How One Kashmiri Girl's Strength Inspired An Entire Village

(MENAFN- Kashmir Observer)
Representational Photo

By Gowher Bhat

In the serenity of South Kashmir, a small village called Barpora rarely makes the news. There are no busy streets, no trendy cafés, and no famous landmarks. But if you take a walk through this sleepy hamlet, you might meet a girl whose life story is anything but ordinary. Her name is Rumaisa, and she has shown what true strength looks like.

Rumaisa's story is not about fame or feats. It is about survival. It is about facing life's hardest challenges and keeping on, even when everything seems impossible.

At just fourteen, when most girls her age were in school and dreaming of small pleasures, Rumaisa was already taking care of her family. Her father, once the strong leader of their home, had become a shadow of himself. He started to slip into long silences. Some days he would not even recognize his own children.

There were no doctors to explain what was happening. No one had the words for it. Rumaisa understood, even if she didn't know why this was happening.“I lost him even before he died,” she says softly.“I had to make peace with that, even though I didn't understand what was going on.”

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Her mother, who had always been strong, could not handle the stress of caring for a sick husband and three young children. She began to fall apart. With no income, no support, and no one to turn to, the family's world grew darker.

And then, when Rumaisa thought things couldn't get worse, they did. Her uncle, who lived just down the street, refused to help. Rumaisa went to him, asking for help to get medicine for her father. He didn't even open the door.“I begged him just once,” Rumaisa says.“But he didn't even listen.”

That was the moment Rumaisa decided that if no one else was going to help, she would have to.

The very next day, Rumaisa stepped into a world that no child should have to face. She didn't wait for someone to fix things. She wrapped her scarf tightly around her head and started working. While most girls her age went to school, Rumaisa started gathering firewood, helping women in the fields, and selling vegetables before the sun even rose.“Work doesn't wait for tears,” she says.“And neither does hunger.”

Every rupee she earned was saved. She used that money to buy a calf, and then another. Slowly, little by little, she started to build a small herd of cows. By the time she turned fifteen, Rumaisa was not just taking care of her family; she was the one providing for them.

She cooked. She cleaned. She milked cows and sold the milk before going to school. She took her father to the city for treatment, riding on crowded buses while holding his hand. She made sure her younger sister had the things she needed, even though Rumaisa herself wore shoes that were falling apart.

There were no applause, no recognition. No one called her inspiring. But every day, Rumaisa showed up.“I didn't have the luxury to break,” she says.“My mother needed me. My siblings needed me. There was no one else.”

Soon, the other girls in Barpora started noticing what Rumaisa was doing. They watched as she passed by with her buckets of milk. One of them, Shazia, decided to follow in Rumaisa's footsteps.

“She taught me how to save from selling milk,” Shazia says.“She didn't make me feel small. She made me believe that we didn't have to wait for someone to rescue us. We could do it ourselves.”

Rumaisa never intended to start a movement. She just wanted to make sure no one else felt as alone as she had. As other girls began to learn from her, they created small groups. They started raising hens, selling milk, and saving money.

It was a quiet movement, one that didn't need a name. Rumaisa didn't shout about it. She didn't ask for attention. She simply lived her life in a way that showed others how to live with strength.

Years passed, and things started to change. Rumaisa's brother, now old enough, helped with the cattle. Her sister, once a child, began dreaming of becoming a teacher. Through all the challenges, Rumaisa held onto one hope-a home of her own, a place to rest.

In her early thirties, she married in a small ceremony. For a brief time, life seemed a little softer. But then, less than a year later, her husband passed away. Once again, Rumaisa faced a deep loss.

“I cried in silence,” she says.“But I still had people to live for. My sister. My brother. My mother. I couldn't let the grief take over.”

Despite the losses, Rumaisa's strength never faltered. She kept going. And slowly, her quiet strength began to touch the people around her. The girls who once watched from the windows now followed her example. They learned how to raise livestock, how to start small businesses, how to live with hope in difficult times.

Rumaisa didn't ask for any recognition. She didn't need people to notice her. She just wanted to make sure that the people she loved would be okay. And in doing that, she became a quiet symbol of what it means to truly be strong.

Today, if you walk through Barpora, you won't see her face on a billboard. But if you listen closely, you will hear her name spoken with respect. She is the girl who refused to give up. She is the girl who carried her family through their hardest days, not by asking for help but by showing others how to be strong.

Her legacy is not built on loud achievements or public applause. It is built on the quiet, everyday acts of survival. Rumaisa never asked to be a hero. She just lived in a way that inspired others to do the same.

Her name may not be known outside Barpora, but in this village, she is remembered with admiration. Her story proves that true strength doesn't need to shout. Sometimes, it is the quietest acts that make the most lasting impact.

• Author is an English language instructor based in Pulwama.

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