Here is What Happened in Hashimpura 28 Years Ago

By Vibhuti Narain Rai,

There are some experiences that stick with you throughout your life. They always stay with you like a nightmare and sometimes are like debts on your shoulders. The experience at Hashimpura Massacre was such an experience for me, says Vibhuti Narayan Rai, then Superintendent of Police, Ghaziabad, UP. On 22 May 1987, in Hashimpura, a locality in the Meerut City, 42 innocent Muslims were killed in cold blood by the personnel of Provincial Armed Constabulary (PAC).

On the night of May 22, 1987, about 45 Muslim men from Hashimpura, a settlement in Meerut, were rounded up and packed into the rear of a truck of the Provincial Armed Constabulary (PAC). (Source: Praveen Jain/Indian Express)

The night of 22-23 May 1987, which I spent in the wild undergrowth along the stream flowing through the Makanpur village situated on the Delhi Ghaziabad border looking for any living souls amidst the dead bodies covered with blood in the dim light of my torch- everything is engraved in my memory like a horror movie. I had returned to Ghaziabad from Hapur at around 10 30 pm. District Magistrate, Nasim Zaidi was with me. So, I dropped him at his house before reaching the residence of the police officer. The moment the headlight of my car fell on the gates of the residence I saw an estranged and shocked Sub Inspector B. B. Singh who was the in charge of the Link road police station at that time.I could tell from my experience that something serious had happened in that area.I instructed my driver to stop the car and go off. B.B.Singh was so horrified that it did not seem possible for him to explain things coherently. Whatever he could convey while stammering about events in a disorderly manner was enough to shock me. I understood that somewhere in his station area the P. A.C. had killed some Muslims.

Why?? How many?? From where?? It was not clear. After asking him to repeat his facts again and again I tried making a narrative of the events piece by piece. According to the picture so drawn B.B. Singh was sitting in his office when around 9′ o clock he heard firing from the direction of Makanpur. He and everybody else at the station thought that there was robbery in progress in the village. Today Makanpur’s name can only be found in the revenue records. Makanpur today has tall magnificent buildings but in 1987 it was all barren land. Through this barren land ran a check road on which B.B. Singh raced his motorcycle towards the village. Behind him sat the station officer and a constable. They had barely covered a 100 yards on the check road when they saw a truck racing towards them from the opposite direction. If they had not ridden the motorcycle off the check road the truck would have ran them over.

According to them what they saw while trying to maintain their balance the truck was yellow in color and had 41 printed on the back. They even saw people in khaki clothes sitting in the back seats. It was not difficult for a police officer to understand that this was a truck belonging to the 41st battalion of the P.A.C. crossing them with some officers of the P.A.C.; but this made the situation more complicated. Why would a P.A.C. truck be coming from Makanpur at this hour?? What was the mystery behind the firing?? B.B. Singh got the motorcycle on the check road and again proceeded towards the village. The scene that he and his officers saw not more than a mile down the road gave them all goose bumps. Before the habitation of the village the check road crosses a stream. The stream goes ahead and enters into the Delhi border. There was a bridge where the check road crossed the stream.

As he reached the bridge and the headlights of B.B. Singh’s motorcycle fell on the undergrowth along the stream; he understood the mystery behind the firing. There were blood stains all over the place. Along the stream, in the undergrowth and in the water there were bodies with fresh wounds in them. B.B. Singh and his men tried to inspect the scene and to guess what happened there. All they could decipher was that there must be a relation between the bodies there and the P.A.C truck they came across on the way. Leaving the constable at the scene B.B. Singh with his fellow officer turned back to the main road. The headquarters of the 41st battalion of the P.A.C. was situated on the Delhi Ghaziabad Marg near the police station. They both headed for the headquarters.

The main gate was closed. Even after arguing for a long time the sentry did not give them the permission to go inside. B.B. Singh then decided to come to the zonal headquarters and tell me about the events.

From what I could understand from the narration it was clear that some event had occurred, the event was horrifying and that Ghaziabad could be in flames the next day. Since the past many weeks the neighboring district of Meerut was facing communal riots and these riots were moving towards Ghaziabad as well.

I first called the district magistrate Nasim Zaidi. He was about to sleep. After that I called the additional S.P. at the district headquarters, a few deputy S.P.s and magistrates and told them all to get ready. In about another 45 minutes we were heading towards the Makanpur village in about 7-8 cars.

Our cars were parked a little distance away from the bridge on the stream. No one had come from the village which was situated on the other side of the stream. It seemed that terror had forced them all to go into hiding in their houses. There were some police officers from the Link road police station though. The weak beams of their torches were falling on the thick shrubs besides the stream but it was difficult to see anything in that little light. I told the drivers to turn the cars towards the stream and turn their headlights on. An area of around 100 yards width was illuminated. What I saw in that light was the nightmare I was referring to in the beginning.

The light of the headlights was not sufficient due which torches were also carried by all the men. The stains of blood had still not dried up and blood was still dripping from them. The bodies of the dead were dumped all around some were stuck in the bushes whereas some were half submerged in the water. To check if anyone was still alive among the bodies seemed more important to me than to count and remove the dead.

We were about 20 people and everybody started looking in different directions to check if anybody was still alive. We would even yell out in between hoping that somebody would answer back, trying to tell them that we were not foes but friends and the injured would be taken to a hospital. But we got no reply. Disappointed some of us sat down on the bridge. The district in charge and I decided that there was no gain in wasting any time. We had to make strategies for the next day and we decided to leave the task of removing the bodies and completing the necessary paper work. We were about to proceed towards the Link Road station when we heard the sound of a cough coming from the stream.

Everyone froze. I leapt towards the stream. Silence fell over the place again. It was clear that there was a survivor but he did not believe that the people looking for him were friends. We started yelling out again and threw light on each individual body and in the end our eyes fell on a body which was moving. Someone was hanging by both hands from a bush with half his body in the stream in such a way that it was difficult for one to tell if he was dead or alive without proper attention. Trembling with terror and believing only after a lot of reassuring that we were there not to hurt but to save, the person who was going to tell us about this horrifying event, his name was Babbudin. The bullet had just missed and went scratching him. Unconscious he fell into the shrubs and in the stampede his killers forgot to check if he was dead or alive. Holding his breath he lay half in the water and half in the bushes and in this way he managed to cheat death. He wasn’t seriously hurt and he walked from the stream to the cars. He even rested on the bridge for some time.

When I met after 21 years while I was collecting material for the book I was writing on Hashimpura, at the same place where the P.A.C. picked him up from, he remembered that I offered him a biddi after taking one from a constable. According to what Babbudin told us that when that day during the regular checking around 50 people were made to sit in the P.A.C. truck they all thought that they were being taken to a station or a jail. The truck was taken off the main road about 45 minutes from Makanpur and stopped at distance down the road. The P.A.C. leapt down from the truck and ordered them to get down from the truck.

Only half the people had hardly got off when the P.A.C. started firing on them. The people still on the truck took cover. Babbudin was one of them. He could only guess what would have happened to the people who got off. The sounds of the firing probably reached the neighboring villages as a result of which noises started coming from them. The P.A.C. people again got on the truck. The truck reversed and again sped off towards Ghaziabad. Here it came to the Makanpur stream and the P.A.C. again ordered everyone to get off.

This time the horrified prisoners refused to get off so they were pulled and dragged from the truck. The one who came out were shot and thrown in the stream and the ones who didn’t were shot on the truck and thrown off. While Babbudin was telling us the whole incident we tried to assess the location of the first crime scene. Someone suggested that the first crime scene could be the stream which flows near the Muradnagar station which is situated on the road from Meerut to Ghaziabad. I called the Muradnagar station using the wireless at the Link road station and found that we were right.

The Muradnagar station had been facing the similar problem just some time ago. Some were found dead in the stream and some were brought back alive to the station.The story after this is a narrative of a long and torturous wait in which the issues relating to the relation between the Indian state and minorities, the unprofessional attitude of the police and the sluggish pace of the frustrating judicial system may be raised.

(The writer was then Superintendent of Police, Ghaziabad.) 

Source: India Resists ( http://www.indiaresists.com/here-is-what-happened-in-hashimpura-28-years-ago/ ) dated: 21st March 2015

NOTE: A Delhi court today (21st March 2015) acquitted sixteen Uttar Pradesh police personnel (Read Killers) accused in 1987 Hashimpura massacre in which over 40 Muslim were killed.

News Source Indian Express link: http://indianexpress.com/article/india/india-others/1987-hashimpura-massacre-delhi-court-acquits-16-up-cops/

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The phone call that shattered hopes: ‘They have been martyred’

Five-year old Faizan picks up a fistful of earth and empties it into the grave of his elder brother—14-year-old Faisal Yusuf. He then moves backwards, and almost disappearing among a crowd of people, stands silent. Faisal's another younger brother, Farhan, stands near the grave, watching the funeral in a motionless state.

Both Faizan and Farhan are too young to understand the tragedy that struck the family. Without uttering a word, the two brothers glance at faces around them. Soon, the burial is completed and the duo taken back home, just opposite martyrs graveyard where their brother is laid to rest.

Faisal was one among the two boys killed in firing by Army in Chattergam, on the city outskirts, on Monday afternoon. While children of his age are usually fond of hanging out with friends and playing games, the 7th standard student, Faisal, was shaping into a religious scholar. At the tender age, he had memorized 15 chapters of the Holy Quran.

"Yes, he would occasionally lead prayers in the local mosque and had memorized 15 chapters of the Holy Quran," the soft-spoken Farhan uttered. "He was more like my friend. We would share sweets and watch cricket together."

For few minutes, Farhaan, who studies in class 5th and is wearing a traditional Pheran, keeps mum again. Then he remembers: "I would call him by the name of Burhaan. He was passionate about driving. I miss him.”

On the ill-fated Monday, Faisal had driven his father's car to Chattergam to see a Muharram procession. Three other boys from the locality including his cousin Zahid Ayoub, Shakir and Meraj-ud-Din too joined him. While Meraj also succumbed to the bullet injuries, Zahid and Shakir are undergoing treatment at the Army hospital here.

Minutes before he left the house on Monday afternoon, only to be brought dead, he along with his father, Muhammad Yusuf Bhat—a businessman—were arranging furnishing and curtains of a room on the first floor of their house, said Faisal’s maternal uncle, Mushtaq Ahmad. The family was preparing for a function on coming Sunday. “Faisal baya was to return to the school (Dar-ul-Uloom) on Monday,” responded Faizaan when asked him about his association with his brother. "No, we have never fought. Instead we would play cricket together, but he would always bat first. He would bat for longer time and then my turn would come. He would also share lays (snacks) with me.”

MERAJ, THE GENTLEST BOY

Neighbors remember Meraj-ud-Din as a gentlest boy in the locality and his colleagues described him as a friend of few words. A laborer by profession, Meraj had just stepped in his youthful days.

On the ill-fated Monday, Meraj of Bonpur, Nowgam finished his work early. He straightaway returned home and after taking lunch, went out. Hours later, at around 5 pm, his brother, Latief Ahmad rushed back home to inform his father, Ghulam Muhammad—an employee in the PHE department—that four youth, all from Nowgam, travelling in a Maruti car, were fired upon by army at Chattergam Chowk.

“He (Meraj) would never go anywhere and would always remain busy with his work,” his father says in a broken voice. “And I was sure he will be around.”

But minutes later, the father compelled Latief to call Meraj on his mobile phone to confirm about his whereabouts. “There was no response,” said Ghulam Muhammad, least knowing that his son and another local boy Faisal had already fallen to the Army bullets.

Next moment, the search for the son took the father out on the main road where he saw groups of youth discussing killings in Chattergam. “Every person in this area will vouch for his innocence. I assured myself that he (Meraj) will be safe,” he said.

But a group of young boys who were discussing that newspapers have reported (online) that one of the killed youth was Meraj increased his restlessness. He was not ready to accept the bitter truth. “I again called on his (Meraj’s) mobile,” he said. “This time a man, speaking in Urdu, asked for my identity. I told him I am Meraj’s father. He told me Meraj has been hospitalized and then the line got disconnected.”

For next few minutes, the helpless father repeatedly called on his son’s mobile but there was no response. Next time, he said, the mobile had been put on switch-off mode.

Caught between hope and despair, the scary thoughts caught hold of the father. At that moment one of his relatives informed him that they were going to see Meraj. “He said Meraj and other boys are injured and have been rushed to army hospital for treatment,” said Ghulam Muhammad.

For next half-an-hour the father kept hoping that his son would be safe. But, minutes later, a phone call shattered all his hopes. “Meraj and another boy have been martyred, they told me on phone,” he said, covering his face in his hands while silence drapes the room.

Few minutes later, this silence is broken by wailing mother and two sisters of Meraj, in another room. “Oh dear please come, we all are waiting for you,” Meraj’s mother wailed aloud.

Outside, young boys seethe in anger. “Look, how mercilessly they have killed them,” a burly youth displayed the photographs of blood-drenched bodies of the two boys on his mobile. “Can’t they have fired bullets at the tyres of the vehicle? The aim was to kill,” he said.

By Muddasir Ali

First published on GK on 04-11-2014

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Boy who cheated death: An eyewitness account of Chattergam killiings

On November 3 morning, Faisal Yousuf met his friend, Zahid, at some distance from their homes in Nowgam locality on the outskirts of Srinagar. The two exchanged customary greetings and were soon joined by other friends. As the conversation warmed up, Faisal made jokes of Zahid's driving skills. Everybody, including Zahid, laughed theirs hearts out. 

"You know he once bumped his car into a girl on highway and he dares to call himself a driver," Faisal told Zahid.

"My family doesn't let me drive for this reason only," Zahid responded with a smile, to which Faisal added, "How shall they," sparking another spell of laughter. After cracking jokes, they shared their plans for the day. The conversation ended and everybody left for their homes.

In the afternoon of the fateful day, Shakir called his friend, Mehraj-ud-Din, and asked to join him on a drive. Mehraj was returning home from work. Shakir was accompanied by Zahid and they decided to wait for him till he had his meals. To kill time, they hopped into Zahid's Alto car and turned on the music. Mehraj soon joined them. 

As they embarked on the trip, Mehraj saw his best friends, Showkat and Ehsaan, and insisted them to join in, but they refused and instead went to Lal Chowk for shopping. The trio - Shakir, Zahid and Mehraj - were about to hit the road when Zahid got a call from Faisal. He wanted to join them too. Faisal was calling from a nearby playfield and asked them to receive him there. 

Shakir, Faisal, Zahid and Mehraj, the four teenage boys who were travelling in the car that met a tragic fate on Monday evening in Chattergam, live in the same locality since childhood. They know each other inside out. What they didn't know was the fate that was awaiting them in coming hours.

After meeting Faisal, all of them agreed not to take Zahid's car. Knowing his poor driving skills, Zahid's parents would regularly call him to return home whenever he was out on a drive. To avoid regular interruptions, they decided to take along a Maruti 800 car that belonged to Faisal's father. 

It was around 4:30 pm and the day was about to end.

Faisal got the keys of his father's car from home while his friends waited outside the gate of a local graveyard, where two of them - Faisal and Mehraj - will be buried, later, in a single grave. 

Basim Amin, the fifth boy who escaped unscathed in the shooting, is thinly built with fair complexion. He likes to rear pigeons and was, as always, looking for the birds in the sky. He was on his usual stroll on the highway in Nowgam when a honking car stopped near him. Inside the car were Faisal, Mehraj, Zahid and Shakir. Faisal who was driving the car offered Basim a drive to Suthsoo, a locality some four kilometre away from their location.

Basim agreed and joined the party. As a special gesture, Faisal offered Basim the seat beside him in the front.

Faisal sped up his car. On way to Suthsoo, they listened to music and gossiped. Faisal again teased Zahid for his driving skills. Nobody stopped them for frisking.

On their return, in Chattergam, uniformed men in twos and threes were stopping vehicles for checking. It was later known that they were troopers of Indian Army's 53 RR unit. A tipper was plying ahead of their car near a checkpoint when Army men waived at the driver to stop.

Faisal's car was behind the tipper and he decided to overtake. But his car brushed against the tipper. Another group of Army men standing few metres ahead waived at Faisal to stop. Already nervous, he applied handbrake but the car skidded off the road. 

The screeching tyres caught attention of the Army men who, without any provocation, pulled the trigger and fired the first shot which hit Faisal's arm. He lost control of car and rammed into an electric pole on the roadside.

All of a sudden, a volley of bullets pierced through the doors and windows. Nobody cried. There were no pleas, no justifications. The only sound they could hear was of their breathing and bullets.

When firing stopped, Faisal and Mehraj were dead in a pool of blood with bullets bored into their bodies. Shakir and Zahid were unconscious and bleeding. On the seat besides Faisal was Basim; stunned, motionless, pale but unscathed. A green-eyed boy known for his wittiness among his relatives and neighbours, he slowly pulled down the glass and got out of the car through the window. 

He rolled his body over the road four to five times and dropped into the low-lying paddy fields. With their guns pointed at the car, the Army men began retreating, perhaps out of fear of the boy coming out of the window. Seeing no response, the Army men fired several shots at him. Luckily, Basim escaped from the mouth of death. In real terms, he had cheated death.

Basim tried to run through the fields but he had no energy left in his body. Nevertheless, he managed to reach a house at the end of paddy fields where he drank a glass of water. His thoughts were with his friends. After about 30 minutes, he came to see if his friends are still there. But he could only see a large crowd of people at the spot. It soon dawned on him that the world he knows would no more be same to him. 

After a night of mourning, he joined the funeral prayers of Faisal and Mehraj next morning.

By Rouf Bhat

First published on authintmail.com 05-11-2014

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The Day Srinagar Sank

The deluge

THE deluge came from nowhere. It rained and rained for days on end. Instantly, on Sept 4, 2014, Jhelum, the benevolent, beautiful river that slices through the heart of Srinagar, started to swell. Like a ferocious beast expecting an agonising delivery. It burst open all of a sudden. As evening began to fall, the streets of the city were filled with water.

By nightfall the river snaked its way into people’s drawing rooms and kitchens. Terrified, people scrambled to their first floors, trying to make contact with their friends and relatives. It was of no use. Communication systems were all dead. Every house was a separate island, marooned. The inhabitants had nowhere to go.

Fear built up fast. Hearts sank. The sick needed medicines kept in cupboards on the ground floor, which was now completely inundated. Babies required instant food, kept away in the fridge that now swam in the compound. No one had time to retrieve anything.

If desperation had an address during those dreadful nights of Sept 6 and 7, it was Srinagar. From the upscale neighborhoods of Rajbagh, Hyderpora, Jawahar Nagar, Shiv Pora and Gogji Bagh to the working class localities of Abi Guzar, Goni Khan, HS High Street, Bemina, Qamarwari, Barzulla, and so on, the entire city was battered badly — by an entity that has forever nurtured it: Jhelum.

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The story ceased to be about the victims, or the breakdown of official machinery. Instead, it became a stream of sickening eulogy to the army.

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That evening tide was different. An eerie silence hung in the city. No one could sleep. There was no call to prayer in the mosque. Familiar landmarks were gone, erased by rising waters. The rich and the less privileged were equally passed up.

News reports suggested that the chief minister, the highest elected executive of the state, was rudderless, unsure of what to do. Geelani Sahib, his bête noire and the main pro-freedom leader, paced around at home, unhelpfully looking out at the lashing rains. Everyone was trapped. Used to many political and bloody tempests, Srinagar was now witnessing the biggest upheaval in ages.

Each hour brought in more water. Like the tale of Noah, someone unlocked the fountains of the great deep and floodgates from hell. By dawn, water was filling into the top floors. Panic-stricken people made a last frenetic flight to their attics and rooftops.

Howls now filled the autumnal air. There was no government, no military, no Armed Forces Special Powers Act, no checkpoints, no VIPs or VVIPs. Badami Bagh cantonment, the biggest garrison of the Indian army in Kashmir was under water. For a while the oppressed and the oppressor were both immersed. There indeed was an azadi of sorts. Only there were no witnesses to it.

The despair

When the lights went out and mobile phones died, people shouted from the top of their voices, from attics and balconies so that neighbours could hear them. There was much squawking and bellowing across the city as if it were a mediaeval dwelling where people lived on atolls. With nothing else to hold on to, natural survival instincts kicked in and there appeared to be a reassurance in the frenetic hollering, suggesting that we are still alive.

Those who had access to battery-operated transistor sets (which still operated) listened keenly to the last source of comfort, anticipating some help, any news that would come their way. Soon Radio Kashmir Srinagar, that iconic broadcaster, which won’t even shut during wartime, suspended its transmissions. Water had filled its centres. The only flicker of hope was gone. The beloved Radio Kashmir was off-air.

The deception

As soon as the gravity of the situation dawned upon them, the central government and New Delhi-based TV channels realised the political nature of this tragedy and marched on to Srinagar to write a new narrative.

Here was a conflict and a calamity: All at once. The electronic media wasted no time to build a tempo around the unfolding situation in Kashmir, complete with a Bollywood-style promo. Shortly thereafter the TV channels began a huge PR exercise for the army, which had by now started its rescue and evacuation operations.

In an ironic twist, the story ceased to be about the victims, or the breakdown of official machinery — questions that journalists should ideally ask. Instead, it became a stream of sickening eulogy to the army. Every single channel airlifted its so-called ‘celebrity journalists’ to Srinagar. This included well-known broadcasters like NDTV whose anchor Barkha Dutt, more or less appeared on a mission to outdo the high-octane Arnab Goswami of Times Now with her rather tasteless commentary.

So whilst heroic local volunteers and rescuers swirled and struggled around in makeshift catamarans, canoes and whatever they could lay their hands on, to find survivors, chopper journalists continued to take joyrides. They thrust microphones down the throats of those rescued after a four-day ordeal, hungry and haggard, asking if they feel gratified to be winched up.

“Do you want to thank the Indian army?” one female reporter asked an old man as soon as he was pulled up on a helicopter. No, you were not allowed to catch your breath. The electronic media corps demanded an answer first.

It never occurred to any embedded journalist that it is the army’s duty to respond to national emergencies and come to the rescue of local population. The tragedy was not that there were fewer boats on ground; the tragedy was that journalists and camerapersons with equipment got a place on army’s rubber boats when residents were crying to be saved from rooftops.

To film helplessness as part of a PR exercise or a spike in TRPs is an obscene reflection of the state of Indian media.

The dénouement

Perhaps all things beautiful have a hex cast upon them. May be there really is a price to be paid for exquisiteness.

There was no Noah’s ark when the floods came.

The writer (Sameer Bhat) is editor at Khaleej Times

First Published in Dawn, September 20th , 2014

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Hyderpora Jamia Masjid became first home For newborn Kiran

Expecting Gujarati lady Neeta arrived at Jamia Masjid in critical condition, got home-like treatment; Relief Committee paid hospital expenses, arranged air tickets for family

On September 12, when Srinagar was under flood, an expecting mother from Gujarat found home in a local mosque at Hyderpora on Srinagar outskirts to give birth to a baby daughter.

Kiran (ray of hope), the newborn, was christened in the mosque by locals after the family from Gujarat, the home state of Prime Minister Narendra Modi, insisted that their “saviors” should name their baby.

Neeta wife of Kishore from Gujarat was brought to Jamia Masjid Hyderpora, in a critical condition by rescuers from Bemina, one of the worst hit areas by the devastating flood, which killed around 280 people across J&K.

Besides, her husband, Neeta was accompanied by her mother-in-law and two other members of the family.

“Fear was writ on their face and they were desperate to get some safe place,” said Ghulam Hassan Dar, executive member, relief committee, Hyderpora.

Under trauma, the Gujarat family found comfort in the mosque after they were provided accommodation in the first floor of the religious place. After being served tea and dinner, Kishore, hesitantly, broke news to the relief committee members that his wife’s delivery date was on September 12, the day when the flood had already created devastation in entire Srinagar, leaving thousands homeless.

The committee members who were already under stress to provide food and shelter to thousands of displaced survivors including outsiders didn’t waste time.

“We immediately rushed her (Neeta) to the nearby nursing home to ensure proper medical treatment for her,” said Bashir Ahmad Paul, another member of the relief committee. At the same time the committee communicated to the hospital authorities that it would bear all charges for the medical treatment of Neeta.

At the hospital the doctors, after attending to Neeta, advised her husband to bring her next day (September 13). Neeta was taken back to the Masjid and provided care under the guidance of local females.

“We kept a vehicle ready to ferry the expecting lady to the hospital for check up during night,” said Paul. The vehicle was owned by Dar’s son Touseef Ahmad.

On September 13, Neeta after night stay at the Masjid was again admitted in the hospital where she gave birth to a baby.

“Fortunately, it was a normal delivery,” said Ghulam Hassan Dar. “Kishore rushed to the mosque to inform the relief committee that her wife has delivered a baby daughter and he thanked us all for help. He got so emotional that tears were rolling down his eyes.”

In the trying times, the relief committee did everything possible to ensure the family has home like comfort at the mosque.

“One of our volunteers travelled a long distance to get pure milk and a pack of tea and later we served tea to Neeta after she asked for it,” said Dar.

Later, in the evening of September 13 when Neeta was shifted back to the Hyderpora mosque after being discharged from the hospital, the members of the Gujarat family insisted that locals should christen their new born.

That is when a member of the relief committee came up with the name Kiran. “Kiran means ray of hope and we had a hope even when the devastating floods ravaged the entire city,” he said.

After seeing the kind of treatment they received at the mosque and that too in times of crisis, the mother in law of Neeta was all thankful to the organizers, said another member of the relief committee.

“She was really humbled and prayed for all of us when we arranged milk feeder for the new born,” said chairman of the relief committee, Nazir Ahmad Dar.

After staying at the Hyderpora mosque for two nights, the Gujarat family left for their home-state on September 15. They were dropped at the airport in a vehicle, arranged by the relief committee.

Dar said the committee also managed the air tickets for the family.  “All these days have been testing times for all of us and we thought it is our duty to help the family,” said Dar.

Two other expecting mothers were also taken care of by the organizers at the mosque, the shelter home. “They were from Srinagar,” said Dar.

The relief camp is serving the displaced people, who were putting up in the mosque, for more than 10 days now. “We had more than 1500 people from outside,” said Ghulam Hassan Dar. The first floor of the mosque was kept reserved for females while as the men would stay in the 2nd floor.

“Everyday hundreds of people would be served tea, lunch and dinner,” said Dar.

The flood described as the worst by Chief Minister Omar Abdullah, first inundated south Kashmir and later hit Srinagar on September 7.

It resulted from continuous rainfall for more than a week during first week of September resulting in massive water discharge in river Jhelum which originates from south Kashmir and after snaking through Srinagar and Baramulla enters Pakistan administered Kashmir.

The natural calamity has caused massive destruction in entire Kashmir and the damage has been put at one lakh crore (one trillion) by a civil society formation here.

First published on Greater Kashmir on 19th Sep 2014

By Mudassir Ali

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