Courage has a face in Kunan-Poshpora...

Kunan-Poshpora (Kupwara): If courage had a face, it would resemble 50-year-old Bhakti's. In the North Kashmir hamlet of Kunan-Poshpora, where agony and adversity to women was forced upon, on the intervening night of 23rd and 24th February, 1991, through the “weapon of rape”, she stood stoically against the perpetrators of the crime very few are capable of.

The incident that is perhaps written as the night of “oppression and brutality” may also be inked as a night when a mother of six daughters showed unrelenting courage and braved “terror leashing men even when gods turned their shoulders and watched silently”.

In Bhakti’s words, the wintry silence was broken by the trampling noises as she was attending her ailing husband who had suffered a heart attack few days back. Then there were cries that cut through the heart of the dead night.

“I first thought there was some quarrel between neighbours and went out to see where the noise was coming from,” she says.

It wasn’t a duel between neighbours. Army’s 4 Raj Rifles of 68 Brigade C/o 56 APO had launched a search operation in the two villages situated about five kilometers from the Kupwara Township. A section of troopers, who the locals claim were in an inebriated state, had gone on a rampage.

“Men held at gun points, women fleeing homes, open air interrogations” – all this happened away from the media glare on that cold wintry night. Women ran about as if chased by “wild animals”, she exclaims.

Suddenly tentacles of fear gripped, for moments she remained unmoved. “None of my daughters were married then, they were young and when I discovered what had befallen Kunan, I became numb … my daughters were sitting around their father’s bed,” she says.

Her numbness was broken by a loud knock. A woman who was fleeing from the troopers stood at the gate shouting for help. “I could not sit and listen to her cries. Somehow I overcame fear and ran towards the door,” she recalls.

Taja (name changed) stood at the door, breathless; she lived over a hundred yards away. “They (troopers) had barged into our house and caught hold of my sister-in-law and I managed to give them a slip through the door that leads to our kitchen garden,” says Taja.

Sensing trouble Bhakhti dragged her in and bolted the door quickly. “I asked one of my daughters to get water for her and then she narrated the story. Instead of making me worried I somehow lost fear,” Bhakti exclaims.

With fear written all over her face, Taja sobbed. She was restless till a thunderous bang at the main door made her stop. “She crouched in my arms as if she was dead,” says one of Bhakti’s daughter (name withheld).

The troopers had barged into the house compound. “My mother went to the door opened it and straight away asked for the officer heading the party of troopers, we could hear it from the room we were sitting in,” says her daughter.


She stood at the door and “refused to move till she saw the officer”. A call was made on the wireless. “He came and asked me why I wasn’t allowing his men to conduct search and I sternly replied that I had six daughters and I doubted his men,” says Bhakti.

An awkward silence followed and the officer asked his men to move away. Her courage grew and she ventured out to see if she could help more women. Her neighbour, Fahmida (name changed) recalls, “Many women were fleeing from the troopers and she dared to go out and give these women shelter,” adding “she stood guard at the gate of her house and forced back the troopers while her daughters looked after their ailing father and women who successfully fled from the clutches of the troopers.”

Her confrontation with the troopers ended only when they left at dawn. The night had passed witnessing the battle between “oppressor and oppressed”. However, the day saw a battle between “courage and cowardice”. “When the army left that morning, I went to a clinic to fetch a doctor. On my way, I noticed that the troopers had installed a video camera and were forcing men to record statements in their favour,” she vividly remembers. The sight perturbed her and she yelled at the group of men who were giving out statements. “If I had a gun I would kill all of you right here and would hand your widows to the army, do you people have a slightest idea of what has happened to your wives and daughters in your homes,” she recalls shouting angrily.

Ducking their chins in their cloaks in shame, the group of men grew uneasy. Her reminder prompted them to cut loose. Perhaps this was the moment that instigated the people to seek action. Rhate, her neighbour confirms, “People started to gather immediately after Bhakti shouted at them and they started to think of police action against the army.”


It was noon, the village heads were in serious consultation thinking about the course of action. A senior official from the army walked into the village demanding clean chit. Speaking in front of the gathering, the official vouched for his men. While villagers listened carefully, Bhakti, who stood in the crowd shouted at the official, "You had 10,000 army men with you?" He nodded. She asked, "Where were they all night? You yourself were standing outside the village where our men were interrogated. How do you know what was your army doing in the village?”

She gently moved an 80-year-old woman who was also a rape victim (The woman has passed away). “I bought her in front of the major and asked him, tell me isn’t she your mother… look at her torn clothes…what explanation would you offer now? All of them put their heads down in shame,” she recalls.

A few days later, the official came again, this time asking specifically for Bhakti, but she refused. Abdul Ahad Dar, the Sarpanch of Kunan while acknowledging says, “The officer came a few times probably to strike a deal and wanted to speak to Bhakti in person as she was at the forefront of the protest against the army.”

She refused bluntly, but the officer persisted upon a meeting. “It was only after some village elders convinced her to meet the officer, she relented,” Dar adds.

Bhakti says, “The officer had said to her that they had made an appeal which was granted and they were ready to pay compensation, provided villagers say that army has not done anything here.”

“Even if you give me money equaling the length and breadth of this house even then I won’t change my word. Till the judgment day the blood will ooze from our wounds,” was Bhakti’s reply.

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