The Grey Camaraderie

the grey Camaraderie kashmir

Colours define life. They subtly indicate, and even reflect an emotion; colour is logic. In its vivid reality, it’s always an expression of enthusiasm and energy. Colours represent an idiosyncratic shade of meaning with a unique resemblance to appearance. Id est, every colour defines an instinctive cordiality. Nonetheless, among all the colours only grey masquerades as odd. As a matter of fact, grey as a colour is adored by sporadic folks across the world.

Very dull and lazy, a boring colour carrying a heedless eloquence. A mixture of 2 non-colours; black and white. As it is the sole thin line between a spirit and a body which is called ‘Life’, the main source of all illusions. Much like a fog which is having no colour. Yet still so enigmatic and widely nurtured. Verily, grey is unbiased.

The Grey Camaraderie Kashmir

In July 2016, turmoil wrapped the Kashmir valley in political gridlock. The entire valley was in a peculiar phase of the shutdown. All services and stores were closed. There prevailed curfews alone. During that conundrum, many people who had hailed from outer states and worked here were stuck and they couldn’t go back home. There was a strict gag on transportation and communication services. An uneased curfew for months.

Commonly called by the nickname “Ranga,” Rangeen Chaudhari, a painter from Gurdaspur Punjab was one among those many men who had decided not to leave Kashmir.

“Chilykalaan…! One can’t expect life in such harsh weather,” these were the words of “Ranga,” who had not expected that he would be stuck in Kashmir’s chilly winters. He bought Kaangri( hot-pot )! and put some coal inside it and then literally fired that up. It’s an amazing experience how it can warm the whole body in such blistering cold weather, where everything is freezing severely. Ranga said, “always, I feel no cold when it’s inside my pheran(long-rag).” That grey enthusiasm of Ranga was quite enchanting. That was a moment of “Kashmiriyat,” indeed. A situation where one would try to express excessively and in utmost innocence to consider it cordially with love.

“Rangga,” was a grey personality. He was quite modest, plus he had an excellent command over his words to coin and communicate. That Punjabi texture of colourful clothes would not suit him.

Ergo, he would dress plainly and mostly in grey itself. Not any coincidence! A man in his late 40s with no family, no partner. (workcolleges.org) He had a different view of life. Ranga would describe a family as a beautiful part, but to have one, actually scared him. He really had no interest in anything flamboyant or rich. Except for working in the valley of Kashmir, having an ordinary life, and playing cards for leisure after finishing his work.

“Mauja hi Mauja, yesterday I was walking through the meadow near the Masjid, wow! everything looked so mystical in the snow, the fog above and the white snow under my feet, it had draped inches everywhere.”

This conversation was taking place between two people, “Muzza And Rangga.” Muzza, whose actual name was Muzaffar, a Kashmiri. He was the person in camaraderie with the Rangga ever since he had visited that place.

“Pra hojaye!” said “Muzaffar.” “Let’s have a game of cards” he further added this and challenged Rangga.

For “Rangga,” playing cards was the most serious and important event every day. He would bear anything but not a defeat in the game.

However, his quotient of victories would always fall short in comparison to his Kashmiri friend “Muzaffar,” who had mastery of playing cards. That was the second-best part of Rangga’s life in a place where for him people belonged to a different religion and different ethnicity. Rangga had rented a room to live in. Muzaffar would meet him there every day. Visit him and play cards with him. This connection between the two had amazingly grown over time. In all these years, Rangga,” was for the first time staying here in the winters.

The Grey Camaraderie Kashmir

One day, when they were playing their usual evening game of Turruf, “let’s spare the deck,” said Rangga.

“Pra, I am going to blow you away today. You know, that’s how I do it every day!!” replied Muzaffar.

Rangga understood that Muzaffar had said such to make things more interesting and spicy only.

“Ha ha ha, Phir vi ley!” Exclaimed Rangga laughing in admiration.

Rangga’s room was not very finished. Upstairs in a complex, it wasn’t good at all. In a corner was a stove. To cook, next to that stove was a sack of flour. Some turmeric, spices, and a bottle of cooking oil. He didn’t have much, yet he always looked gratified.

The Grey Camaraderie Kashmir

As the game had now struck, Muzza looked over to Rangga and noticed his dull grey eyes sinking inside somewhere within him. He had spent an ample amount of time with Rangga. He could understand and reckon his feelings and expressions. “Pra, you look bothered, you are hiding something from me,” coming directly to the point, Muzza tried to inquire and asked whether things were going normal or not…

“Hahaha…” laughing in a very strange manner, ”Rangga,” didn’t utter any word. Pretending, as if his whole focus was right on the game, and his eyes screwed on the cards. “Paji, you didn’t take your meals. did you?” asked Muzaffar very affectionately while addressing his words.

As the snow had gathered outside the doors; in the balconies; on the rooftops; on the streets; inside compounds; front and back. It was vividly covered in white everywhere. Rangga had not eaten since morning, but he didn’t express his hunger. To him, it was a matter of self-esteem.

But his self-esteem got flooded away by Muzza’s common sense. Anyhow, he had figured it out and made Rangga confess that his stove was running out of fuel. Which was why he couldn’t eat. He couldn’t even go outsides. As it was insanely cold and there had been snowfall the entire day. After hearing Rangga’s confession and overseeing the matter at hand Muzaffar instantly dropped his cards, stood up, and left the place hastily without saying a word.

“I’ll be back soon, pra” was all Muzza said in a rush.

Rangga in wonder said, ”Muzza where are you going, and when will you be back? Because you know, it may get too late to return here. Anyway, leave now. we can finish the rest of the moves tomorrow, ” said Rangga in a tone of dismay. and Muzaffar left…

”Rangga,” was alone in his room. Feeling like self-pity. As he had no food. But the whole sad ambiance changed when after 15 minutes he heard a loud thud on his door.

“Muzaffar???,” ”what are you back for???” ”Rangga,” asked in shock and reluctance.

“Muzaffar,” had in his left hand a bottle of Kerosene and in his right hand, he had packed food in a foil. Within mere 15 minutes, he had arranged all of it!

“you thought I would leave you like this… I understood very well what it was you were running out of. After all, we share camaraderie and that is unbiased, It is grey. In this, our banal act of card-playing has linked us as equals. It speaks a voluble of humanity. For in grey, you find no, bias. No, black or white. No difference, no segregation, and discrimination. It is like our camaraderie which expurgates the bias, the petty and the effrontery,” said Muzaffar in a very humble tone.

Grey defines the thin line between love and hate. Friendship requires us to be grey and unbiased. I believe we all should be grey…

SHEIKH SHAHID