My Closest Encounter with Death

"Who, me afraid of death?" "No way!" This is what human beings
usually answer when questioned about their fear of death. I do not
know how animals would react to a same question but animals have been seen risking their lives for their masters, no comments
here.

I feel that the answer of not being afraid of death comes from
inexperience. It’s experience that makes us understand value of
things and realize their potential. Most of us just hear or read
about "Death" and have never seen it close to us (May it stay away
from all of us as long as Allah wishes). This could be a reason
why we say, "We are not afraid of death."

I have had many close encounters with death. I come from Srinagar - a city under siege, which is now in its 12th year of seeing gunfights and deaths. It’s in Kashmir, a place that ironically boasts of Saichen Glacier the highest battlefield on earth. Almost every body from Kashmir can talk about close encounters not just an encounter with death, which can make you cry and even laugh some times, may be!

As I just said that I have had many close encounters with death. I
wasn’t alone when I encountered these incidents but along with
many others.

With my schoolfellows: when we used to tuck ourselves beneath the school chairs and tables, which was a frequent happening, as this was the only way to save ourselves from the gunfights taking place outside the school. And since my school was situated in the most vital point of the city, Sheikh Bagh, Lal Chowk; blasts and cross firings occurred too frequently as they would no doubt find good coverage in the media!

With strangers: Hiding behind anything I could find in a shop,
that I would enter on account of cross firing or a grenade
blast,on the street: I would be walking on my way back to home.
Tucking as low as I could along with other passengers in a bus
which would unluckily be caught in a cross fire, and shouting as
loud as was possible: that’s what all the passengers would do so
would I do, as I was too young to understand the seriousness of
the situation. I wonder how the driver of the vehicle would keep
his calm and save us from the place.

With family: lying flat on the stomach, in my home, so as to save
myself from any stray bullet, which could come all the way from
the gun nozzle, enter the window and hit me or any one of my
family. Incidents were stray bullets hit people in their homes did
happen.

This bullet is just too dreadful: it once went thru a window and
hit and killed a 9-month-old baby. Pierced a young man many times, who was taken for dead and thrown into a truck full of dead
bodies, but he was still alive and survived after he was spotted
breathing by a policeman and was treated for his bullet wounds.
Once a bullet hit a woman and it was easily removed. Doctor’s said
that it was caught in the fat. Seems the lady loved eating too
much and the fat, which could medically kill her, saved her!

The same bullet is shot as an honor for martyrs and the same
bullet makes them martyrs. Too paradoxical!

Now I should be telling you about my closest encounter with death,
which happened to me all alone, and where my decision would mean my death or life. It happened about two years back. I was on a power-driven two-wheeler and was riding towards my home, cheerful just buzzing my way with out the slightest hint that I would soon be extremely close to to death. I was enjoying the calm gentle wind blowing my hair. I looked around and to my surprise saw all shuttersof the bazaar closed that I presumed must be because of one of the common hartals (Strike Call against some incident) in that area. As I was riding, I saw across the road an Indian Armed Forces man near his bunker, aiming his Automatic Self Loading Rifle at someone. I could not see whom but could have been a fleeing militant. And then he shot a fire from his SLR: I stopped there and then. The sound and smoke of the fire lingered in the still air, the smoke went up slowly without any hurry. I was frozen and cold with fear, shivering and my mind was not ready to
tell me what to do next?

At this moment some thoughts raced thru my mind: I was not worried because of the fear of loosing my life but because of the fear what my family, my loved ones would do if I were dead. They would not be able to bear my separation: they would be half lifeless.

The image of my parents flashed in front of me - crying because of
my loss.

No, I did not want to die, not for myself, but for my loved ones -
my only assets.

When death stares you in the face many things that were important till then. The attire, the boots, and the shades you are putting on turn into matters of no concern at all. You realize at that moment that you had so far wasted a large part of your life by being concerned about trivial matters?

Now that I had a reason to live: my loved ones. I had to decide
what I should be doing next? Should I move on or just stop there
or leave my bike and run. Whatever I would do would decide my fate - my life or my death?

I decided, with a feeling that this decision would end my life, to
move on. I started moving slowly, very slowly thinking that I
would be taken as a fleeing militant by the Army Man and would be
shot in the back. I was waiting for my back to be struck with a
bullet. A drop of sweat went down my back and for a moment the
sensation was as though a bullet struck me.

The few meters, which I was moving was taking ages: nothing
happened and when I presumed that I was out of range of the
bullet, I zoomed towards my home not even thinking what could have happened to me. I moved fast, maybe at a place or two the traffic police tried to stop me, I do not remember? But I do remember that the next place I stopped was my home.

Happy to be alive I stared at a mirror and realized the worth of
life?

And here I am telling you about my closest encounter with death
and yeah I fear death!