Dardpora village was home to 120 widows whose lives were marked by loss and resilience on the Line of Control. THE WEEK’s story from 2013 by late senior special correspondent Tariq Bhat and former chief photographer Arvind Jain highlighted the human cost of conflict and the quiet strength of women surviving in a difficult border region. Here’s the original article.
Dardpora, when translated, means "abode of pain." That is exactly the story of this mountainous village and its 120 widows. Gul Jan, 50, lost her husband, Abdul Peer Khan, when she was 30 and has since braved life's challenges alone, raising her adopted son, Shabir Khan, by herself. After Peer was killed, Shabir had to quit school. "I could not afford his education," Jan said. Her neighbour, Rafiq Khan, said Jan had become so insecure that she would cling to her son and cry all day. The villagers helped her resume normal life. The mother and son worked as domestic help and in fields to sustain themselves.
"The villagers sometimes helped with food, but at times I had to beg," Jan said. "I still remember the day the police came with Peer's photograph and told me he was killed in an encounter at Kralgund, Handwara, in Kupwara." Jan went to fetch the body, but the police had already buried it. She received some help from her brother-in-law, but he was killed by militants for being a mukhbir – an informer. Today, Jan's only support is Shabir, who works as a labourer. Shabir's two-year-old son keeps her busy through the day. Jan speaks bitterly of politicians and separatists alike. "Nobody from the government or the Hurriyat Conference has visited us in these 21 years," she said. "How we have survived, only Allah knows."
Further up on the mountain lives another widow, Zaitoon Begum, 51. Looking worn out and tired, she talks in whispers. Her husband, Muhammad Dilwar Khoja, was killed by militants when he was only 22. "They killed him because he had surrendered to the security forces," said Begum. "He wanted a normal life as he was constantly being trailed by the Army." After Khoja surrendered, he was attacked several times by militants. Finally, one day, he was shot dead at Kralpora, where he was working in a hotel.
"I don't want to talk any further," she said to her neighbour, Maqbool, who had persuaded her to talk to THE WEEK. "Take me home," she told Maqbool's daughter. Before leaving, she reluctantly agreed to be photographed. Sitting next to Begum was her namesake, Bibi Zaitoon, 52. Her husband, Bashir Ahmed Bhat, left her and their three children (a boy and two girls) to romance the gun. On his return from Pakistan, he started working in a hotel at Rajbagh in Srinagar. One day, his photograph appeared in a local daily as a dead militant.
"We later learnt he was abducted from the hotel and killed," said Zaitoon. She refused to remarry and dedicated her life to her children. The elder daughter and son are now married. "They were too young when their father was killed," she said. "I used to work in fields and in other people's homes to bring them up. At times, I felt so distressed I thought of running away, but my children pulled me back."
Then there is Parveena Bano, a college student, whose widowed mother refused to talk about her husband. Her family lives in a four-room mud house and has no male member alive. Bano has faint memories of her father. He was shot dead by the Army after he ventured out one day. "Even today, we fear the Army," she says.
Dardpora's misfortune lies largely in its location. It is 120 km north of Srinagar, perilously close to the Line of Control (LoC). Before militancy, the LoC was thinly guarded on both sides, and residents of villages like Dardpora used to cross the border for trade and to meet relatives.
Most of Dardpora's men, many married, fell to the charm of the gun and became militants. That is when the people, especially women, began to understand the significance of the name of their village. The Army mounted vigil and began looking for the missing men of the village. Presence of troops was increased, and several posts were set up in the village, perched on the mountain slope with no roads.
The village consists largely of wooden houses with mud flooring and a few houses made with brick and cement. Most of them stand on maize and vegetable fields. A narrow network of dusty tracks connects Dardpora with neighbouring villages. A gushing stream descending the mountains runs through the village. In winter, most of the narrow tracks are closed because of heavy snow. The villagers refused to talk about the past but were hopeful of a better future. They are now sending their children to school. As village elder Juma Khan said, "Lack of education caused all the mayhem in our village. We were consumed by emotive slogans." Not anymore.
