The Story of My Family

 

The Story of My Family

Part One: From a Family Heaven to a Family Battlefield

My parents were probably married in 1984. Before I was born, they had a daughter. Sadly, she was stillborn.

Some time later, I was born. After me came my younger brother and another sister.

In 1992, I was sent to Syed Qazim Islamia Middle School. I was still a child, but those years became some of the most important years of my life.

Our Joint Family

In 1992, we lived in a joint family. It included my parents, my two siblings, my two uncles, my grandparents and an adopted paternal aunt.

One of my uncles was married and had children. The other was divorced and lived a carefree life.

We owned about 75 kanals of land. We had sheep, bulls, cows and calves. We also had poplar, almond and acacia trees. By the standards of our village, our family possessed property worth lakhs of rupees.

In my childhood, the family seemed like heaven.

But the heaven did not last.

The Return of My Eldest Uncle

My eldest uncle was a resident son-in-law. He lived with his wife at his in-laws' home.

When he heard that my father was getting married, he brought his wife and children back and started living with his parents (my grandparents). Reportedly, his parents (my grandparents) had not invited him to return.

Unfortunately, his wife was sharp-tongued and difficult to deal with. Soon, the peace of our home began to disappear.

The women of the family started fighting over household work. Cooking, sweeping and looking after the cattle became reasons for daily arguments.

My grandmother, her adopted daughter and her two daughters-in-law often fought with one another.

My grandfather was a gentleman. He usually stayed out of these quarrels.

My father and my eldest uncle often took different sides.

My divorced uncle was different. He lived like a carefree man. He did not worry much about the house or his future. Our home was almost like a rent-free hostel for him. He could eat, drink and sleep there without taking much responsibility.

Yet, strangely, he was kinder to me than my own parents. At least, that is how it seemed to me as a child.

When a Mother Walked Away

The situation became so difficult that my mother left my father and our home.

She went to live with her aunt in Lasjan, Srinagar. She wanted my father to separate from the joint family and live with her and their three children.

She stayed there for about two months.

My father searched for her everywhere. He could not find her.

No relative came forward to help him.

Those were different times. There was no Facebook, Instagram or YouTube. Communication was extremely limited. So, finding my mother was not as easy as it is today in the age of social media. 

Our locality had around 150 homes. Only a few had black-and-white televisions or landline telephones. The entire locality depended on a single electric transformer near our Eidgah.

My father had little money. Yet he kept searching for his wife.

Today, my siblings and I understand how difficult those days must have been for him. (Our father is not a worldly-wise man.)

School Fees and Hardship

My father could barely afford my school fees.

The monthly fee was only 80 rupees, but even that was difficult for us.

I often carried applications to school requesting that my fee be remitted.

Eventually, my mother was found. She returned home.

But the family had changed forever.

The Joint Family Breaks Apart

The joint family was divided into three families.

There was my father's family.

There was my eldest uncle's family.

And there was my grandparents' family.

My grandparents lived with my divorced uncle and their adopted daughter.

We had a two-storey house, but the upper floor was being used to store grass for the cattle.

Practically, we had only four usable rooms.

My eldest uncle's family got one room.

My parents got one room.

My grandparents got two rooms.

Our Room

The room where we lived was terrible.

It had two portions.

In one portion, we sat, ate and slept.

In the other, there was a heater, a hen with her chicks in a basket and a calf covered with a quilt.

The ceiling was black with smoke.

The room often stank.

Perhaps that was one important reason why our relatives disliked visiting our home.

There was also a common tin shed in the compound where the joint family used to cook its meals. 

After the division, two more sheds were built, one by my family and the other by my uncle’s family. Our shed was made of mud and tin. It had a mud hearth in one part and a well in another. We used the water from that well throughout the year. However, in winter, the well's icy-cold water was unbearable. 

Life in the Village

Life in our village was very different in those days.

In 1993, the entire mohalla had a common latrine for men. It was close to our house.

Women usually went outside the mohalla to relieve themselves.

The people of our village then lived with very little privacy and almost no modern facilities.

Yet, life continued.

A Mother's Three Wishes

My mother had three major wishes in life.

Her first wish was marriage like all women in the world.

Her second was to have a separate household with her husband and children.

Her third was to see her husband work hard, build a new house and educate their children.

She believed that one day her children would grow up, earn money and allow her to live like a queen.

She became the head of our new family.

My father was more like her assistant. He either lacked the strength and wisdom to lead the family or was simply helpless, like many husbands in difficult circumstances.

The Quarrels Continue

Although we were now separate families, we still lived in the same house and compound.

The quarrels therefore continued.

Almost no relative wanted to visit us.

Nobody wanted to get involved in our family disputes.

They considered us poor, troublesome and pathetic. They probably felt that their own dignity would suffer if they interfered in our affairs.

The relatives of my eldest uncle were even worse towards us.

They attacked my father several times at different places.

A Heaven Turns into Hell

By 1995, I was in Class 4.

The family that had once seemed like heaven had become almost a hell.

There was a quarrel in our courtyard almost every day.

Neighbours would come and watch the drama.

It was free entertainment for them.

The men of our house were helpless.

The women were trapped in endless conflicts.

The children were clueless.

We, the children were growing up in an atmosphere that no child should have to experience.

But even then, something inside me had already begun to change.

I did not know it at the time, but the struggles of those years would eventually shape the person I was to become.

Part Two: The Struggle to Rebuild

Growing Up in Chaos

My siblings, my cousins and I were growing up in an unfavourable environment.

Meanwhile, the wealth of our family slowly disappeared.

The sheep, cattle, trees and other valuable possessions began to vanish.

Sometimes my eldest uncle sold things secretly. Sometimes my parents did the same. But most of the selling was done by my grandparents under the influence of their adopted daughter.

She had enormous control over them.

Eventually, she managed to inherit almost all of my grandmother's land, around 25 kanals.

The Decline of the Family

My grandparents sold most of the trees.

They used the money to renovate the second floor of our house.

The house now had more rooms.

My eldest uncle had two rooms.

Four rooms were shared by my younger uncle, my grandparents and the adopted aunt.

The adopted aunt was married also. Her husband was a resident son-in-law.

She continued selling land to meet her daily needs and for entertainment. 

My younger uncle married a non-kashmiri woman. 

I disliked many of these developments.

Our family's reputation in the village declined sharply.

Hardly any relative visited us.

When someone did visit, I often suspected that there was some personal interest behind it. I was never wrong. 

I Had a Different Mission

I was watching everything.

But I did not take it to heart.

My mission was different.

I wanted to study.

I wanted to gain knowledge.

While others were fighting over land and property, I was trying to build myself.

The Fight Over Land

My eldest uncle's family wanted to take the land belonging to my younger uncle.

My younger uncle had no children for several years after his marriage.

I considered taking his land an injustice.

I did not allow it.

I believed God would not approve of such injustice.

More Children, More Responsibility

My parents continued to have children.

One more son was born in 1995.

One more  daughter was born in 1998.

There was little planning for the future.

We were sent to a government school because my parents could not afford private-school fees.

Even a fee of around 300 rupees a month was difficult for them.

Yet the family continued to grow.

We had little money, but we had many mouths to feed. 

My Father and the Struggle for Survival

Yesterday a big landlord's son, my father was  now a labourer.

He was not a hard worker.

He rarely worked more than ten days a month.

He never chased luxury.

His main goal was simply to keep the family alive, not happy. 

And, in his own way, he succeeded.

My mother dreamed of a better life.

My father concentrated on survival.

I slowly realised that if our family was ever going to rise, I would have to play a major role.

Studying Against the Odds

My siblings struggled with their studies.

Some of them failed Class 10 several times.

I, fortunately, was different.

I continued studying.

My youngest brother was guided and taught by me personally.

He studied well, but later struggled to find a job worthy of his degrees and the money spent on his education. It cost me about ₹50,000 to complete my entire education, whereas a single semester at NIT Srinagar cost him ₹50,000. At the beginning of his B.Tech., I often had to borrow money from my friends to pay his semester fee.

I had high hopes for him.

Life, however, does not always follow our plans.

The Noise Around Me

My eldest uncle was not treated well by his family and in-laws.

Eventually, he lost his mental stability.

He wandered around during the day.

At night, he often shouted and used foul language.

In the beginning, his noise made it difficult for me to study.

Later, I became used to it.

Perhaps hardship teaches a person to concentrate even when the world around him is noisy.

The Funeral of My Grandmother

In 2005, we lost our grandmother.

I led her funeral prayer.

For someone of my age, it was unusual in those days.

The act earned me some respect in the village.

At that time, I was studying at a darasgah.

I was also pursuing higher studies rather than studying English literature at college.

The Fight That Changed Everything

Soon after my grandmother's death, another major conflict began.

My cousin, who was about my age, tried to take the land belonging to my younger uncle.

I intervened.

A major quarrel broke out.

This was no ordinary argument.

Axes and clubs were used.

I was beaten.

I also fought back.

Several others were injured as well.

For the first time in my life, I saw our family win a family dispute.

Two neighbours stood beside us and helped us.

The Plan to Throw Us Out

The situation became even more serious.

Many villagers, my eldest uncle and the family of the adopted aunt wanted to drive us out of the house.

But God had other plans.

I was still young, but I went before the village committee.

I told its members to ask my eldest uncle's family to leave.

I promised to buy their share of the house and pay them within a month.

The head of the committee wrote my words down.

They were certain I would fail.

They believed we would be unable to pay.

They were preparing to punish us and throw us out.

They were wrong.

The Turning Point

That was the turning point in the history of my family.

Had they succeeded, I might have lost my chance of higher education.

My family could have been reduced to extreme poverty forever.

We had neither enough money nor right land to build another house.

My father was still a labourer.

I had no powerful person behind me.

I only had determination and the help of God. 

I Sold Land to Save the House

To everyone's surprise, I managed to sell two kanals of land.

With that money, I bought my eldest uncle's share of the house.

For the first time in years, there was some relief.

Later, I laid the foundation of a new house in front of the old one.

I dreamed of moving my family there.

I imagined a peaceful life.

But once again, life had other plans.

Another Battle

The family of our adopted aunt rebelled.

They demanded their share of the courtyard because they also wanted to build a house.

I strongly opposed their demand.

They wanted their share from the western side of the courtyard.

I gave them land on the eastern side instead.

I deliberately gave them more than their actual share.

My aim was simple.

I wanted to save the better portion for my family and my younger uncle's family.

I also paid the required amount and bought the adopted aunt's share of the old house.

Now my father owned half of the house.

From One Room to a Home

I remembered the room we had lived in back in 1992.

It had been dark, dirty and suffocating.

Now I began transforming the old house.

I had it cemented and painted.

I installed proper electrical fittings.

I covered the courtyard with iron and tin.

The house slowly changed.

My father now owned half of the house his father had built.

The number of families living there had also decreased.

For the first time, life seemed to be truly getting better.

A New Chapter

Meanwhile, I completed my Master's degree.

I told my father to stop working as a labourer.

I was now earning.

I took responsibility for the entire family.

Our standard of living slowly improved.

We got cable television.

We got mobile phones.

We had a decorated kitchen, wardrobes, a refrigerator, a washing machine and many other things that our neighbours had.

For a family that had once lived in a single stinking room, these were major achievements.

I also paid most of the expenses for the marriage of one of my sisters.

We sold some trees to meet the expenses.

But I tried not to sell our land.

The Government Job That Never Came

I wanted a government job.

I cleared difficult examinations such as NET and SET.

But I could not secure a government position.

I accepted it as God's will. 

I had already learned that life does not always reward us according to our plans.

I expected my youngest brother to become another pillar of the family.

I hoped he would complete engineering, find a good job and help me build a better future for all our family.

But he chose a different path.

He completed engineering and started teaching at small private schools to support himself.

Later, he found a better job and earned around ₹30,000 a month.

But he eventually left it to pursue a PhD.

I did not interfere.

I allowed him to follow his own path.

The New House

In 2024, I finally began building a new house.

The estimated cost was around ₹25 lakh.

My youngest brother contributed about 20 per cent.

Another brother contributed around 10 per cent.

My parents contributed nothing.

The house still needs several lakh rupees to be completed.

Sometimes I look at the situation and wonder where the remaining money will come from.

My siblings have their own dreams.

My parents have their own needs.

They may even sell land to fulfil their desires.

But I have learned one thing very well.

God is the greatest planner.

From Poverty to Dignity

After decades of struggle, our relatives began visiting us again.

Some now want to remain in contact.

I speak to them politely.

I sweet-talk them when necessary.

But I rarely visit them.

My siblings do.

Perhaps they do not remember the past as clearly as I do.

I do.

Memory matters.

People who forget the struggles that built them can easily repeat the mistakes that destroyed their families.

Thirty Years of Struggle

The journey from one stinking room to a new house was not easy.

I had to buy the shares of two other families.

I renovated the old house.

I protected what remained of our land.

I supported my family.

I completed my education.

I built my public life.

It took almost 30 years.

At home, I was a struggler.

Outside, I became a different person.

I did not allow my painful family life to destroy my studies or my public life.

I fought my battles at home and still managed to stand tall in society.

My Story Is Not Over

I was a soldier.

I fought like hell during the day.

Then I slept like a baby at night.

I was tough with my words.

Tough with my actions.

Soft at heart.

Swift in mind.

I was Sahil Sharifdin Bhat.

But my battles are not over.

There is still much to do.

I still have a long way to go.

If my parents and siblings support me, I can walk faster towards a happy and dignified life.

If they behave like the relatives and like my uncles and aunts who once stood against us, I will continue alone.

I have already learned how to walk alone.

And those who walk alone often walk fastest. 

Hard times create strong men, strong men create good times, good times create weak men, and weak men create hard times. —G. Michael Hopf