Marrying outside the State was a Big Mistake.

A number of Kashmiri girls marrying outside the state find it hard to adopt and embrace new culture, food habits, customs etc and end up back home. Saima Bhat talks to three such girls who after struggling to cope up with their new lives flock back, bruised

In 2005, Sheeba, then 20, was married to her cousin, who was residing in Pune. It was her parents’ decision but after living a different lifestyle and trying to fit in a different culture, she feels strangulated every day. Every day was a new challenge for her.
In Kashmir, intra-cultural marriages were mostly preferred, but post 90s it changed. However, Dr Bashir Ahmad Dabla, a sociologist says, “The trend of inter-cultural and inter-caste marriages started long ago, before 90s. It started when Kashmiris went to places like Kolkata for trade and other Indian states for education. It is not only girls are getting married with Kashmiri boys but some girls are getting married outside the state as well.”

Sheeba’s father Ghulam Mohammad, a Pashmina trader started moving outside the state for his business during late 70s. But soon after, he fell in love with a Muslim Bengali girl and got married to her. The couple was blessed with a daughter and a son and they started living in old city of Srinagar.
One day, Sheeba’s maternal aunt, who was residing in Pune, sent a marriage proposal of her son Adil, an Engineering student. Sheeba was studying in 12th standard then.
Initially Sheeba’s father was reluctant but he had to surrender before his wife’s wish, who was excited about the proposal. And within no time, Sheeba and Adil were married.

Sheeba couldn’t complete her studies but Adil did his engineering and got a job. “All these years I remained busy in kitchen and forgot myself. I never complained of adjustment problems at a new place or of leaving my studies. Even after all these compromises I am not happy,” says Sheeba.
“Life is better there but I am not comfortable. I have been brought up in a conservative society and more than that I belong to 90’s generation so you can imagine how my thinking will be. It can’t be alright if my husband comes late in the night, mid-night or goes for official tours with his colleagues for a week or so. Late night parties, different social gatherings, I am not comfortable and I can’t change my thinking. Nobody understands me.”
After nine-years of marriage, Sheeba feels that nobody cares how she is sacrificing every single day of her life to make things work. “I have to search the internet to know the exact prayer timings as there are no mosque around in Pune where I lived. It has been a while since I have heard Azaan.”

Even festivals like Eid are just holidays in Pune, without any fervor or excitement. “In Kashmir, Eid is celebrated in such a fashion that you remember it for months to come,” says Sheeba.
It was only after a year of her marriage that Sheeba came back home forever, leaving everything behind. But after her mother and aunt’s assurance that things will change for good, she returned to her husband.

“When I saw her after a year, Sheeba was looking pale and her sunken eyes spoke of her pain. That beautiful and most lively person was lost,” says one of her cousins. “But she went back and we couldn’t do anything for her.”
Presently Sheeba is living a lonely life. “After all these years of marriage, I am still uncertain about my future. Ironically, now my husband has started complaining about my qualification. And he keeps on roaming around with his female colleagues. He is more comfortable with them. My privacy has been breached and I feel isolated. I can’t discuss such things with my aunt or mother because I fear it may strain our relation further. I am living a relation of just compromises.”
Dr Dabla says that inter-cultural marriages have their limitations as well. The people start getting problems while comprehending an alien language, cultural patterns, accommodation, social-setup and life style. “It is both way process; non-Kashmiri girls get married here and Kashmiri girls marry outside. And this we call as indianization, social integration which gets stronger day by day.”

He says there have been many cases where Kashmiris went to Russia or America for their studies but end up marrying there. They settled there, fearing the social adjustment problems.

But for thirty-year-old Iram, getting married outside the state turned out to be an unending nightmare. Her case was different from Sheeba’s and Shazia’s. She had married a Hindu boy without the consent of her parents.

After passing her 12th Standard examination Iram, then 18-years-old, got admission in Bachelors of Technology in a Delhi college. It was there, she got into a relation with a Hindu boy, Anil. Being a Muslim, Iram was aware of her parents’ reaction over her relation, so soon after completing their graduations, both decided to get married.
Before deciding to meet Iram’s family in Kashmir, the couple spent a month with Anil’s family in Delhi, who too were reluctant to accept the marriage. But both Iram and Anil had already made up their mind to face any consequences.
Iram being the only child of her parents was sure that once she will be married, her parents can’t do anything and they will be bound to accept their marriage. But she was wrong.
“They did just the opposite. After marriage I went home to meet my parents but we were both beaten up. I was locked up in my room and Anil was thrown out of the Jawahar tunnel. Initially I thought they might have killed him,” alleges Iram.
While Iram was wailing over her husband’s supposed death, one of her cousin informed her that Anil was sent home and not killed. “That was a relief, at least he was alive.”
After six months of struggle, Iram’s family motivated her to file a case in district court for divorce. She agreed. But once the judge asked Iram why she is seeking a divorce, she broke-out before him and narrated her ordeal.

“The Judge ordered my family to send me to Delhi to continue my married life. After that my parents couldn’t do anything but they broke up all the ties with me. That too was horrible but I didn’t want to live without Anil, so I decided to go back to Delhi,” recalls Iram.
Once back to Delhi, Iram was excited to meet her husband but the things had changed, and so was Anil. They started living together but the attitude of Anil’s family had changed towards her. “They would torture me mentally. Keep me without food for days together,” alleges Iram. “But what pained me the most was Anil’s attitude towards me. He was not even moved by what his parents were doing to me. I asked him a number of times that we should shift to some other place but he would not listen. I am giving him time because he too is angry for my parents’ behavior.”
With nothing going right in her life, Iram found herself sliding into depression.
To ride through this difficult phase in her life Iram decided to work again but the fear of going home was ‘haunting’.
“I couldn’t live separately because my husband won’t like it. Neither could I return home. Life is horrible. I cry a lot to unburden my heart. It is my only solace now,” feels Iram.
“I have ruined my life. Irony is I don’t have any place where I can go. I am frustrated and isolated.”

(All names in the story have been changed on request.)
Source::KashmirLife
Modified by::DAR_AABID

In KASHMIR “Ladki Ki Izzat Lut Gayi” The untold story.

By || Syed Aatirah Tahoor

Sairah, 26, visiting a gynecologist for years now.

She is not able to conceive.

Doctors are hopeful that she will be able to bear a child but she has to stop taking anti-depressants, which she says she is unable to live without.

She Narrates:

“It all started when I was in class ten. One of my relatives visited our home and stayed there for weeks because he had been looking for a job. My parents worked in a private company. One day I came back home and my parents weren’t present. This relative came and looked very dull, I don’t know but I believe I was scared of him that moment. His voice was horrific when he asked for water. I went into the kitchen and within no time he was behind me. I realized pretty late that my clothes were torn, I had bruises and marks all over my body and my private part had bled severely. When I opened my eyes, with a hope that it is a nightmare, I saw my mother besides me weeping and my father was standing near the window. I think he was weeping too. Then he said that we are moving from the town and we will shift to some other place. This thing, whatever happened, needs not to be told, Izzat ka sawaal hai (honour matters).

We moved to another city and I was strictly told not to reveal anything, otherwise I won’t get a suitor.

I still remember the pain I went through, physical, emotional and psychological. I used to get nightmares. I couldn’t sleep alone for months.

My mother bought me medicines that helped me to sleep. I still can’t sleep if I don’t take those. It has been almost a decade now. I didn’t like to go out. I was forced to stop school so I actually never went out for a year or so.

Then as soon as I was 18, my parents decided to get me married.

They looked for several boys and men, but I was mostly rejected because I looked weird.

One fine day, I met this guy during the process of looking for a groom. He somehow accepted to marry me and we got engaged the following week. After my engagement, I decided to tell my would-be husband the truth but my family didn’t allow us to meet alone even during our courtship. May be they knew I may not “keep the secret”. I got married after a year. I was 20 then.

I had problems in my marriage because my husband realized I wasn’t virgin and he questioned me about it the very first day after our marriage. I couldn’t resist speaking the truth and that impacted my marriage in a very bad manner.

My husband still doesn’t talk to me like husbands should. But I feel lucky that he didn’t confront my family and somehow understood why he wasn’t told the truth.

For past five years we are trying to start a family but I am not able to conceive. Doctors say it is because of the side effect of the sleeping tablets, but I can’t give those up. I cannot live without those. I still get nightmares of that fateful day, even when I take a nap during day. How would I sleep a whole night without tablets?”

Another girl, Razia, 21, is at a psychiatric clinic. She is with her boyfriend. She narrates her story and says that no girl should ever witness what she has experienced in life.

“I used to be a very happy girl, until my cousin’s marriage when I was 14. I and my whole family went there. Everyone was busy in their respective work and I was busy playing, that’s what every child does, isn’t it?

One of my cousin’s friends came to me and said he is going to market and wants to take me along. I was happy with the idea but wanted to ask my mother’s permission.

Mom permitted with smiling face.

As we went to the market, we brought some flowers and bouquets, he told me that he has some work at his home so we will first go there and then go back to the marriage hall.

                          I agreed.

As I went in there was no one present in the house. He took me inside and told me to wait in one room until he gets his stuff done.

It was taking him longer than expected so I thought of knocking at the door of his room to remind him that we have to go.

I went towards his room, the door was partially open and I could see his computer screen.

He was watching porn.

I knocked and said Bhaya it is getting late. He asked me to come in. I resisted saying we need to go but he insisted. I peeped through the door he had minimized that window so I opened the door and said we should go. He came towards me and dragged me in. The only thing I remember now is pain and blood.

He then asked me to clean myself as we had to go. He even beat me. He terrified me and said I must not tell this to anyone otherwise he will say to everyone that I wanted him to do this.

I don’t remember exactly what the other blackmails were.

That horror accompanied me for years but I never spoke to anyone about it.

It was only when I joined college and met him pointing towards her boyfriend).

He brought back my confidence and now takes care of me. He stood by me and that makes me feel that I will get over my horrible past.”

Sairah and Razia are just a few examples.

There are many more horrible stories that made me shiver while listening.

I get Goosebumps when I recapitulate those stories.

I feel I can never pen those down because my shivering hands won’t let me.

Sexual abuse is one of the common crimes and the most concealed crimes in our society. And most of the times the guilty is someone known to the victim.

There are hundreds of cases pending in the courts of law and several hundred that get unreported. And those who report it say that they feel they shouldn’t have because the cases are pending for years and guilty is roaming freely.

“He is married now and has two sons. He lives a dignified life and I have been fighting for more than a decade now and I can’t even get married because nobody marries a raped women. I feel I am being punished for standing up for truth and asking for justice. My parents are ashamed of me. They don’t support me anymore”, said Sheeba who is 33.

“The law has to change and we have to be given justice. For how long will we fight and our guilty will roam around us happily, living his life and even enjoying it?” asks Zamirah who was raped by her brother in law soon after her marriage.

She was divorced after she decided to file a complaint.

“Two things need to change, if we want the rape victims to live confidently. One is the law that provides bail to the guilty and second is the social taboo of ladki ki izzat lut gayi.

Instead, the person who commits this crime should feel that he has stripped his honor and not the victims.” said a lawyer, who has been taking up these cases for years now.

The article is based on true stories.

Suggestion: As we have our own Mother, sister daughter etc. So we should also give respect to others as we are treating our own..

Names of the people have been changed to respect their identities.

Appeal: Don’t stop if you know a story, because there are is need to speak against. Let us stand and prove it “we are strong enough” says a victim.

LIFE STORY not the only love story

To love and to be loved, is something we humans crave for. At least, some of us do. But, it hurts when the important one leaves us suddenly..

When I was in college and lost my mom to stroke, I made a friend online. Soon we became best friends. One day I casually told him about a crush I had on someone. This was the time when he realised he had feelings for me and couldn’t let go of me. He proposed but I told him I really don’t have romantic feelings for him. No, my intentions were not to friend zone him! I just didn’t feel attracted to him. He didn’t take no for an answer, he started coming to meet me every weekend from a city five hours from mine.

    Each weekend we would meet and he would convince me of how great we would be given our love for books, drawing, puzzles and quizzes. He used to wait hours outside my college. He treated my friends wonderfully! Even my friends started asking me why I would let go of such a genuine and nice guy.

He was intelligent, thoughtful, creative, sensitive and very mature. He had lost his parents and was taking care of his grandmom and brother. One weekend, I asked him to stop trying to convince me and I said we can only be friends if you never talk about this again. I still remember how I stormed off towards the escalator at the metro station while he simply stood there, numb and teary eyed.I felt like a monster.

   I sent him a sorry message and called him the next day to make sure he is okay. He talked me for a minute. Then he switched off his phone. Many times i wanted to meet him to say him that i also love him and want to marry him. But he never met me after that. I was so worried about him. But i was helpless. After waiting him for many years. Then i got married with my first crush. Istill miss him. If i got married with him i may be the happiest. Because in relationship the one who is loved gets much freedom then the one who loves the other. Sometimes i think how can i get him back. But everything has changed now. The only thing i am doing is praying for him.... Isn't it enough now..

Thanks for reading and keep sharing..

Being a Syed-zaadi wasn’t a matter of pride for me, it was a curse!

Hamza convinced his family and
within a few weeks his mother and
aunt came to my home to ask for my
hand.

I was born into a Syed family. Since
childhood, I’ve been told that this is
a blessing as we are the direct
descendants of Prophet Muhammad
(PBUH). Therefore, all Syed girls had
a status equivalent to that of
mothers of Ummah. Thus, it was
forbidden for us to even consider
marrying a non-Syed man. Everyone
called the girls of our family bibi jee
and, while growing up, this was a
matter of pride for me.
I was in my early teens when I first
realised that there were a number of
unmarried women in our family,
belonging to all age groups. Due to
family restrictions, finding a match
for Syed girls was extremely difficult.
For this reason, many of my cousins’
husbands were a complete
mismatch. To make matters worse,
most of my male cousins preferred
marrying outside their caste as the
men have no such restrictions.
We were three sisters and one
brother. My brother (who was two
years younger) was the most
important person in the house. His
birth sparked frantic celebrations in
contrast to rather muted welcomes
accorded to my sisters. From that
point onwards, he received
preferential treatment when it came
to food, clothes and was later
admitted to the top boarding school
in our area.

Time passed and I turned 18. I was
fair, tall and slim – ticking all the
right attributes conventionally
expected of an attractive girl. As I
was coming of age, some of my
female cousins were getting older; a
few in their 30s and others in their
40s. Some still hopeful, others left
with no dreams – trying to kill time
within the walls of their homes.
In a male dominated society, such as
Pakistan, finding a suitable match for
a girl over the age of 30 is
challenging. And for us Syed-zaadis,
it’s almost impossible.
Some of my male cousins in their
40’s were able to find girls half their
age. Most of their brides were non-
Syed, and in my heart I used to
wonder, if the Syed girls were given
the status of mothers of Ummah,
does it not make all Syed boys the
fathers of Ummah?
The decade I was growing up in was
the mobile and internet era. The
world around me was changing at a
much faster pace, but life in my
house was still anchored in the 18 th
century. In my family, not many girls
were allowed to go to school or
college. But my mother (who was
also non-Syed) insisted my father let
me go to college.
The only reason my father permitted
my attending college was so I could
find an educated husband. Most of
my class fellows were non-Syed and
had never faced the same restrictions
that I had. There were times when the
pressure of being a ‘bibi jee’ was too
much for me to handle.
And then I met Hamza; a boy who
used to wait for me outside my
college every day.

I didn’t want to speak to any man. I
resisted talking to him for a long
time, but he was persistent and I
liked the attention of this young,
handsome man. So, eventually I gave
in and we started talking and
exchanging notes. One day he
handed me a mobile. I accepted his
gift, not realising that it would
change my life forever.
We started talking to each other. He
was different from all the men
around me. He was supportive and
encouraged me to study hard and
follow my dreams. I wanted to dream
but I was scared. Hamza was the
only ray of hope in my life.
One day, my aunt (my father’s
unmarried sister who lived with us)
saw me texting on my mobile. She
immediately handed it to my father
who read all of my text messages.
My family threw a tantrum and
everyone blamed my mother for
allowing us freedom. My college life
was also held accountable. Soon
after, they decided to pull all my
sisters out of school. But the worst
was not over yet.
I requested a friend of mine to
contact Hamza and tell him about the
whole situation. Hamza convinced
his family and within a few weeks his
mother and aunt came to my home to
ask for my hand in marriage. My
family took that as an insult; after all,
how dare a commoner ask for the
hand of a Syed-zaadi? My
grandmother insulted Hamza’s
mother by telling her that she would
rather marry me to a dog than her
son.

I realised that being a Syed-zaadi
wasn’t a matter of pride for me
anymore; it was my biggest curse.
Everything around me was falling
apart and the only option I had was
to kill myself. I thought of running
away from home but I was too
scared. I would bring a bad name to
my family. I thought about how it
would impact my sister’s futures.
Weeks turned into months. My only
contact with the outside world was
my friend, who used to visit every
weekend and bring messages from
Hamza.
My father arranged my marriage with
a cousin of mine who was 42-years-
old. My brother moved back home
and started medical college. Every
man around me was selfish. They
only cared about themselves. If the
men in our family ever cared, they
would have never married any non-
Syed girl.
I prayed to my Creator every day,
“Oh my Allah, why do you bring
daughters into this family? The
ones you do, don’t give them a
heart. Don’t give them brain.”
I used to think about my aunt, the
one who spent her entire life taking
care of her brother’s children. I also
used to think about the many cousins
I have who are too old to find a good
husband. Every single woman in my
family was suffering.

I was being forced to marry a man
twice my age; all my hopes were
dying. Ten days before my wedding, I
received a message from Hamza
asking me to run away with him. This
was my only chance of getting out of
this cage, so I decided to be as
selfish like the men of my family and
leave home.
It was my last day. I was depressed
about having to leave my family, and
scared as well. I waited for everyone
to go to bed. At midnight I quietly
walked towards the back door of the
house. But, before I could open it, I
heard my father’s loud voice asking
me to stop. He was shouting from
his window and his voice woke up
my entire family who came running
towards me. My brother stood with
my father, a pistol in his hand. My
grandmother started cursing me and
crying.
Before I could say anything, I saw my
brother pointing the gun at me; a
loud bang, followed by extreme pain
in my chest. My mother came
forward to hold me, but it was too
late. I was already taking my last
breath.

The next morning the village people
were told that my father accidently
fired the gun while he was cleaning
it. My whole family chose to remain
quiet. No one reported the incident to
the police; no one said anything to
my brother. They all thought that he
saved their pride.
My family and other so-called
respectable families have got a lot of
blood on their hands. Death is not
always physical; there are countless
women who die every day by the
misery inflicted upon them by the so-
called respectable men in their
families. For 100s of years, in a
feudalistic society like ours, men
have used religion as a tool to
protect their lands and keep it within
the family. When Prophet Muhammad
(PBUH) can give his daughter’s hand
in marriage to Usman (RA), who was
not from his own family, then why
can’t we grant that same right to our
women?


Disclaimer: The post is a piece of fiction
inspired by a true story