BASHARAAT MASOOD
Braving the winter chill and morning fog, septuagenarian Hajra walks into SK Park in the city, where she joins scores of others already there. They all have a common purpose. News of their loved ones they say they lost in custody of security forces.
Hajra, 72, of Ongam village in Bandipore leaves home every morning in search of her son. She says her son Bashir Ahmad Sofi disappeared after he was picked up by the army from her village nine years ago.
Sofi has not been traced, but his family hasn’t lost hope. Every knock at their door still brings a smile on Hajra’s wrinkled face, expecting her son to stand at the doorway.
“He will return,” says Hajra. Her face doing the impossible, radiating hope and despair at the same time. “My son is alive. I am sure. He will return,” she says and breaks down.
Holding a portrait in her hands, she counts, “one, two, three, four”. She has lost, besides Sofi, three of her other young sons in the 15-year-long turmoil in Kashmir, leaving her with the fifth, Fayaz Ahamd Sofi, the sole breadwinner of the family till he lost his eyesight. Hajra says, “My three sons were killed by security forces and the fourth disappeared. The son remaining with me lost his eyesight.”
She narrates her search for her missing son.
“My son was picked up by the 14 RR from his bakery on Eid,” she says, as tears roll down her cheeks. “We searched for him everywhere, from prisons to graveyards. Army denies his arrest,” says Hajra.
Has she not gone to court to seek justice? “No,” she replies. “We did not have money. We went to court but there we were asked to pay Rs 10,000. Where would I have got it from? In the morning, when I left for Srinagar, my pocket was empty and my neighbours gave me some money”.
After Fayaz had to leave his job, carpet weaving, there is no earning member in the family of seven; Hajra, her 75-year-old husband, Fayaz and four grandchildren. For some time the family was without any shelter. “Our house was burnt by the army,” she alleges. “Villagers helped us build a shed, where we live today”.
Government help and compensation have eluded them. “Neither have we got any compensation from the government nor were we given any job under SRO 43 (a special job reservation for victims of violence in the state),” says Hajra.
The miseries and the misfortunes seem to have strengthened the resolve of the frail woman. “I will fight till the end,” she says. But a conflict between hope and despair is evident in her voice. “Release our sons or tell us they are dead,” is her demand for which she has joined others at the park.
Braving the winter chill and morning fog, septuagenarian Hajra walks into SK Park in the city, where she joins scores of others already there. They all have a common purpose. News of their loved ones they say they lost in custody of security forces.
Hajra, 72, of Ongam village in Bandipore leaves home every morning in search of her son. She says her son Bashir Ahmad Sofi disappeared after he was picked up by the army from her village nine years ago.
Sofi has not been traced, but his family hasn’t lost hope. Every knock at their door still brings a smile on Hajra’s wrinkled face, expecting her son to stand at the doorway.
“He will return,” says Hajra. Her face doing the impossible, radiating hope and despair at the same time. “My son is alive. I am sure. He will return,” she says and breaks down.
Holding a portrait in her hands, she counts, “one, two, three, four”. She has lost, besides Sofi, three of her other young sons in the 15-year-long turmoil in Kashmir, leaving her with the fifth, Fayaz Ahamd Sofi, the sole breadwinner of the family till he lost his eyesight. Hajra says, “My three sons were killed by security forces and the fourth disappeared. The son remaining with me lost his eyesight.”
She narrates her search for her missing son.
“My son was picked up by the 14 RR from his bakery on Eid,” she says, as tears roll down her cheeks. “We searched for him everywhere, from prisons to graveyards. Army denies his arrest,” says Hajra.
Has she not gone to court to seek justice? “No,” she replies. “We did not have money. We went to court but there we were asked to pay Rs 10,000. Where would I have got it from? In the morning, when I left for Srinagar, my pocket was empty and my neighbours gave me some money”.
After Fayaz had to leave his job, carpet weaving, there is no earning member in the family of seven; Hajra, her 75-year-old husband, Fayaz and four grandchildren. For some time the family was without any shelter. “Our house was burnt by the army,” she alleges. “Villagers helped us build a shed, where we live today”.
Government help and compensation have eluded them. “Neither have we got any compensation from the government nor were we given any job under SRO 43 (a special job reservation for victims of violence in the state),” says Hajra.
The miseries and the misfortunes seem to have strengthened the resolve of the frail woman. “I will fight till the end,” she says. But a conflict between hope and despair is evident in her voice. “Release our sons or tell us they are dead,” is her demand for which she has joined others at the park.
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