Neelofar and her mates

Chatting in the fairyland
Riyaz Masroor
The skyline, frilled with clouds, reflects in the calm, crystal-clear waters of the splendid river, as if the heavens have descended on earth. The ambience on the riverside appears even more awesome because Romana and Sabrina are ensconced in the warm squeeze of their mates, in their new everlasting world – the Paradise. Tabinda Gani of Handwara and scores others from Shopian’s Saidipora, Kupwara’s Kununposhpora and other areas are unmindfully frolicsome.
“Thank God you too are here. You are the only ones closer to my age,” Romana tells Sabrina and Tabinda Gani in a husky tone as others, elder to these teenage girls, talk fun. Sabreena and Tabinda enjoy the swing made up of flower stems, which don’t break and are more durable than the worldly carbon fiber.
Suddenly a hush wraps this jovial scene as a boll of cloud rolls itself into the premises and evokes a silent yet awed response from the God’s favorite women in Jannah. The cloud boll looks like a space ship but it doesn’t work on laws of force or motion but a Godly command.
Landing from this ‘space ship’ are Neelofar and her teenage sis-in-law, Asiya, their sparkling hazel eyes enhancing their fresh and rosy aura. Fairies sing paeans. Ahlan wa sehlan marhaba Welcome! Welcome! God be pleased with you! Romana and Sabrina warmly hug Asiya while Neelofar makes her way into the elder club of women who are pampering themselves near the gushing streams of milk, honey and rose water.
Neelofar gives a warm hug to Tabinda, tears trickling down her graceful cheeks. “My dear sister, the beasts, who outraged your modesty, have not been hanged and your family, like ours, is waiting for justice ever since those brutes molested and murdered you on 20 July 2007. How shall I tell you I and my darling Asiya went through the same ordeal at the fateful sunset of 29 May 2009. How shall I…how shall I…how…?”
Hearing her Bhabhi’s frantic sobs, Asiya rushes to the scene and attempts to mellow down the gloom Neelofar’s tears have set in. “We are God’s favorites. We faced whatever we faced. That’s not for our fault but for the fault of the hyper masculine lust. God has taken care of us by hosting us here in the paradise; God will hold the neck of those who outraged us.”
A bevy of white-winged fairies stream through the walkway; they are holding a whole range of bouquets. “I don’t like white rose,” yells the young Sabrina, “give me the yellow one.” A fairy stretches her hand out in the air and pat comes a yellow fragrant rose in her hand, bringing cheerful smile on Sabrina’s face.
Romana is told that on 23 August 2007 Sabrina had gone out to fetch something from a locality shop at Ikhrajpora in central Srinagar and vanished only to be traced dead, her body bruised confirming rape. “O My God!” Romana exclaims, trying hard to withhold her tears.
In order to mollify Sabrina, who is in preteens, Romana asks her: Ever heard of Shabnum? The little Sabrina responds with a quizzical gaze. “I will tell you,” Romana quickly resumes. “She is one of us but she survived the assault, not before the army men would molest her.” She is actually referring to the rape of Ayesha and her daughter Shabnum who were living a modest yet happy life in a two-and-half apartment in Badrapayeen, a hamlet in Kupwara district, till everything shattered in the night of 6 November 2004. Initial reports had said some Major Ramman, who TV Channels later insisted was actually Major ‘Rehman’, was found guilty and subsequently ‘suspended’ by his superiors as a mark of ‘justice’.
Romana informs Sabrina that a little known NGO, run by a Kashmiri Pandit, who has long been settled in Pune, has taken Shabnum to an Orphanage there. In the orphanage many like her spend days and nights in an alien ambience. “I had read some reports and articles in newspapers about her.”
As if talking to her own self, Romana tries to imagine how Shabnum of Kupwara’s Badra Payeen area would react if given a chance to speak. “You know what pains an outraged girl more than the fact that she was raped?” Romana tosses up the question, which she says Shabnum would have asked. An unstated remark of Shabnum starts crossing everyone’s mind: “When the rulers deny, it hurts. I think I was raped twice, first by the army major and then later by Mufti Muhammad Sayeed, then CM, who said Beti ka rape nahin hua...maa ka hum dekh rahe hain.”
Romana gives Sabrina graphic details of the incident as she had read in newspapers; how the uniformed army men had locked the door from inside and raped Shabnum in the night intervening 5 and 6 November 2004 and how the life had come to a stand still for weeks together.
“What probe? What? What? What probe?” fumes Neelofar, her eyes exuding both helplessness and anguish. “And look how the present chief minister Omar Abdullah denied a fact that was later evidenced by his own subordinate institutions.” Neelofar displays a strange sense of rebellion. “I know what happened to Major Ramman, who rapped the mother and the daughter in front of each other…an army court later acquitted him of the charges of rapping.”
Neelofar argues that it is not just the unbridled hyper masculine lust but a racially motivated hatred that prompts such wild, barbaric rapes in Kashmir. “I cannot explain what exactly I went through… I was hearing the moving shrieks of my dear one Asiya…the merciless rapists smeared her head with red sindoor (The vermilion powder Hindu groom puts between the bride’s parted hair). For a moment I thought we represented the nation Kashmir and the rapists represented the state of India; it was the Hindu India raping the Muslim Kashmir…I wish whole India is not like that…I simply wish all Indian army men are not like that…I hope the Indian rulers know what it means when army of a democratic nation goes on raping spree…I just hope India doesn’t break for all these crimes…..”
Compared to others, Romana is being seen lucky for she preferred death over being outraged when the prodigal youth of a politically connected family drove their Alto car against her on 03 May 2009. “But,” Neelofar raises her voice, “we too would happily die if given a choice. The claws of power-sodden uniformed men sank into our frightened body and soul and we would wish death that didn’t come till we were murdered.”
Neelofar says that Romana set an example. “I don’t know if all the Indian soldiers are beasts like the ones who molested us. I would suggest let all the girls, whom we left behind in the world, emulate Romana in a different sense. Let them carry a poison pill with them. If, God forbid, they are caught, let them swallow the poison and embrace death and defeat the evil military man of the world’s largest democracy.”
Meanwhile fairies begin their job; hairdressing of Neelofar, Asiya, Romana, Sabrina and Tabinda with diamond-studded combs having bristles made from peacock feather. Romana whines when the comb entangles her blonde hair. “I have been through more than this…so combing won’t hurt me,” responds Tabinda recalling how her doctor brother would often advocate death sentence for a rape.
After Tabinda was gang-raped and murdered, her brother would for long cite a similar case that took place in Delhi in 1998, in which the exemplary death sentence was awarded by the session’s court, Delhi, to a 30-year-old man in Ghandi Nagar, East Delhi in 1998, for the rape and murder of an eight-year-old girl who was on her way from school.
“Come on! We would not have been together now had the culprits who outraged you (Tabinda Gani) been hanged …or awarded a lifer..! But I am sure God has his own ways of punishing the wrongdoers.” The Godly women disperse in groups and begin their routine chores in the Paradise.
riyaz.masroor@yahoo.com