Asian Window

Suhail Akram searches for his identity in Tehelka

Growing up in conflict-ridden Kashmir, I never saw anyone being stopped from worshipping in mosques and I never felt awkward wearing my religion on my sleeve or calling myself a Muslim. But I remember the consternation on my mother’s face when she saw me with those first adolescent strands of hair on my face. She was scared that I might be caught in a ‘crack-down’ by the Army, who believes that everyone with a beard is a terrorist.

As a child, when military boots marched across the street nearby or when militants hurled a grenade, I would tremble in fear. Hiding within the four walls of my room, I would blindfold myself and with clenched fists, I would bow down and prostrate myself. Out of fright, I could not recall the Quranic verses and would instead whisper my school’s assembly prayers: “Lab pay aati hay duwa ban kay tamanna meri. Zindagi shama ki surat ho khudaya meri.” God was my only refuge at this time.

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