No Certificate, No Closure: Kashmir's River Tragedy Refuses To Rest

(MENAFN- Kashmir Observer)
File photo

By Aisha Hasnain

He slowed down at a certain point on the riverbank.“This is where,” he said,“the bodies were pulled from.”

Then the car stopped, and the driver announced the arrival.

On my right was the spot where the dead were returned by the river and on my immediate left, Sakeena's home.

Her front door faces the very river that took her nine-year-old son and her husband, Showkat.

Read Also Gandbal Boat Tragedy: A Year Later, One Body Still Missing Video: One Year On, the River Keeps Its Secret in Kashmir

Already a year has passed since nine people were devoured by the river. It returned eight of them dead, but refuses to give back Showkat.

His old mother keeps a record of missing bodies fished out of water. None of them so far has been her son.

In Showkat's mysterious absence, his better-half has become a battered-half.

“I was pregnant with our first child during the September 2014 floods,” Sakeena's voice was steady but her eyes told another story.“Showkat rescued some 200 people during that flood. He's not someone who could've drowned.”

Sakeena gave birth to their son, Faziq Showkat, eleven days after the flood.

A decade later, Faziq was in the boat that capsized on April 16, 2024, at around 8am, in Gandbal, Srinagar.

Showkat was initially able to save himself but when he realised Faziq was missing, he jumped back into the river, never to return.

Crossing the river in a boat was a routine for the villagers. The footbridge that could've averted the tragedy was still work in progress.

The boat was ferrying eighteen people: schoolchildren, their mothers, and a few labourers. Jhelum was looking swollen and scary due to relentless rainfall. The wooden vessal couldn't brave the strong water current and overturned.

Nine survived, six were declared dead the same day, and three went missing. Two other dead bodies were retrieved in the second week. The only one still unaccounted for is Showkat.

“Two dead bodies were recovered today from the river,” Showkat's mother narrates.“One is from Shopian, another from Kupwara.”

The one from Kupwara was identified by the ID card he had on him. His face had decomposed, Sakeena adds.“My husband also carries all the cards with himself – the ATM card, the Aadhaar card, his licence, his phone.”

She shows me a picture of Showkat, treasuring it as a souvenir:“This is the jacket he wore that morning.”

His mother looks at the picture with a longing in her eyes,“He used to carry himself so well.”

Following the boat tragedy, Lieutenant Governor Manoj Sinha visited the area. When asked what he would do for the locals, his answer was,“I'll show it by doing the job.”

The bridge was ultimately built after 7 years. The locals heaved a sigh of relief. But the human development cost still hangs heavy over Gandbal.

Showkat was the only son born after his five sisters. His mother still sits by the bank and waits for him,“I just want to bury him!”

There is no bitterness in her tone or tearful eyes, only pain. Sakeena tries to compose her,“'Mummy, we've two blessed daughters. We're a proper family with a house that still hustles with life.'”

It's a small house that Showkat built with his sweat and savings after they lost their ancestral abode to the flood. Showkat worked as a mason. His father died when he was in grade 9. Since then, he had carried his family.

“He used to work late into the night,” his mother tells me.“You would see the injuries on his knuckles. Back then, I used to receive only a couple of thousand rupees as pension but we managed to make it [home] out of that poverty.”

Inside Showkat's sorrow-filled shelter was a man figure, listening to the two traumatized talking heads. He finally joined the conversation.

“My son-in-law never once asked for help,” says Sakeena's father.“He did not let my daughter sell her gold when she had offered to...”

“Neither Showkat Sa'ab, nor Mummy,” Sakeena completes her father's comment.“She [Mummy] said you have kids and you will need it.”

But when Faziq wouldn't stop asking for a car, Sakeena sold her gold so that Showkat could buy a small car for the family. The car was never bought and the money was perhaps used to pay off the bank loan that Showkat had taken, pledging the house as collateral.

Two weeks back, when Sakeena came to know that the interest had risen to Rs 52,000, she was devastated.

“We were promised a lot of things at the time of this accident but none of them were true,” said the woman who can't even call herself a widow.“The insurance company seeks evidence of Showkat's death.”

Under Indian law, a missing person cannot be declared dead until seven years. And this is adding insult to the injury. Official hands are tied to help Sakeena on a professional level.

She had approached the higher authorities but to no avail. She did not receive relief for her husband's case and no help was provided by the bank or the insurance company in clearing the loan.

There's no death certificate Sakeena can provide. And the insurance company simply asked her to wait for all these years. However, some revenue officials advised her against that.

“We couldn't wait for seven years,” one of the officials said.“By then the interest would be too high. She could lose the house.”

These Samaritans helped her with some money on a personal level and assisted her in clearing the loan.

Sakeena is relieved, but she wants to live a life of integrity that Showkat lived. She's an intelligent lady with no formal education. She wants to work to support her girls' education. Her little ones are twins who study in first grade.

The grief-stricken family now depends largely on Showkat's mother, who survives on a modest pension left by her late husband. That pension will end with her, leaving Sakeena and her daughters with no support.

As of now, monthly electricity bill of over Rs 1500 remains Sakeena's household worry. She tries to use power judiciously, but she still gets a big bill.

This burden gets heavier with her everyday sight and struggles. Right in front of her kitchen window, lies Faziq's grave. He's buried in the backyard and Sakeena sees it all the time.

No one could've represented them at the time of the burial. Numbed with pain and agony, she herself had asked for him to be buried in the yard once echoing with his laughter and plays.

It reminds me of something my zoology professor once said: If hormones didn't blunt our pain during grief, we would have to bury the mother with her child.

One such mother is seeking closure now. But the river that consumed her husband and her son's grave make it difficult. And then there are heartless rules prolonging her pain.

Sakeena is supposed to wait for years till she gets the death certificate and eventually some relief. Till then, the river is likely to keep its secret.

• The author goes by her pen name, Aisha Hasnain. She can be reached at [email protected] .

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