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Sudhirendar Sharma
Despite my wife’s trepidation, I couldn’t resist travelling to support local communities in their post-war rehabilitation, just about the time when the guns were falling silent during the Kargil War. The occasional thunder from the burning ammunition dump that had been targeted by the enemy didn't bother the locals who had been through the worst.
Some 30,000 people were uprooted from their homes, had lost their animals, and more importantly, the productive three summer months. Having extended unconditional support to the armed forces during those testing months, the locals expected more than what came their way as relief. There were several, like the chaiwallah at Drass, overlooking the imposing battlefield of the infamous Tiger Hills, who had extended their undeterred services under gunfire.
From the treacherous heights of Batalik to the undulating dry slopes of Mushko valley, I gathered stories of trauma and courage from hundreds of villagers in Chanigund, Drass, Holiyal, Kharboo and Trespone. Village residents dreaded going to their fields as unexploded bombs were suspected to be still scattered around. That such bombs had claimed the lives of two young boys was still fresh in their minds. I spotted a half-buried mortar in an abandoned field in Kharboo. For humans and cattle, the agricultural farms had become the new killing fields.
In all, some 4,000 families were evacuated from as many as 52 villages, not a small number in a sparsely populated cold-desert region. Noticeable was the resilience of the communities, and their hand-holding. Trespone, a village with 370 households located about 20 km from Kargil, had played host to all families from the border village of Kaksar — the first village to be evacuated. I had made a failed attempt to seek benevolence of the resource-stretched district administration for the households. One from the village, Tahir Hussain, had questioned if seeking compensation for the goodwill extended to their brethren wasn’t unethical!
It wasn’t easy to convince the administration that as much as the displaced, the hosts too needed to be counted in the relief and rehabilitation package. Much to my surprise, affected households demanded fuelwood and not food as relief. Survival during harsh winter, which was already knocking at their door, could be possible without food, but not without fuelwood to keep the homes warm and liveable.
War had traumatised a large number of children. Eleven-year-old Mohammad Abuzor was one of the several children who witnessed the unfolding war. Alone at home when the war erupted, he was the first to see bullets hit his grandmother. He had sought help from an Army picket before the entire village of Kaksar was evacuated. Like others, his blank eyes were reflective of a gloomy future.
As I recall those days, I wonder how might have Abuzor grown as one of those directly affected by the war.
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