For over a fortnight, Barood Post had been peaceful. It was the last military outpost on the Indian side of the Tarkundi mountain range in Rajouri district of Jammu and Kashmir, and soldiers on either side were keeping a quiet vigil.
But the midnight calm was shattered on February 4 when the Pakistani Army fired a laser-guided, anti-tank missile. Barood Post caved in, taking with it a team of four soldiers, headed by 22-year-old Captain Kapil Kundu. They had all been inside the post at the time of the shelling. Three personnel were killed immediately, while the fourth succumbed later in hospital.
The Indian Army’s twin posts, the ‘Barood Post’ and the ‘Cheer Post’, are well hidden under natural foliage on a slope with a dense tree line. From their perch, the soldiers could look straight into the Pakistani army posts manning a village in Pakistan Occupied Kashmir (PoK).
‘Barood Post’ was also near the revered mazaar ( shrine) of Pir Allah Dittashah Tarkundi. No one knows much about the saint except that his grave is reportedly over 200 years old. No liquor is consumed around the shrine as a mark of respect. The shrine survived unscathed in the shelling. “That blood was spilt here is not a good sign,” said Khursheeda Jan, 47, who lost her house in the shelling.
Located just behind the Army fence, the holy site is out of bounds for now. Earlier, the Army would open the drop gates of the fence on Thursdays to allow devotees into the mazaar . But following the attack, even the road leading up to Tarkundi’s last village is closed to civilians and journalists.
Vicious cycle
The locals live in dread of the next round of shelling. Four Pakistani soldiers were killed in PoK’s Jandrot Sector on January 14. Since then, Pakistani troops had maintained “a dangerous silence”, as a local police officer put it. “We were expecting a backlash,” he added.
The casualties inflicted on the Pakistani Army in the Jandrot Sector in PoK were again the result of casualties suffered by the Indian side on December 23, 2017, in Rajouri’s Keri Sector.
It’s an endless cycle of retaliatory violence that the locals have now grown all too familiar with.
Bunkers not pandals
February is normally a time of celebration in Rajouri. The wedding season kicks off in December and lasts till March. The period is considered auspicious. But this time, wedding plans have been put off in 10 villages in the line of fire. All talk of weddings has given way to demands for concrete bunkers and bullet-proof ambulances.
The death of six civilians and devastation of 66 houses between May 2017 and January 2018 has forced locals to demand a “permanent solution” to Pakistani shelling.
In response, the administration has set up concrete bunkers for individual families. Each shelter measures 80 sq.ft. and can accommodate eight persons. So far, 72 such bunkers have been constructed in the border areas and more are being planned. Community bunkers — measuring 800 sq feet — are also being constructed to accommodate around 40 people. The bunkers are expected to withstand the 120 mm shells fired from across the border.
Ms. Khursheeda and her husband Abdul Rehman, 55, had gone to attend a wedding in the Rajdhani area of Rajouri when Pakistani troops rained 63 mortar shells on their village. Rehman left the wedding midway to rescue their three children from their home. He had barely escaped with them to a nearby concrete shelter when he saw his bedroom collapse in a heap of dust and smoke.
“One mortar shell hit the bedroom’s ceiling. Thanks to Allah, we could rescue our children,” Ms. Khursheeda said.
Forced migration
All 392 houses of Khamba village in Nowshera tehsil of Rajouri, spread over 3,671.4 hectares and home to 1,754 people, are vulnerable to shelling from across the border. On February 7, the wedding of Indu Lal’s son saw only 25 baratis (guests) heading to the bride’s place.
“From 2003 till 2014, when it was mostly peaceful between India and Pakistan, the weddings would attract not less than 250 guests. Those days are gone now,” recalled Jeet Kumar, a resident.
Mr. Kumar vividly remembers the shelling of May 14, 2017, which triggered a major wave of migration from Nowshera’s villages of Khamba, Sarya, Bhawani, Manpur, and Dhanka.
Unlike the Kumars, Muhammad Bashir’s family from Jhanjar village decided to stay back but paid a heavy price. Mr. Bashir lost his uncle Haji Tufail Ahmad and 14-year-old niece Asiya Jan in the mortar fire.
The farmer had decided to shift from Surankote in volatile Poonch to Jhanjar in 2005 as the ceasefire agreement — signed between India and Pakistan in 2003 — was still holding good. “There were no reports of hostility in 2005. I decided to purchase 30 kannals (3.75 acres) of land for farming here. I could hardly imagine a day when I would end up losing my family members for my crop,” Mr. Bashir said.
Lost harvest
The 2003 ceasefire agreement had led to an expansion of areas under maize and wheat cultivation in Nowshera’s border areas, stretching even beyond the fences.
But the escalating cycle of violence has hit farming hard, says Deputy Commissioner of Rajouri, Shahid Iqbal Choudhary. He cites stark figures: “6,000 border farmers in Nowshera sought insurance for the rabi crop under the Pradhan Mantri Fasal Bima Yojana in the first quarter of 2017. However, for kharif, none came looking for insurance as no cultivation was carried out due to the shelling, which started in May and continued till December.” Farmers cannot claim any compensation for loss due to border skirmishes as the insurance policy covers only natural calamities.
Determined pupils
In July last year, 250 students and 15 teachers were trapped for six hours in three schools due to shelling by Pakistan. “We had to get bullet-proof vehicles from Jammu and Reasi to evacuate them,” Mr. Chaudhary said. “We require bullet-proof ambulances now,” he added.
This year, schools have already been shut twice due to shelling. “I wish I could send my three children to other schools,” said Azad Hussian, a resident of Manjakote.
Seventy kilometres from Rajouri in Jammu’s Poonch district, living “next to the enemy” was never as challenging as it has been since August 2017. However, the higher the stakes, the more determined are the girls of the Model Higher Secondary School in Sheeshmahal, refusing to be cowed down by the unpredictable cross-border aggression.
Their trek to school from homes near the Line of Control can stretches between one and five kms . Over the years, going up the winding, elevated road to their school next to the Deputy Commissioner’s office has, they say, “become a habit as important as ignoring the sounds from the other side.”
“We walk to school even when it snows or rains. When there is firing or shelling we ignore the sound just like we ignore the snow and the rain,” said Sahibat Tabassum, a student of Class IX from Gulpur village.
“That (firing) is their job; our job is to study. It doesn’t bother us. We will do what we are supposed to do. This is an important time for us because we are appearing for the board exams this year. If there is too much firing from them, we take a break from our books, not from our life,” added Sahima Sadeeq, also from Gulpur and a Class X student.
Plea for quota
Sahima’s classmate Virasat Malik, however, admits that the unpredictability of the firing is a distraction. “We want to do well so we can study in good colleges in Delhi or other cities but admission is very difficult. There should be a quota for students like us from areas so close to the border,” she said.
Sabir Bitta, who teaches in the school, echoes Virasat. “It is very different here. It is not to say that students in other parts of the country have it easy but the efforts our girls make just to be regular at school is a huge challenge; it is something that others of their age cannot even imagine,” he said.
Other residents such as Swarn Singh, who retired from the Army and is now the sarpanch (headman) of the Shahbad Taukanwali village along the international border in RS Pura, also call for special consideration for children from the border areas.
“We need a quota in education for our children, and either peace or some land to shift away from here. It started with artillery fire, then mortar shells and now, sometimes, even missiles. When will this end?” he asks.
Meanwhile, Ms Khursheeda waits for another day to visit her favourite shrine. “All I want to pray for is permanent peace. I want to tie a thread of peace,” she said.
