacrifices of men like Inspector Asrar dismantle every unfair label that has been placed on Kashmiri Muslims. For years, many have been erroneously portrayed as disloyal or anti-national. Yet when the nation called, Asrar answered—not with words, but with unwavering service. His life stands as a powerful rebuttal to prejudice. His death speaks louder than any slogan.
From shattered windows of Delhi to smouldering debris in Nowgam, Kashmir remains the land of deep ache. Its mountains have carried too many coffins. Its rivers, too many unsaid stories. Chinar leaves now descend like wounded whispers—once symbols of poetry, now fragments of sorrow.
One more explosion.
One more wailing mother.
One more home forever emptied.
How much longer must a valley bleed?
With every breath, I denounce this cycle of pain—these tragedies that turn brides into widows before their henna fades, steal fathers before their children learn loss, and extinguish lights that once guided entire villages.
Enough.
Let gunfire be replaced by lullabies.
Let children grow into possibilities, not into graves.
Let the world know: peace is not a favour—it is Kashmir’s rightful inheritance.
Return it. Restore it.
Not in our name.
Not in Inspector Asrar’s name.
Not in the name of any Kashmiri who lived with dignity and fell in service to it.
(STRAIGHT TALK COMMUNICATIONS EXCLUSIVE )
