Agony Without End : Kashmir's missing

By Aditi Bhaduri

It is an ordinary spring afternoon in Pratap Park in Srinagar. The usual crowd flocks to it. The park is a haven for those seeking a bit of peace and tranquility in the center of bustling city. People loll around, reading, chatting, or simply watching the world go by. It is easy, however, to spot the group of somber-faced women sitting in front of a large banner that reads 'MISSINGS', capped by the words 'Where are our dear ones?' and 'Association of Parents of Disappeared Persons'. The women are united by a common yearning and purpose – news of their loved ones who disappeared abruptly one day from their lives and homes. These are the women folk of Kashmir's 'missing'.

I meet Hajra, a woman in her seventies. She has come all the way from Bandipore, some 60 kms away. Her son Bashir Ahmad Sofi disappeared after he was picked up by the army from her village nine years ago. Her three other sons were killed by security forces, as they were reported to be militants. Thus, Hajra has not got compensation from the state as families of militants are not eligible for it. Her son, who remained with her husband and her and was the sole earning member, has lost his eyesight and now the family is bereft of any income. 'Neighbours and some kind people look after us,' says she, peering through her wrinkle-lined face. But she is determined not to give up. Age, utter penury and distance could not keep her away. 'I will fight till the end,' she says. 'Release our sons or tell us they are dead.' Tears keep rolling down her eyes.

Her neighbour Saleema, is much younger and better able to carry her grief. Eight years ago, when her brother Nazir Ahmad Gilkar was returning home from a wedding in a big group, he, along with two friends, were s topped at Soura police station. They did not return home though the others did. The relatives of the three immediately went searching for them at the police station but the Task Force stationed there was rude to them, refusing to even register a case. Ultimately, a neighbouring police station registered one. Finally, Saleema and the relatives of the other two missing got to know that they had been killed by the Special Task Force, who reported that the three were foreign militants. The body was later exhumed in Saleema's presence and given a decent burial in their locality in Nowhatta 'Later we came to know that a band of five Special Operations' Group personnel were involved in this. They were arrested during the reign of the then Chief Minister Dr. Farooq Abdullah, only to be let free during (former Chief Minister) Mufti's regime. I appeal to the Chief Minister Ghulam Nabi Azad to look into the case. I fail to understand why action is not taken against those responsible for the triple murder case. We ask only for justice,' says Saleema sullenly.

Saleema's story is also, to some extent, that of Tasleema's. Tasleema's husband Nazir Ahmad Decca, a perfume vendor in Srinagar 's busy Lalchowk area, went missing about a year ago. He was picked up by an unidentified white 'security' Gypsy car and nothing was heard of him since. When recently in January, the 'fake encounter' death of Abdul Rehman Padroo was exposed, the exhumation of other bodies of those suspected to be killed in such encounters was ordered. The very second body exhumed turned out to be that of Tasleema's husband. She has received a compensation of Rs. 1 lakh, ($2320 approximately). The money was soon spent – Tasleema has two small children and she does not work. But she had nevertheless turned up in a support of solidarity and also as a symbol of the gross injustice and victimization of the state authorities. 'Can this amount compensate my loss, my anguish? Can this money compensate a father for my children?' she asks, without expecting any replies.

There are also some men at the vigil. Ghulam Nabi Rather's 14 years old son Tariq Ahmed, went missing in July 1995 from Kupwara district. He, along with his friend Altaf Hussein, was picked up by an army officer of the 22 Rashtriya Rifles. Today Ghulam Nabi sits in Pratap Park, along with other members of the APDP, holding his son's photo, a newspaper clipping reporting the disappearance and an application filed to the Divisional Commissioner in Srinagar.

By and large though, it is the women who are present and visible in the APDP—mothers, sisters and wives—more popularly known as 'half-widows'—of the disappeared. They are led by Parveena Ahangar, a squat middle-aged woman of average height. What motivates this semi-literate housewife with little exposure beyond home and hearth to spearhead this movement?

It is, of course, the disappearance of her son Javed some 16 years ago, when militancy had just started in the valley. ' The security forces raided our house on 2 June and took away my son Mohamed who was 14 years old. My husband and I were able to occasionally meet him but again one night there was a raid in our locality and my 16 years old son Javed was taken away.' A few months later Ahangar was told that Javed had been seen in an underground jail in Bharuchili. That was the last Ahangar heard of Javed and though she and her husband visited major jails across India, approached authorities and spent a lot of hard-earned money, they could not trace Javed. Meanwhile, Mohammed was released and Ahangar filed a case in court for Javed. Seventeen years have passed but Ahangar is still waiting to know the whereabouts of her son. Quiet and composed, there is a steely resolve in her voice that conveys her determination.

'I do not want money, I do not want compensation. I just tell them, tell me where my son is. If he is no more, then just give me his body, so that I can give him a decent burial.' Ahangar's case has been pending in the court of the Chief Judicial Magistrate since 1997. 'I have stopped going there and instead we are trying to look for justice in other ways.'

She soon discovered that she was not alone. In court, while trying to find answers to her search, she met many other parents in a similar predicament. According to the Public Commission of Human Rights, there are approximately 8,000 - 10,000 persons whose whereabouts are unknown to their kin. They are the missing men of Kashmir—some like Tariq Ahmed Rather, as young as fourteen, almost all of them from the lower middle class. There are three main causes of disappearances, points out Abdul Rashid Hangura, a member of the State Rehabilitation Council and himself a lawyer who has represented families of many of the disappeared. There are those who have crossed the border into Pakistan to undergo arms training there—and have joined the militants sponsored by Pakistan; those who have been picked up by the Indian security forces and are languishing in jail, and those who have simply been killed—either by militants or in custody—and their families not informed.

So when years went by and the search of those like Ahangar did not cease, the idea of getting together and forming a common platform emerged. The Association of Parents of Disappeared Persons (APDP) was formed in 1994. To maintain the integrity and moral dimension of their cause, the association accepts in its folds only the relatives of those who are known to have been picked up by the state organs. APDP does not accept anyone whose relative has gone missing because of the militants—either joining them or being abducted or killed by them.

Many of these parents, whose sons had gone missing, had filed cases, and they decided to make their voices heard, first within India and then outside. Soon they linked up with the Jammu and Kashmir Coalition of Civil Society (JKCCS) through which they were able to get in touch with the Philippines–based Asian Federation Against Involuntary Disappearances (AFAD) . They participated in conferences, gave interviews, went on hunger strikes, erected memorials to the disappeared and registered protests on World Disappearance Day and World Human Rights Day every year. Though they were able to get themselves heard and succeeded in highlighting the issue, nothing concrete happened. They were, however, able to motivate other parents and relatives of similar disappeared cases not to give up and to continue the struggle.

The exhumation in January this year of the body of 35 years old Abdul Rehman Padroo—killed in a fake encounter, came as a blessing for the APDP members. The wave of indignation and anger that swept through the country with the expose, helped turn the spotlight on the phenomenon of disappearances in Kashmir anew. This has encouraged the relatives of all those who have gone missing to renew their struggle and demand an investigation into all the cases of missing persons. This has also injected a fresh lease of life into the APDP.

The APDP withdrew from the JKCCS and has begun reorganizing itself. Its current membership stands at 300 parents and relatives of disappeared persons. Its first move has been the demonstration it held in New Delhi in March. APDP members demanded government accountability, and though no response was forthcoming on that front, the association managed to generate a great deal of awareness about their situation in the heart of the capital. Lawyers, students, human rights activists, artists, intellectuals came forward and demonstrated with them in a show of solidarity. Motivated by the success of this demonstration, the group has now begun holding silent sit-in vigils on the tenth of every month in a park in the heart of Srinagar.

Meanwhile, Chief Minister of Jammu and Kashmir state Ghulam Nabi Azad has announced a judicial probe by Justice M.L. Kaul, a retired High Court Judge. The Jammu and Kashmir Police has already constituted a special investigating team led by a Superintendent of Police. These measures, say Ahangar and APDP's legal advisor Mir Hafiz Ullah, is, however, only with regard to the fake encounter killings. No initiative has yet been taken with regard to the cases of the disappeared. Further, last month in May, the Supreme Court in a 2-judge bench dismissed the writ petition of Masooda Parveen, seeking compensation for the death of her husband, a lawyer, by the 28 Rashtriya Rifles, according to APDP lawyer Hafiz Ullah. 'This has disillusioned and alienated many Kashmiris,' says the lawyer, which makes the APDP's task more expedient and incumbent.

The APDP is planning to revamp its administrative set up by constituting district level committees for speedier flow of information and easy mobility of its members. APDP will also be setting up an advisory committee with prominent intellectuals, activists and lawyers from Kashmir and other parts of India on its board. Meanwhile, APDP has begun creating a data-base to pass on information of all the cases of its members to the United Nations. Recently, according to the APDP, the first case of a missing person from Kashmir , that of Manzoor Ahmed Wani, who was allegedly arrested by 28 Rashtriya Rifles in 2001, has been registered by the Working Group in United Nations investigating the enforced involuntary disappearances

However, many grey areas remain. In many cases the relatives did not or could not register a case, they only have the credibility of word-of-mouth. In some cases, like that of Padroo, other complications arise. Padroo was fixed by his own relative, for reasons of money. In yet others, militants too could be involved, something that no family wants to talk about. This is too dangerous for them—it puts them into the line of fire of the militants, and also stigmatizes them socially in a society which is extremely tradition–ridden and severely conservative. There are also allegations that they have dubious sources of funding. The APDP will have to confront all this and probably more. Meanwhile, days pass by and the wait continues.