Kashmir's Lost Generation

As Harzatbal's evening call for prayer resounds over the Dall, Ajaz walks through one of Srinagar's many martyrs' graveyards.

The young man in worn-out jeans and a body hugging tee swaggers past unkempt tombstones counting friends and family that are buried there - there were 21 of them. He tells me how he can still see the smiling face of Mushtaq, who was his senior at school, who would have been 27 this January. He tells me about another friend, Javed, who was his parents'...
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As Harzatbal's evening call for prayer resounds over the Dall, Ajaz walks through one of Srinagar's many martyrs' graveyards.

The young man in worn-out jeans and a body hugging tee swaggers past unkempt tombstones counting friends and family that are buried there - there were 21 of them. He tells me how he can still see the smiling face of Mushtaq, who was his senior at school, who would have been 27 this January. He tells me about another friend, Javed, who was his parents' only son. The day he died, he was wearing Ajaz's clothes. Javed had come to our house in the morning through the and changed there. Javed was 23, and Ajaz still remembers even six hours after his death, when they took him for burial, blood still oozed out of his bullet wounds. Every epitaph standing on a grave tells a story - a tragic story of a generation.
Ajaz lingers for a bit, starring-glassed eyed into a distance, till he eventually snaps out out of it.

"Enough of this tragedy, let's go have some fun."

Ajaz is part of Kashmir's "lost generation", an entire generation of youth who have growing up with in Kashmir ravaged in 20 years of turmoil. They are a generation numb with no real ambitions or motivations, just pre-occupied with a struggle for survival. Ajaz spends his days at 8 Ball, a smoky snooker den at Lal Chowk, in the city center. The parlour is inhabited by 15 to 20 year olds, innocent and trying hard not to be. Some were tougher than others, but there was a limit to how much trouble they can find at 8 Ball. This is their home turf, a place they escape the tear-gas and rubber bullets of the old city - to gamble and smoke all too many cigarettes. Some of the older boys like Ajaz sometimes walk to the football ground nearby showing off their hair, their sunglasses, their cigarettes, their tattoos and sometimes even their girls.
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