Two fish sellers’ stories reveal a society that has failed its most vulnerable women
Sayeesa Shaban
In Kashmir, the plight of elderly widows is a pressing concern, with hundreds living in abject poverty and pathetic conditions. These widows, who once ruled their families like queens, are not only denied their rightful share of inheritance but also left with no means of sustenance by those for whom they once sacrificed their everything. Left to the mercy of God, these widows everywhere in the Valley are either forced to depend on the goodwill of others for survival or pushed out to earn for themselves in unfavourable circumstances.
Two such elderly widows whose painful stories I have heard, and am narrating for you in the following paragraphs, are a testament to the darker side of our society that has failed to protect its most vulnerable members, leaving them in a lurch and to suffer in silence. Yes, I met them last week on two separate visits, two towns apart. I have had a first-hand experience of meeting those who have been left to navigate the harsh realities of life alone. Their life is totally a struggle, marked by loneliness, hard work, anxiety, pain and a desperate need for support.
The first elderly widow is Mukti Begum, aka Mukht Mass, 91, from Srinagar, and another is Sara Begum, Sara Mass, age 80 or above, from Sopore, whose life has become a struggle and dignity worn thin by the weight of their circumstances. Yes, there are n-number of Mukht and Sara Mass like elderly widows’ painful stories that need our attention. These elderly widows, whose struggle needs to be understood, are the victims of loneliness, anxiety and separation, etc.
Sometimes, I think that those of elderly widows, who don’t share their stories for so long, make a mistake. I feel it is my duty today to narrate these widows’ stories that misted my eyes while hearing them face-to-face. Without beating about the bush, let me take you right away through their stories. Though both of them are Gadhe Wajine (fish sellers), yet, I never mean to talk about the fisher women only, but the widows, in general. I consider myself lucky enough not only to have bought fish from them, but while they cleaned my share, I have had the chance to listen to their aching stories.
The first widow was Mukht Mass, who sells fish at Amira Kadal, Srinagar. Although she was a bit reluctant to share her story with me in the beginning. Yet, when I had a brief conversation with her, affectionately, she went on narrating everything to me like her own daughter. She walks three kilometres every day to sell fish to her customers. At first, she got angry when I told her that she sells fish on high rate. But then, when I sat down beside her while she cleaned my fish, she got persuaded. Not only did she offer me a discount later, but she narrated her whole touching story of struggle to me, which every day forces her to leave her home in the cold and sit on the footpath of the bridge to earn his livelihood.
She said, “I cover a long distance to reach here. I am not allowed to sit idle at home, even in this old age. I’m living with my lone daughter. My husband died due to a heart attack a decade ago. He wasn’t that old. Since his death, I’ve been living with my daughter in Nishat, who also lost her husband last year. She is mothering two kids and manages all the household chores. Tell me, Kori (dear daughter in Kashmiri), if I do not come out to earn, who will feed us? We’ll die due to starvation if I can’t do this work.” “Here (in Kashmir, she meant), no one takes care of anyone. One has to earn, if one wants to survive. Nobody except Allah ta’lla is one’s own”, she added with tears rolling down her wrinkled face.
This was Mukht Mass’s story. Now let me tell you the story of Sara Mass, whom I met in Sopore’s famous fish market some days back, to buy fish. She comes to sell fish from a nearby village. She, too, is a widow. Quite famous among his customers, she finishes his Gadde Tuf (fish tub) before Zuhr prayers, and then goes home. She too has lost her husband in his fifties and is living with her younger daughter-in-law, whose husband is a driver. Her story, too, was touching. She is never allowed to sit idle at home and is forced to earn for herself. She said, “Gar Denum Na Chhe Nai, Agar Na Gadde Kanne. Khudayes Kune Shukr, Yeme Hameshe Izzat Thouwnum. Loouk Chem Loale Saan Kaathe Karan” (I won’t be allowed to get inside my home, if I didn’t sell fish. Thanks to Allah who made life easy for me. People talk to me so affectionately everywhere).
The stories of these two elderly widows make me think of all the widows in Kashmir who face similar struggles every day. It’s hard to put their experiences into words, but it’s time for us to take action. We want the world to be a better place, so let’s start by supporting these women. They are not meant to work and struggle at their age–they are meant to relax, share their wisdom, and enjoy their twilight years. They have taken care of us; now it’s our turn to take care of them. Let’s give them the love and respect they deserve, instead of making them face hardships. They are our grandmothers, our mothers in whose laps we once heard lullabies and fell asleep. Let’s treat them with kindness and compassion.
(The stories are true, but the names have been changed)
The writer hails from Sopore
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