Mothers Day: 'It wasn't dream, my sons had come'

Sunday, 08 May 2011 19:02 Bandipora - Shazia Khan (Pictures Yawar Kabli)

It was dark and silent at midnight. At one of the mud houses in Aloosa village, silence was broken by a loud bang at the door. A group of men knocked and called for Saida. Muaji, mauji they shouted in Kashmiri (Muaji is mother in local parlance). Saida was jubilant, her sons had returned. There was no electricity in the village, she looked for a candle, but the calling grew louder and she groped towards the direction. A wooden door stood between the much waited encounter. With feeble hands she tried to unbolt the door and in the event fell down and injured her knee. The sound of her falling woke her daughter, Shakeela, who immediately rushed to her. Saida insisted on opening the door. A dark silence was all she could feel.

“It was not a dream, my sons had come. I heard my sons outside the door. They were calling me.....but when I tried to open the door, my knee got hurt and I fell down," Saida says, while applying ointment to her knee that has turned blue. Then she murmurs and Shakeela, who sits besides, says, “No one was there outside last night.”

Shakeela slowly moves closer to her and in a consoling voice says, “you dreamt about them again because you don’t take medicines properly these days.”

But, Saida insists she heard her sons. Shakeela points towards a piece of land fenced with rusted wire at a few meters distance from their house. "They have been buried there...... don't you know that?" she questions her mother. Saida nods and replies, "My sons are resting there, how could I forget they are buried in mounds of mud."

With an injured knee and a crumbling gait, she walks towards the graveyard. "All of them were killed by army... some in encounters, and some in custody," she says and stops at a grave. “Here lays my elder son Bilal. He was born in 1965, but only after 29 years his father laid him to rest here. At the extreme left of Bilal's grave, a distance of few feet, is his younger brother Ayoub’s grave. He was killed by army too,” she says.

Between the graves of her two sons there is an empty space where she sits. "I have asked village heads not to bury anyone in between the graves of my two sons. I want my third son Aazad who has also been killed by army to be buried here. He was killed at border but police did not handover his dead body to me,” she says amid sobs. Aazad was seventeen year old when he was killed, she adds.

From last sixteen years Saida is in a state of disturbed bereavement - a mental ailment, her daughter Shakeela informs. "She is under treatment from past decade but medicines only help in reducing the intensity of her pain but  cannot cure her trauma."

Her doctor says she is physically fit but psychological she is depressed and there isn’t much possibility of recovery. “She has reached a stage now where she is neither ready to forget her past nor she able to accept the reality of her dead sons,” he says.

Saida, 67, had three sons. At the inception of armed insurgency in Jammu and Kashmir, her sons Bilal and Ayoub hailing from Bandipora decided to join militant outfits in 1990. “For about four years both of them were actively involved in militancy,” Shakeela says.  However, in August 1994, Ayoub was killed in an encounter at Kursu. “There was around more than ten bullets in his chest. We received his bullet ridden body from Bandipora police station,” she says.

That was the beginning of Saida’s mental illness. After Ayoub’s death, she forced Bilal to quit the militant ranks. “But he refused and only three months after Ayoub’s death, army arrested and killed him at Koyal Muqaam,” says Shakeela.

Saida was distraught; her only hope was her youngest son Aazad. But  Aazad at that time was training with the militant ranks in Pakistan administered Kashmir. “My mother after the death of her two sons started spending her days waiting for his third son’s return,” says Shakeela. Her wait ended with the news of Aazad’s death while he was crossing the Line of Control.

Aazad’s death paralyzed Saida mentally. “My old father was shattered after he shouldered the coffin of my third brother. There was nobody left in our house to take responsibility. We were facing the wrath of conflict and there was no source of income. To earn a living became hard,” says Shakeela.

In 1995, Saida’s husband Abdullah Bhat sensing the vacuum married Shakeela to Riyaz Ahmad Lone. Riyaz, a laborer, quickly filled the vacuum and supported the family for more than a year. “I was pregnant in 1996 and he also joined a militant outfit and a year later was killed in an encounter near LoC,” says Shakeela.

Lone’s death added to their agony. Saida lost the capacity to hear. "My father developed heart complications but to run the house he started working again and after five years he died of a cardiac attack,” she says.

The family since Abdullah’s death has been living in abject poverty. As Saida leaves the graveyard, she says with a sigh, “I do not know am I most fortunate mother or most  unfortunate mother in the world. Almighty bestowed me four sons including my son in law but they all got killed. I am waiting for the moment when I will close my eyes forever and will be together with my sons in heaven.”(Kashmir Dispatch)