EVER since I left the Valley six years ago, Jamaal never missed an occasion to wish me on any festival, including the Republic and Independence days. In turn, I always wished him on every Eid. Apart from ritual pleasantries, he would often update me on the health of apple trees and roses in the Army compound and the state of horticulture and agriculture in the villages nearby. It seemed as if festivals were just an excuse for us to talk endlessly about plants and trees. Even though the area has always been violence prone, neither did he complain nor showed any interest in talking about such matters.Jamaal was employed as an ad hoc gardener by the Army many years ago, and he became so devoted to his profession, that he thought of nothing else. He distinguished each plant for its colour and size of flowers and taste of its fruits and many other details. I once asked him to plant some tulips, he quipped philosophically: ‘Tulip thode din rehte hain European gulab behtar hai’ (Tulip does not last long, it is better to plant European rose), perhaps he was articulating his view about human relations.A couple of years back, he called me and said: ‘Sir, kul 11 minutes mein sab kuch khatam ho gaya’ (Sir, it was all over in just 11 minutes). Expecting the worst, my heart sank and I enquired what had happened. Almost sobbing, he said: ‘Ole gire aur sab khatam, koi seb nahi, koi gulab nahi bacha’ (hailstorm destroyed the apple and roses). I consoled him as much as I could, but he was angry with God and whispered: ‘Kya fayda dua ka?’ Unable to comfort him, I felt helpless.A few months back, when situation was volatile in Handwara in North Kashmir, I asked Jamaal what he thought was the cause. His reply was cryptic: ‘Kya bataye, yahan sab jhooth bolte hain, bachhon ki padhai zaaya ho rahi hai (What can one say, everyone is a liar, children’s education is suffering). He quickly changed the topic to apples and walnut trees. He seemed upbeat about the prospects of a good crop, although it was too early to forecast the yield. He simply was not interested in discussing violence and unrest. Last time I spoke to him on Eid, in the first week of July, he sounded cheerful and promised me a consignment of apples in September. Since then, the Valley has been on the boil, I have tried to call him many times without success. Between claims and counter-claims over disturbances and violence, my Jamaal is lost somewhere. I don’t even want to talk about Independence Day, Janamashtmi and Eid-ul-Zuha, that have gone by, but my friend, tell me about the apples and roses.