//Shopian Rape and Murder: The Second Anniversary of Injustice

Shopian Rape and Murder: The Second Anniversary of Injustice

May 30, 2011
By Koshur Mazloom
Just two years have passed by. It was 29 of May 2009. My body has not yet turned into the dust in the grave. My bones are still aching. Blood on my face has not yet dried up. My beloved Aasiya is still having those tears in her stony eyes. I still remember how beasts tore apart our chaste bodies. I still remember how those savages pounced upon our modesty and trampled upon our honour. They were filled with lust and hate. I still remember how they were enjoying and were deriving sadistic pleasure out of our helplessness. Our weakness was our Womanhood. We struggled till our last bit of energy. Our fatigue from the struggle became their strength. I still remember how frightening it was. I could hear angels screaming in agony, with us. I could hear my voice had gone hoarse and I was only waiting for my end. No one came to our rescue. Aasiya was calling me for help but I myself was helpless. I was crying, “Ha Myanii Khodayoo” (O! My beloved God) and she was screaming, “Katuoo Chukhh Myanii Babboo” (Where are you? my father). But savages were relentlessly obliterating our chaste bodies with their savage lust.


I was already pregnant by two months and was so happy for becoming a second time mother. My toddler son Suzanne was waiting for me at home.  My husband Shakeel had called me up just few minutes back and was worried for us. I had told him, not to worry as we had already walked halfway towards our home from our orchard where we had gone for the work. I did not know the cruel fate is awaiting us in the shape of some beasts wearing Indian uniform. As we passed by their camp, they stopped us and took us forcibly inside the vehicle which was parked in front of their camp. They pounced upon us like hyenas, tearing apart our flesh. Our helplessness was our only companion. Our faith was our crime and our womanhood was our punishment. Even Satan would have wept at our plight but those beasts did not show any mercy. They were establishing their superiority over our possessed bodies. They were plundering us like barbarians used to plunder the conquered lands. After they satisfied their wild lust, they delivered some humanity on us. They just killed us and set our souls free. They saved us from living the lives of humiliation and burden. Had they left us alive, we would have cursed them for letting us to live.

Then they threw our mauled bodies into the pristine waters of a nearby stream only to get rid of their own crime. Waters in that stream were not enough to touch our molested flesh. Stream was too shallow to drown our bodies. We were left there in the stream in the dead of night. That night was too long and too dark.  And when the chirping of birds started and skies above us started to become blue for those looking for us, Shakeel along with my brother found us lying dead on those lifeless boulders.Aasiya was lying some distance away from me and she was left there with an uncovered body.Shakeel, covered her body with his shirt and we were lifted from there. That day sky did not look like the way it used to look to me. It had turned red and every human face around looked black. We were placed on a stretcher and taken to the nearby hospital for conducting what they say an autopsy. They wanted to determine whether we were raped or not? How pathetic. We were again subjected to shame. They dissected the un- dissected parts of our bodies, took out the samples of our molested flesh and confirmed our rape. But then the henchmen of molesters in the uniform came with an order for those who were doing the autopsy. They told them to change their verdict and call our death, a case of simple drowning in shallow knee deep waters. How shameful. Doctors complied with orders from the above and declared, whatever was dictated to them. This exasperated our shame. Our blood drenched faces were not enough for them, so they stabbed us again in the heart. How can power and lust be so cruel? How can those who have come into the existence from the wombs of women like me, be so unremorseful. And some of them even worship women in temples and consider them goddesses. I wonder after tormenting our souls with misery and dread, those beasts must have visited the temples of Durga or Vaishno Devi with donations and thankfulness for saving them from getting exposed.  Some of them even might have taken a dip in the waters of river Ganga to purify their sinful souls from the burden of crime. Crime which they had left to drown in another stream which also eventually culminates into the same sea which the waters of Ganges also end up into. I wonder how our blood shall forgive their crime. No wonder why rivers of Kashmir do not pass through their lands.

 After wrapping the outrage of our chastity in the package of lies, a hell broke loose all around. People were agitated in flash anger and chanted high pitched false slogans of revenge. One shame was that our honour was trampled on with Jackboots of suppression and the other one was that we were raped again after our death. If only dead could speak, I would have yelled at their faces, how dare you molest us again and again. That day they did not molest me only, they also molested my unborn child living in my womb. We were taken in a procession towards our graves after someone from the puppet administration pacified the restive public with a promise of usual ‘impartial’ probe. We were buried in the soil which gave our bodies a soothing relief. But that was not enough; they exhumed us from our graves after a few days again to conduct another autopsy under the supervision of some doctors from Delhi which they claimed were ‘impartial’. They raped us again that day. Result was a usual pack of lies only to shield those vultures who represent the Indian state in our gloomy nation. Our death was again confirmed as a natural case of drowning. Not so strange anymore.

This is not a shame for only those who shredded our modesty to smithereens to satisfy their lunatic lust, but this is even a bigger shame for those who shielded the criminals in uniform. This is a shame for those who claim to be the vanguards of Indian democracy and justice. Omar Abdullah, the Indian ruler of this land tried his best to convert our rape and murder into an ordinary case of death. He manipulated with medical findings, bullied those who were speaking the truth, fudged the autopsy reports, and arrested those who were protesting against this rape of justice. These thugs left no stone unturned to shield their henchmen. Indian democracy again raised its ugly head in Kashmir and the person heading that farce in Kashmir revealed his real dreadful identity. He showed his scornful indifference and reminded us that, Slaves should not yearn for justice. He became a compatriot of molesters all willfully only to satiate and safeguard his lust for power.

Since this case has been closed now by those who themselves committed the crime of compliance with the crime, I do not want you to agitate and beg them to open it again. I know justice cannot be delivered as long as you are dead in the slumber of life. I just want you not to spectate anymore again, when some other Neelofar and Aasiya would become the objects of vengeful assertiveness of hegemonic brutality. Oppressors always would want you to be remindful of your inferiority of being possessed by a frenzied army of occupation. Do not become collaborators of their crime by behaving like a herd of sheep in the
slaughterhouse of a butcher. Today it was us; tomorrow your turn will also come to experience the sharpness of the butcher’s knife on your throats. If you want to live a life of a dignity, then do not forget our pain. I know, you all are too much preoccupied with your lives. You are in slumber of your meaningless lives. You cannot change anything. I wish if dead could come out of their graves to fight for the freedom of their living companions.  But dead cannot come alive. But I still wish to see a change as I have left my innocent lad Suzanne there to suffer with you. I hope he will not live a meaningless life of shame.