Imagine
a day without knowing where your loved one is. Now imagine a lifetime.
But for the hundreds of families in Kashmir — whose sons, brothers,
husbands and fathers have been missing for years — there is little left
to imagine since this is a reality they must live with every day.
More
than 50,000 people have lost their lives while hundreds have been
incarcerated in the strife that has scarred Indian-Administered Kashmir
for decades now. Amid this chaos and uncertainty, nearly 8,000 Kashmiris
have ‘disappeared’ in the custody of Indian forces, according to the
Srinagar-based Association of Parents of Disappeared Persons (APDP).
With no trace of their whereabouts, the families spend each day
wondering if they would ever see their loved ones in flesh and blood, or
just the latter.
Parveena is the chairperson for the Association of Parents of Disappeared Persons — an initiative that seeks to bring together the families of all those who are missing and exert collective pressure on the relevant authorities. PHOTO COURTESY: PARVEENA AHANGAR FACEBOOK PAGE
Most
of this burden is carried by the women of the valley — the mothers,
wives and daughters of these disappeared persons — who continue
searching for their kith and kin, often in abject poverty. They have
little on their side except hope, but in this case, that is reason
enough.
A relentless daughter
Bilquees
was a ninth-grade student when her father, Manzoor Ahmad Dar, was
picked up by the Indian forces during a midnight raid in Rawalpora,
Srinagar, on January 18, 2002. She remembers every detail of that
fateful night, from the exact date and name to the face of the accused
Indian army officer.
Dar
— who worked as a chemist and earned the nickname ‘Doctor’ for treating
patients in the area — was picked up by the Indian army on charges of
sending Kashmiri boys across the Line of Control (LoC) for arms
training. But Bilquees vehemently denies any such charges. Initially,
the local police even refused to file an FIR for Dar’s disappearance but
gave in after protests by the family and locals. Col Kishore Malhotra,
who was identified as the main accused during the investigations,
ironically, rose from the rank of major to colonel since the incident.
Zaina Begum, with a portrait of her husband, Ghulam Mohidin Mir who has been missing for 17 years. She prays that her four children will one day get to see their father but has lost all hope for justice.
Bilquees
says her father was picked on the pretext of questioning but never
returned. The family was unable to trace him since they had no clue of
his whereabouts. “There was another guy who was also arrested by the
Indian army. He confirmed that my father was with him in custody at
Cargo, a notorious torture centre in Srinagar used by the Indian
forces,” she says. When the family went to Cargo, one of the personnel
confirmed that Dar was lodged there, but another higher-rank officer
denied any such information and forced them to leave.
Bilquees
claims they visited every police official who they believed could help
but to no avail. In the last week of March, 2002, she received a call
from an unknown person asking her and a few other family members to meet
him at a ground, adjacent to their locality. “When we visited the
place, we were questioned by four different Indian army officials for
hours. One of the officials included Kishore Malhotra, who had headed
the raid at our house,” she says. “After the questioning, an army jeep
revolved around us a few times and we were told that our father was in
it, watching us. But we could not see him.” Another member of their
neighbourhood who had business connections with the Indian army and was
believed to have some information on Dar’s whereabouts was also
arrested, taken to the canal and killed.
Rafiqa Bano with a portrait of her son, Irshad Ahmad Khan, who went missing at the age of 28 and hasn’t been found since.
Few
months after Dar’s disappearance, a Major Parmar from the Indian army
called Bilquees and informed her that her father was lodged in Tihar
Jail in New Delhi. He initially stated that Dar was severely tortured,
as a result of which his legs were amputated but later refuted the
statement saying he had been killed during interrogation in the Indian
army’s custody. “We did not believe him, we believe our father is
alive,” says Bilquees.
The
Indian army has tried all kinds of tactics from harassment to offering
money to the family to give up litigation but they refused to cave in to
the pressure. “Our house was raided again in 2007 by the Indian army
and we were asked to close the case. But we did not give in.” Later that
year, the family was summoned by the Jammu and Kashmir Police and
informed that Dar was killed in army custody and buried in some village.
“We were told that we will be shown some photographs as evidence and
that a DNA test will be carried out to match the evidence. But that was
never done,” says Bilquees. “We have not seen his body and we don’t
believe that he has died. Police may claim so, but how can we?”
Dar’s
wife, Jana Begum, does not now talk much about his disappearance. The
years of searching and waiting have taken an emotional and physical toll
on her. “Her blood pressure rises and her health deteriorates now if
anyone asks her about our father,” says her eldest born. The once-young
Bilquees is now married but her resolve to bring her father home and get
justice is still fresh. “I will never give up,” she says.
A hopeless mother
Rafiqa
Bano’s first born, Irshad Ahmed Khan, crossed the LOC in the early
years of militancy for training but instead of joining an armed group
upon return, he started his own business. That, however, did not spare
him from the scrutiny of the Indian army. On December 17, 2004, Khan was
called in by the Indian Army’s Colonel GPS Gill of 15 corps BB
cantonment, under the pretext of his life being in danger and, hence,
needing army protection.
Bilquees with a portrait of her father, Manzoor Ahmad, who was picked up by the Indian army during a midnight raid.
“We
begged them to release Khan but they did not listen to us,” says
Rafiqa. The family also approached the State Human Rights Commission
[SHRC] which in its final decision found that, “There was nothing on
record to show that said Irshad Amin Khan may not have been killed after
he was called and taken into custody by Col GPS Gill of 15 Corps at
Headquarters Srinagar on December 17, 2004, as he has not reached home
for more than seven years.”
Ten
years on, despite the media attention, Rafiqa has lost all hope of ever
seeing her son again. “Did anyone ever get any help with these news
reports? Will it bring back my son?”
A bereft wife
Zaina
Begum was barely 10 years old when she was married to Ghulam Mohidin
Mir, who was a year or two older than her. For years they lived together
happily and started a family until the 1990s when the political
situation in Kashmir took a sour turn.
In
the early years of the armed uprising in Kashmir, thousands of young
Kashmiris joined militant groups to fight the Indian rule. Ghulam
Mohidin Mir also joined the wave and crossed over to the other side of
the LoC for training. After he returned, he was arrested by the Indian
army and put in jail for nearly two and a half years. Upon release, Mir
returned to his family and started working as a gardener.
Things
were normal until April 11, 1997, when the army condoned Mir’s village
and raided their house in the wee hours of the morning. All the family
members were locked up in one room, except Mir who was taken to another
room, tortured and then finally lugged along by the Indian army.
For
three months after the incident, Zaina received different clues of her
husband’s whereabouts from various sources. “For the first 10 days, I
was told that my husband was lodged in Dooru Army camp (a village in
central Kashmir’s Budgam district). I would pack clothes and food for
him and wait outside the camp every day, but I never got as much as a
glimpse of him,” she recalls.
After
Dooru, Mir is said to have been shifted to another unknown location.
Despite repeated attempts, Zaina has had no luck in finding out where
and how her husband is. Even though she wants her children to meet their
father after 17 years, Zaina has no utopian ideas about getting
justice. “There is no hope in this system. Those who [are involved] in
my husband’s disappearance can never deliver justice to me.”
An unusual saviour
On
the night of August 18, 1990, the police, who had set out to arrest
Javaid Ahmed, a Jammu Kashmir Liberation Front militant, picked up his
young namesake instead. Javaid’s 57-year-old mother, Parveena Ahanger,
filed an FIR in Sher-e-Gari police station, Srinagar and scourged every
police station and jail for her son but found nothing.
It
was not until 1992 that the police verbally accepted that they had
arrested Javaid. Parveena was asked by the higher authorities to go to
Ram Nagar jail where they said Javaid had been detained. Upon reaching
there, she was informed that her son was not there and she had to leave
without any answers.
The
pattern continued for a long time. Each time Parveena found a clue
about her son, she would rush to the spot only to return empty-handed.
It was during these visits that she came across hundreds of families,
who like her were seeking the whereabouts of their relatives. They would
occasionally hold protests in courts but would be dispersed each time.
Parveena
started holding meetings with the parents of the disappeared persons at
her residence in Batamaloo, Srinagar, and discussed future strategies
which eventually led to the formation of the Association of Parents of
Disappeared Persons (APDP) — an association that seeks the whereabouts
of the disappeared persons. “When I realised that there were thousands
of mothers like me, I decided to bring them all together under one
association so that our voices together could bring a change,” says
Parveena, who serves as the chairperson of APDP. On the 10th of every month, Parveena along with other members of APDP hold a sit-in at a park in the capital city of Srinagar.
Parveena’s
quest for justice has not been limited to Kashmir. She has travelled to
the Philippines, Indonesia, Europe and many Indian states to push the
issue of missing persons. As a result of her efforts, APDP has been
instrumental in building up pressure on the government who acknowledged
that more than 8,000 persons had gone missing under the custody of
Indian forces and also assured a halt on these disappearances.
Her
relentless struggle for justice earned her the nickname of the ‘Iron
Lady of Kashmir’. She was also nominated for the 2005 Nobel Peace prize
and the Frontline Award for Human Rights Defenders at Risk in 2011. She
may have lost a son, but in Parveena, a lot of mothers found the will to
live.
Each day is a lifetime
Like
every year, the global community observes the International Day of the
Disappeared on August 30 to draw attention to the fate of those who are
imprisoned in places unknown to their families. Many mark it in their
diaries as an important photo opportunity. Some even show initiative and
issue an emotionally fuelled statement. But for these families it is
another reminder of what they had been robbed of — justice, closure and,
most importantly, another day they could have spent with those who are
now missing.
Qadri Inzamam is a freelance journalist based in Kashmir.
He tweets @Qadri_Inzamam
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