Parveena is a Kashmiri mother who lost her son who was arrested by the security forces after mistaking him for a militant. Since then, she has assisted fellow victims like her, and one of those who established the Association of Parents of Disappeared Persons (APDP). A paragon of courage, she mobilizes other families of the disappeared in Kashmir to fearlessly work against impunity.
My name is Parveena Ahangar. I live in Batamalo, Srinagar, Kashmir. On 18 August 1990, my son was taken away during a night raid by the military. The target of the raid was my neighbor’s house.
According to witnesses, while my “heart” was being taken away by the security forces, he was calling me saying, “Ji-Ji help me!” At the same time, he was also reciting the Kalimah.1
A neighbor of ours who is a baker then came out on his veranda when he heard the commotion and yelled at the people for being asleep while an innocent boy was being taken away.
They took him to a CAT (informer) who was standing near the mosque with an auto shop nearby. The arresting officers told him to identify my son but he replied, “He’s not involved.”
They then took away the clothes of another boy whom they had also arrested and gave it to my son who was only wearing a sweater and a piece of underwear. I was able to subsequently confirm this, for I saw his pants and shirt that were left in the house. I also found his wallet along with some money and his identity card.
Nevertheless, he was still beaten severely. When he asked for some water, the security forces then began beating another CAT for identifying the wrong person.
I was informed of my son’s arrest during the morning prayers the following day. That night, I couldn’t sleep. I felt as if something was pricking my heart as I was wondering what would happen to him.
I really thought that he would be released the next day, since he was just a student. He had just even passed his metric examination two months back and had yet to purchase some of his books. He also had a stammer in his tongue. But that didn’t happen. So, I filed a First Incident Report (FIR) at the local police station.
When people pointed out the road where he was taken away, I laid down by the roadside. To protest against my son’s arrest, I blocked that road for a full day.
I also went to the Deputy Commissioner’s (DC) office where I was given a pass and a vehicle to carry me to G.B. Panth Hospital. When I got there and showed my pass to the hospital personnel, they gave me another pass in return. However, the hospital attendants told me there was no such person in their care.
I came back after a few days, this time with my husband and sister. While we were on a road leading up a hill, we saw a person coming down on his bike which did not have any plate number. He then suddenly approached us and asked me, “Sister, what are you looking for?” I replied, “My son was taken away and they are not showing him to me.”
He again queried, “Is his name Javid Ahmed Ahanger?” I said, “Yes.”
Our driver then told me that he will speak with him personally. When the driver talked with him, he went down the hill without giving any answer.
We also approached the Sobaider (army officer) who said that there was only one boy with them who was kept inside the room. I went inside and I saw there was a young boy. His little finger was cut off presumably by torture. He was from Nawabazar.
I told the army officer, “He is not my son. I belong to the Batamallo area.” I do not know what happened to that boy.
When they gave me a third pass, I immediately photocopied it at Lal-Chowk. I suspected they might deny that they had sent me to G.B. Panth Hospital.
After photocopying it, they gave me another pass but I kept it with me under the seat, knowing that it will help me in court. That day, they again did not show me my son.
At that time, the Superintendent Police (SP) control room suggested, “Parveena, they are not showing you your son. It is now the right time to get in touch with the court.” Till then, six months had already passed and they had not shown me a glimpse of my son. I asked him if I should already go to court, and he reiterated, “Yes, file the case.”
I approached the court and fought my case. They, in turn, ordered an inquiry in my case. I got all the required witnesses—the people where my son was arrested; my neighbors who saw the arrest; and the driver of the vehicle who took me to the hospital. They looked into his logbook and he testified that, “”I took her to all these places but her son was not shown to her.”
Then, the SP control room was also summoned to appear before the court but he did not come. I plainly told the judge that I am not able to bring him there. The court ordered him to appear and fined him with Rs 1,000. He immediately appeared and stated that my son was taken away.
I approached Shafi Bhat, Siaf-ud-din Soz, Indian parliament members, Sagar and all other people. But I saw no trace of my son.
But I fought in the court then before the police began its investigation. Then, some people from Delhi came and said the culprits should be punished. But it was later told that those accused have high ranks. They submitted an affidavit in the court which decided that they could not be punished because their ranks were too high.
Then another investigation was started. A Deputy Superintendent Police (DSP) and three Station House Officers (SHO) were sent there. Two military officers were placed in their custody; but they were not able to bring one officer who was being treated for cancer in Pune Hospital.
Three of them were identified as Kattoch, Danoj and Major Gupta. After investigations done by the police, they were found to have probable guilt. Kattoch’s whereabouts were then sought.
Two SHOs and the DSP of the Shergardi police station, Mr. Qayoom, were sent to bring him; but they found him ill. They were told his illness was serious and he might die on his way if taken along. So they just recorded his statement there and returned back. On their way back, the police officers were attacked but had a narrow escape.
After their return, Danoj and Major Gupta were then booked, but they were never brought to court.
Instead, an officer named Col. Joshi appeared on their behalf before the court. He asked me, “Sister, what do you want?” I replied, “Nothing.”
He then proposed to give me Rs 10 lakh and whatever I needed, in lieu of the withdrawal of my case. But I replied, “I don’t need any money.”
The President of the Bar advised me to take Rs 10 lakh so I can use it for myself. But I said, “I cannot do it. I cannot sell my child. I will search for him as long as I am alive.”
They then sent the file for sanction. But for four (4) years, no sanction was made. Only after four long years of waiting was my case formally presented. It is now in the “open date” and a warrant had been sent to the accused. But they have not punished them!
Then we formed an association and we would gather on the roadside as a form of protest. We were able to document 63 cases. We would go to the DC office, to the different police stations, to the various army camps and to Hari Nivas.2
Later on, we sent a 15-member delegation to Delhi to lobby our case. Each of us made contributions and tried to raise money for the trip. We were able to meet prominent personalities such as Tarakunde, Tapan Bose, Kuldeep Nayar and Farida Khanam.
After our return, we continued to meet on the roadside and outside of the court gate. After a few months, we formally established our organization—the Association of Parents of Disappeared Persons (APDP).
We used to sit in the compound of the Batamaloo Shrine. Because there was no space for us, the police would usually beat us with cane-sticks. When that happens, I would assure other members not to worry since my house was nearby and we can meet there.
Slowly, people from the other villages also began to know about our activities and they began joining us. People from Handawara, Kupwara, Bandipora, Baramulla and Islamabad also slowly came and we grew bigger.
I then saw the condition of other people. I then realized that I am not the lone sufferer, for others were in far worse conditions.
Now, the status of my case is as it was. The authorities do not give justice. Nothing ever happens in the court. What else should I do after all this?
Explaining the Madness
Through much reflection, I realized that disappearances happen in Kashmir because of the on-going war situation; otherwise, why should people disappear? The Indian Army officers would take away our children and then they would disappear.
It is such an unbearable pain. If your child dies or is martyred, at least you know that he is truly dead. But in my case, the pain is incomparable since I am uncertain of my son’s real predicament—of whether he is still alive or already dead.
People like me can neither sleep at night nor relax during the day. You would just spend your time thinking about your son, wondering if he’s alive and where; if he is in jail or in the interrogation center; or whether he already went to the hills or went underground. Had he been guilty or committed a crime, or even picked up a gun, I would understand. But he did not.
I cannot bear the idea that a person would approach me and say that one of my sons is not alive. I always pray for their well-being because Allah is great. Prophet Yousuf was found after several years when he was lost in the water. Why cannot my son come back?
And even if he does not return, I cannot reconcile it with the thought that he is not alive. And even if it did happen, I would not allow such injustice to happen to others.
The ordeal, however, also gives me so much strength. In my case, I have been searching for my son for the past 15 years and yet, it seems that I have just been doing this for 10-15 days. Somehow, I feel that my search has just begun.
I must admit that my first reaction after my son’s abduction was fear coupled with traumatic shock. Now, I have shed all my fears and I go from place to place and town to town to meet other families of the disappeared. Actually, the fear is basically only damaging when you allow it, when you wallow in it. But once you fight back, fear loses its power.
For example, the Indian Army cannot do anything to me anymore because now, I can fight back. My inner courage has made me so bold that the 600,000 Indian soldiers no longer appear to me as fearsome and formidable. For me, they are mere pygmies because I am able to continue my struggle despite the harsh conditions in Kashmir.
We have this idea among us Kashmiris that our land is sacred, because if only all those who can fight will unite, then we will inevitably be successful. And in the same way, if all other organizations will join us and pull the same rope, we are sure that this mad policy will be pulled down.
My interaction with AFAD and other similar organizations also gives me encouragement, although I too would have to fight my own fight. For in the end, all of us have to struggle with our own tools and resources, though at the same time learning from the experiences and methods of other organizations. All of us must know that human rights violations must be fought in our lands. We cannot ask someone from outside to do the fighting for us. But if we have solidarity and outside support, that will give us strength. But we have to do the fighting ourselves.
In the course of our struggle, we have become psychiatrists ourselves. Most of the victims do not go to psychiatrists for treatment. When fellow victims meet, we weep and we even sing songs. That is the “treatment” we provide.
When I came to the Philippines in 2000, I saw a monument which was erected in memory of the Filipino desaparecidos. After my return to Kashmir, our organization decided to build our own monument. But when we had already laid the foundation stones for what would be that future monument, the Indian Army came and took the stones. They even filed a case against me and Atty. Parvez Imroz.
But we still would want to have a monument because that will give us some solace, since we do not have any remains of our disappeared loved ones in our keeping. APDP is pursuing this project and soon, we are going to purchase a land and within a few months, we would rebuild our monument. I also think that we should have an international monument for the disappeared so as to give solace for all the families throughout the world.
On 28 March 2004, we organized a peace march which was to culminate in a program in front of the United Nations office in Srinagar. But as we were about to march, the police broke through our lines and started beating us. We were then dragged and taken to the police station where we were detained for one day. Cases,were also filed against us.
Our experiences in Kashmir, as well as those of other families from other countries prove that we must have coordinated efforts for fighting back. Once, AFAD member-organizations made simultaneous protest actions demanding the Indian government to put an end to the practice of involuntary disappearances in Jammu and Kashmir. We should continue such efforts.
If there is a problem in other countries, other organizations must march out as part of the solidarity efforts. That gives us strength and it also tells us that throughout the world, we have friends and comrades who are with us and will fight for us. By sharing our tragedies, we can transform our sorrow into struggle and in that way, justice can be achieved.
Footnotes
1 The Kalimah is the declaration of faith in Islam.
2 The interrogation center.
