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Cinema
Filming People of Paradise
by Atul Gupta
November 13, 2005
 In
my first meeting with Shafika, I was captivated by her large brown eyes.
Shafika, in her early 20s, lives in a shanty on the banks of a dirty
canal in Kashmir. Shafika is a 'half-widow' - her husband is missing,
and she is not sure whether he is dead or alive.
Half-widows are a harsh reality in Kashmir today. Their men have been
missing for years, probably kidnapped and later killed by the
terrorists; or killed by security forces in an encounter. But as their
bodies are not found, they are not declared dead.
I met Shafika while filming 'Waiting...' a documentary based on the
lives of half-widows and their children. We started filming in 2003.
 According
to media reports, violence in Jammu and Kashmir has resulted in
thousands of women becoming widows. Some of these women - over a 1,000 -
are half-widows. These women are not allowed to remarry as the Muslim
religious leaders are divided over the remarriage issue. While some
leaders claim that a woman whose husband is missing for four years can
remarry, others say she has to wait for over 50 years. As they are not
entitled to government compensation (usually given in case a person dies
in terrorist violence or cross-firing), the half-widows struggle to earn
a living on their own.
The first time I saw a half-widow was in July 2003, when a young
Kashmiri journalist and her researcher friend came to me with some
footage on the women who led such fractured lives. Looking at those
images, I noticed the strength and resolve of these women. Something
within me moved and I thought of making a film on them.
It was clear that such a film could not be sponsored by any government
agency or funding organization. There would be too many perspectives to
accommodate. For our research, we tapped the Association of Parents of
Disappeared Persons (APDP), the Rajiv Gandhi Foundation, some
historians, academics, human rights activists and accessed information
from print and electronic media.
Shafika's relationships with her own family and friends had broken down
during her persistent search for her missing husband. Her in-laws
abandoned her and her three children soon after her husband disappeared.
Unable to cope with the trauma, Shafika landed in the over-crowded ward
of the Government Psychiatry Hospital, Srinagar.
Initially, she was suspicious of me and my team - which included two
camerapersons, a reporter and a researcher - but once she was convinced
that we meant no harm, she shared her world with us. Shafika came across
as a warm-hearted woman who needed a friend, someone who she could talk
to without being judged all the time. It has been a struggle for women
like her to survive. She works part-time as a peon in a media office,
and washes clothes and utensils in some homes.
 Her
daughter, Rukaiya, just eight years old, appeared wise for her age when
I met her for the first time in 2003. She seemed capable of looking
after the small hovel that was their house. I wondered how she had
adjusted to the disappearance of her father; how she reconciled to
living in a slum after living in a lovely house; how she felt about not
having any relatives. She was playful, but did not have time for friends
as housework kept her busy. But Shafika had to send Rukaiya away to an
orphanage as she wasn't sure how safe her daughter would be while she is
away at work.
When I again met Rukaiya in an orphanage run by Yateem Trust on the
outskirts of Srinagar, she looked and behaved like an angel. She sang
songs and kept emphasising that she was happy. She said the trust
members and teachers very nice, and she needed to study hard. Yet, when
I was leaving, she softly told me to tell her mother to take her home
during Id.
For our film, we met about a dozen half-widows and their children. The
most striking thing about most has been that they all have hope, that
one day their husband/father will come back. Also, all the women appear
equally skeptical about the army and the terrorists.
In 2003, when I visited Kashmir to shoot the film, it was after a gap of
20 years. I had childhood memories of green pastures, majestic
mountains, a myriad of rivers, streams and lakes. And of course,
kind-hearted, helpful and ever-smiling people. I remembered being lost
as a small child in Srinagar during a storm and being rescued by a tall,
bearded person. He took me to his lovely warm house, where his smiling
wife gave me hot kehva, Kashmiri tea.
Since 2003, we have shot four times in Kashmir. On the highway, between
Jammu and Srinagar, the picturesque road is pockmarked every 100 yards
by pickets of grim-faced army men carrying machine-guns. Our jeep has
been stopped often, we are thoroughly searched and our bags emptied.
When we reach Srinagar, the omnipresence of bunkers is striking. People
are helpful but do not smile. And as the sun goes down, the streets are
empty except for the security patrols.
Often we were threatened and pushed around by the military; faced
hostile crowds and individuals suspicious of us. But once we gained the
trust of the people, a whole new world opened to us. People wanted to
talk, on camera, about their problems, about the hidden truths of
Kashmir. Some talked about the politics, while others shared the
violations committed by the army.
It is clear that everybody had been affected by the violence surrounding
them. Someone had lost a family member in a bomb attack or police
encounter; someone's son or husband was missing; someone has lost a limb
or had been sexually assaulted. The insurgency has hurt every home in
Jammu and Kashmir.
To most of us, this violence is presented only as cold statistics. So
many dead in a blast, so many injured in a terrorist attack. Daily news
mostly sees Jammu and Kashmir as statistics, or as politics. How often
do we hear about women like Shafika? How often do we read about the
large number of children orphaned and the growing number of women-headed
households struggling to live a life of dignity. Why does Rukaiya have
to be in an orphanage? What are the long term implications of using
armed forces within our borders? Our 36 months of filming threw up no
answers. Only helped us see Jammu and Kashmir with a different lens.
By arrangement with
Women's Feature Service
Top
| Cinema
The Week of November 13, 2005
Will
India's Government Survive November? by Rajinder Puri
India: The Prime Minister Fettered by Dr.
Subhash Kapila
Titans in Tiny Worlds by J. Ajithkumar
Was Hinduism Invented? A Review by Aruni
Mukherjee
One Night @ The Call Center A Review by G.
Swaminathan
Towards Re-Writing A History of
Indian Architecture by Ashish Nangia
Eighteenth Century India: French and English
Rivalry by Neria Harish Hebbar, MD
What are Puranas? Are They Myths? by Dr. R.K.
Lahiri, Ph.D
Seeker's Dilemma by Vikram Karve
Healthcare for Globe Trotters by Dr. Savitha Suri
Dragons Ahoy! by Nitin Jugran Bahuguna
Filling Schools in Sindh by Zofeen T. Ebrahim
Filming People of Paradise by Atul Gupta
The New Crafts Company by Deepti Priya Mehrotra
For My Daughter by Sujata Ashwarya Cheema
The Vagabond by Dhiraj Raniga
The Mystique Land by Sai Prakash
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