“Trilogy of Life” by a Hazara child in Behsood

When the camel bells jingle on the hillsides

(1) Life is beautiful

It is spring. sky is bluer than any other time. Everywhere is green and life is beautiful. Birds sing on the trees. Water flows in the streams. Smile is seen on faces. Hope is seen in the eyes. And when it rains, the drops of rain help mushrooms erupt easily on the mountains and we go and collect them.

Dad goes to the farm. Mom cooks in the house I go to school and our sheep go to the pastures. Father brings home enough bread when he comes home at night. Mom tells good stories. Life is good, we are all happy.

(2) When camel bells jingled on the hillsides

One day late in the afternoon, bells jingled on the hillsides. Mom said it is the sound of cow bells, but dad was worried, in his eyes we noticed fear and his color changed. He knew they were not cow bells that jingled on the hillside but they were camel bells. For me it did not matter whether cow or camel bells, but it jingled on the hillsides. Dad opened an old book and showed me some pages. Those were photos of old men and writings that I did not understand. Then he looked at the bread and said to us; ‘we may not have enough of it anymore, when they are here’.

Mom was worried. She looked at dad’s wounded hands and then she cried calmly. Dad's hands were always wounded as he worked very hard on the farm. Dad was worried but I did not understand why. The camel bells jingled louder and louder like they got nearer to the village. Dad took a big log and ran out of the house. His only sentence was heard; ‘Kochis again destroy my lands.’ But I still did not understand what he meant. Mom shut the door and cried calmly behind it. There was a tender storm in the sky. A big bomb was heard soon. Dad’s scream was heard then. And then we did not see him anymore. It was his last scream.

(3) After the camel bells jingled on the hillsides

I and mom came out of home. In one part, there was dad’s’ body in blood, it was not moving, he was dead. On the other part, smoke was high in the sky, our mosque and my school was burning in the fire. On the hillsides, black tents were seen with white flags on them flickering in the air as sign of victory ‘They are the Kochis' tents mom said .

And from the tents smoke came in the sky, which smelt of meat of our lambs and kids. Far away from the village, strange people played Dol (drum) louder and louder and mom said they were Kochis who celebrate their victory with an Attan dance.

I wanted to ask my dad what all this meant, I did not understand it, but he was killed by Kochis as my mom said.

Thereafter every night mom chants me Kochi lullabies and I dream monsters every other night and mom says it is a nightmare.