J&K Floods: Valley of darkness
This is Razia, 32, with her five-year-old son, Zunaid.
This is their house. And this is their address:Driver’s Cabin, Truck No JK 02M 8355, somewhere on Lasjan Road, Summerbugh, near Srinagar.
Their truck has been stationed here since September 7 when the worst flood in Srinagar’s living memory took away their home of decades. Their old home now lies somewhere in this watery grave along with 250 others of what used to be Summerbugh Colony.
Razia’s family of five got preferential allotment because her husband happens to drive the truck for a living. Three other families have been squeezed into the open rear carriage of the truck. A thin plastic sheet tied to wooden props provides an illusion of a safety of a roof. (Something like this: the truck-house on the left).
A peep into their living quarters can be misleading at first; what seems like a lot of space is actually emptiness. A sign that when the waters came gushing, this is all that the three families could manage to salvage. The truth hits you straight and strong: They’ve nothing of their own, other than their lives… even the truck belongs to somebody else.
This story multiplied a hundred times over is the story of Summerbugh: Truck-homes lining up the narrow road to the once-thriving settlement of sand brick-makers. And Summerbugh multiplied a thousand times over is the disaster called the J&K floods, of which Srinagar bore the brunt. A month after, Srinagar is a non-story. It has disappeared from prime time and front pages.
The city is wounded, its people left to themselves and their meagre means - along with that of many NGOs - to claw their way back to life. Lal Chowk, the central business district is still down, Dal Lake which should have been full of shikaras and houseboats is quiet and vacant, but schools and shops are beginning to open and Srinagar, to use a cliché, is bouncing back to normalcy. But under the veneer of apparent normalcy is a very real problem.
One of the keys to Srinagar's ability to deal with adversity is that even through its most tumultuous times, it has never had to face homelessness and hunger. Ever.
Every family has had a roof over its head. And because of a very severe winter and a recent history of frequent and prolonged security lockdowns, even the poorest of poor families stock food grains to see them through a few months of adversity. But now, thousands of homes are gone — thousands of homes have become dangerous to live in as their foundations have weakened after being submerged in water - and all the city's food stocks have been washed away. For the first time ever, thousands in Srinagar don't have a roof over their heads and, again for the first time, they don't know where their next meal will come from.
Srinagar has lost something more basic than material possession - its pride. There’s a desperate situation and there are signs that they are seeking desperate solutions, our firsthand experience told us. Breezing past the Dal Lake road to a medical relief camp in the vicinity, our car screeched to a halt near DujiMohalla. Its residents had blocked the road and in no time vehicles lined up on either side caused a big jam. Passengers and protestors got into a heated argument that quickly degenerated into a scuffle, though, thankfully, nobody got seriously injured. In the melee we got to know that DujiMohalla, a colony of 42 families, had been starving for four days and help had not reached them.
Fortunately, food relief packs had just started reaching #MissionRahat and a call to headquarters confirmed that we could help provide for DujiMohalla’s hungry hundreds. Roor Ahmad, the Mohalla president, agreed to lift the blockade pending distribution of aid. What could have been a nasty law and order situation was averted by our mere offer to help.
That night, when we were saying our goodbyes to DujiMohalla after distributing food packages, Roor came up to us and sheepishly explained: “We were forced to go onto the streets. We have never done this in our life. Our children were hungry… What else could we do?”
Since that day incidents of road blockades and protests are common sight, suggesting there's a helpless anger across the city. This is articulated by Tabassum, 12, living in a truck in Summerbugh: “We have lost everything uncle. Hum kaise jeeyenge?” Young or old, rich or poor, affected or spared, whether they say it or don't, Tabassum’s words ring everywhere: “How will we live, how will J&K ever recover to be the Paradise on Earth…How…How…How?”
Tabassum may have asked a rhetorical question. She may not even expect an answer. But our conscience will. Just blow up the image above and look into young Tabassum’s eyes.