And they vanished into thin air
August 30, 2015 Leave a comment
Syed Zafar Mehdi
Parveena Ahangar’s small world came crashing down on the fateful night of August 18, 1990 when her 16-year old school-going son Javed Ahmed vanished under mysterious circumstances. The boy was picked up by Indian paramilitary forces during a midnight raid at his uncle’s house in India-controlled Kashmir. The grief-stricken mother spent sleepless nights waiting for her son to return. She never saw him or heard from him again.
This Himalayan valley of shimmering lakes and beautiful meadows has been the bone of contention between the estranged South Asian neighours India and Pakistan for more than six decades. The two nuclear powers have gone to war on two occasions to claim the disputed territory.
In 1989, a full-blown armed insurgency broke out in Kashmir. The anti-India sentiment assumed a whole new dimension. In order to quell the popular uprising, Indian armed forces would resort to unbridled use of force against the civilians. The sense of fear and susceptibility was overpowering. Young boys would leave home for a game of cricket and never return. Many of them would be abducted from their homes and dragged to various interrogation centers. The traumatized families would run from pillar to post to know the whereabouts of their loved ones.
Day of Disappeared:
Like every year, the International Day of Disappeared was observed across the world on August 30. In Indian-controlled Kashmir, people assembled in Pratap Park in the heart of Srinagar to show solidarity with the families of the missing. The relatives – mothers, sisters, daughters – sat quietly, holding the posters, pictures and placards, as cameras zoomed into their wrinkled faces and sunken eyes. One of them was 80-year-old Hajira, who had come all the way from North Kashmir’s Bandipora district to attend the protest. Her three sons were killed at the time when militancy was at its peak, and the fourth went missing. She has become weak but the resilience is infectious. The protest was also joined by JKLF Chairman Yaseen Malik and parents of the youth who were killed by Indian forces during the 2010 unrest.
“For unknown reasons, unmarked graves in the disputed territory of the world’s largest democracy have not been deemed scandalous enough” |
This year, the protest had a creative element to it. Many young artists took active part in the daylong silent sit-in. Some of them wrapped themselves in banners with faces white washed, while some scribbled notes in black ink on their bare bodies. The trend of artistic resistance has become increasingly popular in Kashmir of late, with the young breed of artists, cartoonists, singers, and poets taking the center stage. “The resistance movement has become inclusive and youth are taking the lead now. These are the children of conflict who grew up in the turbulent period of the 90s and they pretty much know the art and science of resistance,” says journalist Hilal Mir.
Events to mark the Day of Disappeared were also held in JNU New Delhi, and TISS Mumbai, where Kashmiri students and activists spoke on the phenomenon of disappearances in Kashmir.
Getting together for a cause:
Ahangar’s is not an isolated case. Thousands of young men mysteriously disappeared during the turbulent 1990s. The law enforcement agencies did not move. With no help coming from anywhere, Ahangar decided to run the gauntlet. She got together some of the families whose members had disappeared under similar circumstances. In 1994, the Association of Parents of Disappeared Persons (APDP) was born. Without any formal education, she still managed to create a stir. “I knew there were thousands of poor hapless mothers like me, so I decided to get them on board and carry forward our struggle collectively,” says Ahangar. There is another organisation by same name working for the same cause, run by J&K Coalition of Civil Society (JKCCS).
Young boys would leave home for a game of cricket and never return |
Over the years, both the associations have become bigger with more than a thousand members who have similar tales of despair and despondency to narrate.
Nazima Jan (31) of North Kashmir district has been waiting for her missing three brothers for the last 15 years. She joins a protest in a public park in Srinagar – the summer capital of Kashmir – on the 10th and 28th of every month, against enforced disappearances.
On August 30, the families got together again and took a pledge to continue their search for the missing. However, their protests are largely ignored by mainstream Indian media. “No doubt India has a powerful and free media but many editors and other key players in the industry, if not all, have drawn a line in certain issues and areas including Kashmir. They call it ‘national interest’,” says Yusuf Jameel, senior journalist who covered Kashmir for BBC in 1990s.
“The phenomenon of enforced disappearances started in 1990, says Zahir ud Din, senior journalist and activist. “Initially it was not part of a bigger design to scare people. Brutal torture claimed hundreds of lives and their bodies were disposed of in rivers, lakes and elsewhere. Then the security agencies realized how it can be used as an effective tool to scare people. It became a policy,” says Zahir ud Din, who authored a book ‘Did they vanish into thin air?’ on Kashmir’s disappeared.
APDP has played an instrumental role in bringing the issue of enforced disappearances in Kashmir into limelight. Ahangar (49) is now a member of AFAD (Asian Federation of Involuntary Disappearances). She has travelled to many parts of the world like Philippines (2000), Indonesia (2004), and Europe (2008) to speak on the phenomenon of enforced disappearances in Kashmir. In 2008, the United Nation’s Voluntary Fund for Victims of Torture granted funds to APDP, which are spent on the medicines, clothes and other necessities of the families of victims.
Mass graves and missing people:
The International Convention for the Protection of All Persons from Enforced Disappearance adopted by UN General Assembly on 20 December 2006 explicitly terms the systematic practice of enforced disappearances a ‘crime against humanity’.
Human rights activists in Kashmir claim that close to 8,000 people, including combatants and non-combatants, have been subjected to enforced disappearance in the region over the last 20 years. The International Peoples’ Tribunal on Human Rights and Justice in Indian-administered Kashmir (IPTK) in its report released in December 2009 revealed 2,700 unmarked graves containing more than 2,900 bodies in more than 50 villages in north Kashmir. Due to some operational constraints, the research was confined to select villages, so the observers believe the number could be much higher.
In August 2011, the 11-member police investigation team of the State Human Rights Commission (SHRC) verified 2,156 unidentified bodies in unidentified graves in Bandipora, Baramulla, Kupwara, and Handwara districts. It was a moment of vindication for the families of victims; however, no further investigation was done to get to the root of matter. “For unknown reasons, unmarked graves in the disputed territory of the world’s largest democracy have not been deemed scandalous enough,” says Mirza Waheed, author of The Collaborator, a critically acclaimed novel set in Kashmir. “Doesn’t such an astonishing discovery merit a serious inquiry and investigation by the Indian State?” he asks. “In the long run, state will not want to penalize itself on anything, least of all disappearances which it enforces as a matter of representational threat to people to safeguard its imagined sovereignty,” says Ather Zia, Kashmir-born and US-based anthropologist and writer.
Many believe the missing persons have been killed and dumped in these unmarked graves. “Many families are ready to volunteer their DNA samples to confirm if their kin is buried in these graves to gain closure, at the same time many see it as another deferral tactic by the government, since the tests are not happening any soon,” says Zia.
To be or not to be
Twenty-nine year old Nusrat (name changed) is a resident of southern Kashmir district. She is known in her locality as a ‘half-widow,’ a term used for women whose spouses are missing. “The simple fact that their men have disappeared and not been declared dead has left thousands of these women in a wretched state with no legal protection,” says Aliya Bashir, Kashmir-based journalist, who has done extensive research on the half-widows of Kashmir.
“Half-widows face the worst kind of economic, social and emotional insecurities. They live between hope and despair, hope of seeing their loved ones again, and despair of not finding a clue since last 25 years,” says Zia.
Perpetrators and inaction:
On December 6, 2012, the IPTK released a report, “Alleged Perpetrators – Stories of Impunity in Jammu and Kashmir”. The meticulous research work of two years uses data from official state documents and witness testimonies. It examined 214 cases of human-rights abuses and the role of 500 alleged perpetrators. Among the 500 perpetrators were 235 army personnel, 123 paramilitary personnel, 111 Jammu and Kashmir Police personnel and 31 government-backed associates. The list of alleged perpetrators included two major generals, three brigadiers, nine colonels, three lieutenant colonels, 78 majors and 25 captains. “Cases presented in this report reveal that there is a policy to not genuinely investigate or prosecute the armed forces for human-rights violations,” said a press handout by the IPTK.
Taking serious cognizance of the report, Amnesty International called for an “impartial probe into the allegations of human-rights violations made in a report”. The Asian Federation Against Enforced Disappearances said the study “clearly points to a high level of command decision, given the involvement of top ranking officers of the Indian Army”. So far, no action has been taken on the report. “Many people in Kashmir,” says Waheed, “have resigned to the idea that justice is a far-fetched dream, and the perpetrators may never be booked.”
Notwithstanding the hopelessness and helplessness, Ahangar is not tired of waiting for her son. “There is light at the end of the tunnel,” she says.
(First published in The Friday Times, Pakistan)
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