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The Burning Orchard THE strife-torn land of Kashmir has been the subject of many books of fiction and non-fiction. Undoubtedly, the place has always been a strong point of attraction, less now for the visitors and tourists, and more for the power-hungry politicians. It does not need to be reiterated that the peace of the serene valley is infested with lingering suspicions and its once sweet silence has now become eerie.
Wali’s family is a representative one. Kashmir has seen many like him on the verge of this immense dilemma. The book depicts the trauma of people like Wali, Sakina, Meher, who struggle to lead a normal life. It is a powerful and an engrossing narrative of the agony of leaving behind a secure past and stepping into an uncertain future—an emotional journey through anguish, resentment, doubt, devotion and perseverance. The book offers a touching glimpse of the forlorn feelings of a man who is forced to leave behind his much-loved land. It is a virtual reinforcement of the narrative of the Partition `85 all he would now be left with were the "countless memories’, which were no different from the withered and scattered leaves of the Chinars towards the conclusion of the autumn, when the winds would blow them around uncontrollably before they would be lost forever `85 ." The conclusion to the dilemma is equally agonising: "An anonymous life was the only indemnity towards safety". The Burning Orchard
also tries to lift the veil of false security from the eyes of those
whose houses have not yet been engulfed by the fire of terrorism. It
is a crime to watch the deplorable acts without protesting and to be a
mute witness to the atrocities being committed against humanity,
without realising that one day it could be your house burning.
"It could be your tears flowing." A note of hope, however,
is struck with the faint light of the dawn as Wali ruminates and
wishes that the world should not come to an end before many
generations have seen the beauty of the sunrise and "ripples in
the undulating blue waters `85 ." Within every race and religion,
there are the likes of Abdul with the assurance of safety and the
likes of Shakeel who create deep chasms and push the world into a
"murky void". The choice certainly is ours. An extremely
readable narrative that resonates with relevance.
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Such is the site on
which the drama of the life of Wali’s family unfolds in Anita
Krishan’s new novel, The Burning Orchard. The place seems as
much the protagonist as the moderate Wali who strives to keep his once
happy family away from the tumult. Fear, dread and distrust have
stained the exquisite beauty of his homeland and scarred its soul. The
dark and long shadows of terrorism invaded his tranquil home when
Shakeel, once employed as his domestic help, came to visit him.
Hapless and all too credulous, Wali was caught unaware when he
realised that the men who accompanied Shakeel carried guns with them.
Herein comes the conflict and the dilemma of Wali who believes in the
religion of humanity. His choice is either to submit to the demands of
the killers or to leave furtively and to take his family away from the
vile shadow of evil. There was no promise of return, ever. It meant
the loss of his life’s labour, his orchard, his house and his
business.