Muzaffarabad: Dazed and angry

"Yes, at least four," says one of them when I ask if the people buried underneath could still be alive.

One of them pulls me down to the ground and motions to the others. A hush descends on the crowd.

"You can hear them," he whispers. "Only two of them are talking now, the other two are probably too tired."

People come rushing to me from all around, each with a story to tell - a story of death, more death and yet more death - that seems to have lost its horror simply from being told so often. Or for being so real

Or dead. But that is not what even a single person among the rapidly growing crowd is willing to say.

In the ghost town of Muzaffarabad - the capital of Pakistan-administered Kashmir - one of the few things left alive, it seems, is hope.

Thousands have fled already. On the badly damaged road to this unfortunate city, hundreds of people can be seen heading out.

Men, women and children - each clasping a bundle containing whatever belongings they could salvage from their devastated homes.

Closer to Muzaffarabad, an old couple sits by the roadside. They seem utterly disinterested in what is going on around them.

The bastards want us to be a part of Pakistan," a young man spits out the words as if he had never intended them to taste his tongue

Too tired, it seems, to care any more. One look at them and it is obvious that they have nothing more to lose and little to live for.

One more? Two days ago, Dilawar Khan was an aggressive and energetic man - a leading cloth merchant whose shop was bursting at the seams with smuggled cloth.

Today, he is begging everyone with a car to lend him a hand. He wants the dead bodies of his four-year-old son and seven-year-old daughter taken to his native village in Mansehra.

He could do little to save their lives. He now seems determined to give them a decent burial. I saw him several hours later, he was still begging.

"The Kashmir Earthquake" is not a story that can be told in numbers. Twenty thousand dead? What does it mean?

Perhaps it would make sense to ask the living. But they do not seem to be interested.

"The bastards want us to be a part of Pakistan," a young man spits out the words as if he had never intended them to taste his tongue.

The army has moved in. In Pakistan, some two dozen ministers and military spokesmen are working overtime telling Pakistanis that a massive rescue effort has been launched already.

The devastation is widespread They are lucky that the road network is down. Not many can put their claim to the test.

Not that the army - having suffered serious losses itself - is not doing whatever it can.

The entire infrastructure of the city has collapsed. There is no electricity, no telephones, water and food are running out and medicines simply unavailable.

The city's main bazaar is totally devastated, and only a few partially damaged buildings are left standing.

And the aftershocks continue, not allowing a terrified population to venture into the ruins of what was home only two days ago.

It is just one of those situations it seems. Everyone is doing whatever they can. Yet whatever they do, is simply not enough.

The army's emphasis is on dropping medical and food supplies in far-flung areas - none of them reachable by road as yet.

Clearly, they feel there are still enough left standing in Muzaffarabad to fend for themselves and the survivors.

And the volunteers have rallied in a big way - ill-equipped, hungry and tired citizens who have never seen anything like this before.

There are those who are busy digging graves but they cannot seem to dig fast enough. Some 30 hours after the first tremors, bodies are now simply lying around.

The sun can still be very hot at this time of the year in this low-lying valley. Not long before putrefaction also becomes an issue.

Everyone blames the government for its poor response. But that may be more out of anger, grief and shock than anything else.

It is just one of those situations, it seems. Everyone is doing whatever they can.

Here's a piece from a google search on Muzaffarabad. It's located in Pakistani controlled Kasmir (PoK). It's operated from India by the Line of Control (LoC) which seems as if there is some travel between them.

It's a complicated article to read. One line that caught my eye:

"Asked what she liked the most in Kauta near
Muzaffarabad, Zeba said, "Freedom at all time,
day and night."

Snippet:

"Our villages have been pushed into Pakistan's lap. Once the gates of the newly built fence closes, we feel insecure because we are sandwiched between the LoC and the fence at night. Pakistanis have become closer to us." says Abdul Qayum, a resident of Silikot.

"We don't believe the bus will actually start," says Aattaullah Hando, a former principal of the Uri school.

Hando's wife Zeba has just returned from PoK. She traveled through the Attari border near Amritsar, and it took four days to reach Kauta, a village near Muzaffarbad.

Had she traveled from Uri she could have reached Kauta in less than four hours.

Whenever Uri residents return from a trip to PoK, they get a stream of visitors eager to hear stories about the 'other side.' Similarly, when she went to PoK, Zeba recalled, her relatives and strangers in the village wept on her arrival from the Indian side of Kashmir.

rediff.com spoke to many Kashmiris who have returned from PoK. They all said Muzaffarabad was truly beautiful because of its location on the confluence of the Jhelum and Neelam rivers. The power supply in PoK is uninterrupted and better than compared to the Indian side of Kashmir, they said.

According to reports, in PoK, at some places people are asked to sign an affidavit saying they believe in the ideology of Kashmir banega Pakistan (Kashmir will become Pakistan) before getting a government job.

A textile merchant of Uri said the Mirpuris of PoK are rich, because most of them migrated when the Mangla dam was constructed and took away their livelihood. They acquired skills and education. Many Mirpuris live in Britain and regularly send money to relatives in PoK.

Indian officials discount this as a superficial impression.

For many years, they say, there has been competition between India and Pakistan to show off the level of development and democracy in their respective parts of Kashmir. "Pakistan has never wanted to start the bus because they are apprehensive of the impact on PoK residents of development of our Kashmir," a senior Ministry of External Affairs official told rediff.com.

Indian officials are confident that once the bus starts, Pakistan stands to lose the psychological war. Many residents of PoK believe the Indian side of Kashmir has progressed much more than their region has.

Besides, Pakistan has allowed over 28,000 Afghan families to settle down in Muzaffarabad, and they have imported violent ideas in the name of jihad in the land of Sufis.

Over the past half century, Islam as practised in the two sides of Kashmir has also undergone enormous change.

"People don't eat Gustaba (a Kashmiri delicacy) in Muzaffarabad. They mostly eat Punjabi food. Housewives do not use utensils made of brass anymore. Also, people speak Punjabi-Urdu," Zeba told rediff.com .

Her sister, whom she met after 20 years, knew all about Indian television serials which are watched with awe in Muzaffarabad, she said. Her sister, Zeba noted, could list the characters in a popular Indian television soap opera.

Zeba took with her gifts like Kashmiri caps, almonds and shawls, and returned with textiles and fruits for her grandchildren.

Asked what she liked the most in Kauta near Muzaffarabad, Zeba said, "Freedom at all time, day and night."

Zeba's neighbour Ghulam Ahmed of Uri, who accompanied her, says life blooms 24 hours a day in PoK, while in Uri "we are within four walls after 7 pm."

Zeba complains that on the Indian side of Kashmir the army's presence and fears of terrorism restrict her movements and the social life is nothing to talk about. In PoK in the absence of terrorists people are awake and enjoy life till midnight.

She says she gossiped with her younger sister well beyond midnight.

When asked about what she found better in comparison with PoK back home, she promptly said "Education on the Indian side is better than PoK."

Ghulam Ahmed said his elder sister in Muzaffarabad once wrote to him that 'Brother, see me just once so that I can die peacefully.' On receiving that letter he saved money and went to PoK via Pakistan after struggling for a visa at the Pakistan embassy in New Delhi for five days. Travel took another four days.

"Only when the bus actually crosses over the LoC from Uri will I believe the news," he says. "My hopes have been dashed many times before."

Just a few steps away from Ahmed's shop in Uri bazaar, a signpost reads: Road to Muzaffarabad -- Nafrat ki deewar ko gira kar rakhenge. (We will bring down the walls of hate).

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