Qaisar Mirza was a delightful person and a dedicated broadcast/print journalist who reported for Voice of America and Associated Press on Kashmir during its most turbulent years during the 1990s. His death in a road accident in Delhi this day in 2002 was a great shock.

I vividly recall two memorable journeys I have had in his company. One was our road and train travel to Delhi in the mid-1990s, accompanied by Jeelani Qadri and late Jan Muhammad Koul. 

From Srinagar, we hired a taxi to Jammu, where we were booked in a 2-tier sleeper coach of the Jhelum Express. But fate had other plans. By the time we reached Jammu Tawi Railway Station, the train had already departed.

Stranded, we debated our options. Young Fayaz Qadri, who had driven us in his Fiat to the railway station, boldly offered to chase the train and catch it at the next station. He pressed the accelerator, driving at 100-120 km/h on the highway. My God, what madness it was! We were flying down the road as if in a James Hadley Chase thriller. Yet, when we reached Bari Brahmana, the Jhelum Express had already steamed away.

What followed was a relentless, nerve-wracking pursuit. At every station, the train had just left. The weak-hearted among us pleaded with Fayaz to slow down, reminding him that life was more precious than catching a train. But he remained determined, more intent on the chase than any of us.

Finally, after 111 exhausting kilometres, we reached Pathankot. To our immense relief, the train was still waiting at the platform. We boarded our reserved coach, drained but triumphant. The ticket examiner, stunned to see us, asked in disbelief, “How have you come here?” His shock was greater than ours, for he was busy trading our seats with passengers without reservation.

We had a jolly good time in Delhi – shuttling between Kashmir House at 5, Prithvi Raj Road, Connaught Place, Palika Bazaar, and the cinema halls. I still remember watching Pooja Bhatt’s debut film Daddy at the Regal. The days were filled with laughter and light-hearted banter, thanks to Qaisar Mirza, whose anecdotes and jokes added spice to our journey and made our stay in Delhi truly memorable.

Earlier, we had journeyed together on a trip to Ladakh in the summer of 1989. At the time, I was serving as Assistant Director Information and had proposed to my director that we take a press party to Ladakh to report on the development scenario in the arid desert province. 

By then, Kashmir was beginning to slip into turmoil, with sporadic firing and bomb blasts unsettling daily life. Local journalists, understandably, showed little enthusiasm for a trip to Ladakh when the valley itself was drawing intense media attention. Yet, Qaisar Mirza and Jeelani Qadri accepted the call, joined by my colleague Mohammad Yasin Khan.

A jeep from the State Motor Garage was arranged for our travel. On the appointed day, we planned to pick up Qaisar at Khanyar Chowk. As we reached the spot, however, there was no sign of him. We parked the jeep at the roadside and waited, uncertain of his whereabouts. There were no mobile phones then to check if he had even left his home in Zaina Kadal. 

The atmosphere around us was tense and uneasy: groups of people stood outside shops, their faces far from relaxed. Suddenly, I realized the blunder we had committed by parking a government vehicle in such a setting. 

At that time, government property was an easy target for arson, and our jeep stood out conspicuously. Fear gripped us. Driving away without Qaisar was difficult, yet staying put felt dangerous. With anxious hearts, we waited what seemed like an eternity until he finally appeared, blissfully unaware of the tension we had endured. 

When I told him how nervous his delay had made us, he simply laughed it off in his trademark style.

The journey to Leh, with a night halt at the Kargil Dak Bungalow, was unforgettable. I had visited Ladakh earlier in 1986-87 during my posting at Leh and again while covering the Chief Minister’s visit, but this trip was different. 

Travelling through the Moonland in the company of Qaisar Mirza, Jeelani Qadri, and Mohammad Yasin was a delight. The trip was filled with stories, jokes, and anecdotes that kept our spirits high. Qaisar carried his still camera and captured the scenic contours of the Srinagar-Leh Highway, clicking memorable shots of us at Fotula, the highest point on the highway at 13,478 feet.

In Leh, we met people, explored the town, and visited the upcoming Shanti Stupa. One highlight was interviewing its Japanese priest, Bikshu Gyomyo Nakamura. 

The blend of camaraderie, adventure, and discovery made that Ladakh journey one of the most cherished experiences of my career.