Fractured Lives

Fractured Lives
By
Atul Gupta

I met Shafika while filming Waiting ' a documentary on the lives of missing people in Kashmir. In my first meeting with her, I was captivated by her large brown eyes and the soulful story they were yearning to tell. Shafika, in her early twenties, lives in a shanty on the banks of a dirty canal in Kashmir. She is a 'half-widow' ' her husband has been missing for a long time, and she is clueless as to whether he is dead or alive.

The first time I met a half-widow was back in July 2003, when a young Kashmiri journalist and her colleague came to me with some footage on these women who led fractured lives. They were waiting in vain¦ for an answer about their missing husbands, so they can move forward in their lives. Looking at those images, I noticed the strength and resolve of these women.

Half-widows are a harsh reality in Kashmir. Their husbands have been missing for years, possibly tortured and perhaps later killed by security forces in an encounter. Since their bodies have not been found, however, they are not declared dead.

Shafika's relationship with her own family deteriorated during her persistent search for her husband and her in-laws abandoned her and her three children soon after her husband disappeared. Unable to cope with the trauma, Shafika suffered an emotional breakdown and soon found herself in an over-crowded ward of the Government Psychiatry Hospital in Srinagar.

The lives of Kashmir's half-widows are fragmented and their stories devastating. Not only are many of them being denied their property rights by their in-laws, it seems neither society nor the legal system has a place for them. As they are not entitled to government compensation, (usually given when a person dies in terrorist violence or cross-firing), the half-widows struggle hard to earn a living for themselves.

With their families disowning them, what further impedes them from being able to lead normal lives is that they are not allowed to remarry, since the issue of remarriage is in itself a controversial topic. While some Muslim leaders claim that a woman whose husband has been missing for four years can remarry, protagonists on the other side assert that a half-widow has to wait for over seven years before she starts thinking of remarriage.

Shafika came across as a warm-hearted woman who needed a friend ' a person whom she could talk to without being pre-judged. She now works as a part-time peon in a media office, and washes clothes and utensils in few houses to earn her bread. Her story, one of many, reveals what a constant battle it has been for women like her to survive in the beautiful valley of Kashmir.

When I met eight-year old Rukaiya (Shafika's daughter) for the first time, she appeared mature and wise for her age. She was capable of looking after the daily chores of fetching water, cooking and maintaining the basic upkeep of the small hovel, which she called home. Rukaiya was playful, but did not have any time for friends as the housework kept her busy. Unfortunately, as Shafika was unable to properly care for her daughter, she was forced to send Rukaiya away to an orphanage.

When I met Rukaiya again, in the orphanage on the outskirts of Srinagar, she looked and behaved like any normal child. She sang songs and kept emphasising that she was happy. She said the staff and teachers of the trust were very nice, and that she was focusing her energy on her studies. Yet, when I was leaving, she asked me to tell her mother to bring her back home during Id.

When I went to Kashmir to research for my film, it was after a long gap of twenty years. I had childhood memories of green pastures, majestic mountains, and a myriad of rivers, streams and lakes. The memories were of kind-hearted, helpful and ever-smiling people.

My memories were now jolted by grim-faced army men carrying machine-guns, stationed every 100 yards on the highway from Jammu to Srinagar. Our jeep was stopped often, thoroughly searched and our bags ransacked. When we reached Srinagar, the omnipresence of the bunkers was striking. People were helpful but did not smile and as the sun went down, the streets were deserted and only the security patrols could be seen.

We were often threatened and pushed around by the military personnel. At first the crowds and individuals were also hostile and suspicious of us. But as soon as we gained the trust of the locals, a whole new world opened to us ' a world of the hidden truths. People wanted to talk on camera about their problems, and about the mysteries of Kashmir. Some talked about the politics while others shared the violations committed by the army.

It was clear indeed that everybody had been affected by the violence surrounding them. While one person had lost a family member in a bomb blast or a police encounter; another's son or husband was missing; and yet another had lost a limb or had been sexually assaulted. What was clear was that everyone had suffered in their own way. The insurgency had not spared a single home in Jammu and Kashmir.

To most of us, who are sitting thousands of kilometres away from Kashmir, the violence is represented as mere statistics ' 'X number of people dead in a blast, so many injured in a terrorist attack¦'. We see a small glimpse of Jammu and Kashmir everyday while watching the daily news on the television, but all that is shown is a insignificant graph depicting a few cold statistical figures.

I was, however, overcome with the faces of smiling children, with the innocence reflected in their eyes, and that is what propelled me to make my film Waiting.
Waiting is a compassionate story of half-widows, their courage, their lost loves and their constant battles with life.

The insurgency situation in Kashmir is what has compelled these half-widows to
suddenly switch from being the women behind the veils, to becoming bread-earners and responsible for their own autonomy. What makes the situation worse is the fact that since they live in a war zone area, they fear that they could get picked up or shot by an Indian security person or by any one of the militants in the valley.

During the past fifteen years, more than 10,000 people (mostly young boys and men) have been reported missing in Kashmir. The half-widows represent a small percentage of an overarching social and legal problem that has now affected thousands of households in the Valley. As the years have gone by, and the hope of ever seeing their husbands, sons and fathers dwindles, they have learnt to cope the conflicts within their families, the state, religion and day to day livelihood. These women are the true survivors of a rather cruel period in the history of a place once called ' 'paradise on earth'.

But this story should not end just here. Someone needs to be held accountable¦ not only for the information about the missing men, but also for the livelihood of the women who are now truly alone. In essence, the larger issue that needs to be addressed is why the government and judicial system want to hide the facts regarding these barbaric crimes.

Waiting... has been denied certification by the Central Board of Film Certification on the grounds that the film, 'does not deal with the poignant and complex situation in Kashmir in a comprehensive manner'. The overzealous bastions of our state failed even to refer to their own guidelines for certifying films. Now they must, however, contend with the rich traditions of political dissent and democratic voices in India_