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THE CARE-WOMEN'S FEATURE SERVICE FELLOWSHIPS, 2008(Personal Account)
 | 'If the women refuse to sell fish, the men would be at a loss'
By Prakriiti Gupta
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While I was working on my story on Kashmir's fisherwomen, I faced many situations, some pleasant, others less so. Among the happier moments was a long shikara ride on the Dal Lake. I had been wanting to do this for a long time but had never found the time!
My first trip was to a fishing community settlement on the lake. The whole place was quite unhygienic. I could barely breathe and had to cover half my face for the stench, despite my best efforts to resist the urge. The children were without clothes. Except for a few, the majority did not go to school and spent their time playing or swimming in the dirty waters of the Dal Lake while accompanying their parents on the boats. However, I was impressed by the boat rowing skills of even four-year-olds. During my interactions with the fishing families, I found that they were reluctant to give me information or pose for photographs unless I paid them. On my second trip, I made sure to carry some sweets and chocolates for the kids and packets of peanuts for the women. Things went smoothly thereafter. I was allowed inside their temporary huts and was even given a trip on their fishing boats.
I was surprised how some families managed to live on the boats, which carried their meagre possession - a stove, some pots and pans, a few clothes and bedrolls. They cook, eat and sleep on these boats. How do the women manage to smile through it all? I wonder. Early every morning, to answer nature's call, they paddle the boats to the very centre of the lake. One thing that came across was that the women were highly emancipated and quite vocal about their problems; the men, in contrast, were rather subdued. The reason for this, I later gathered, was because the women were the backbone of the whole fishing business. If they refuse to sell fish, the men would be at a loss. They haven't sold fish for centuries and don't know how to!
During my trip on Amirakadal Bridge, Srinagar's unofficial fish market, I saw a policeman rebuking a fisherwoman. He dragged her fish away and asked her to vacate the place. The woman haltingly asked the policeman not to abuse her and then left with tears in her eyes. Despite the fact that several women politicians and intellectuals in the state have talked about the plight of these fisherwomen, very little has been done for their welfare. They don't even have an authorised fish market that would have saved them from facing routine humiliation at the hands of the police, municipal staff and road vendors.
Clearly, these are not women with much money. Most of those interviewed by this reporter wore torn clothes. But they all seemed to be fond of wearing hanging earrings, made of cheap material.
A distinctive thing about them is their 'kasaab', a cap decorated with beads and metal rings that is wore under the scarf - no other community in the region wears a 'kasaab'. In earlier times, the 'kasaab' was given as a gift to the bride by her parents but now this custom has almost vanished.
One thing that amazed me about these women was their easy acceptance of their hard lot. They see it as a decision made by Allah, and accept it without demur. There is much the rest of us - who despite having all the basic amenities of life are still dissatisfied - can learn from these amazing women.
Reporting on the lives of Muslim Gujjar women was also a challenge. But like the fisherwomen of Srinagar, for these women too 'work is worship'. They don't like to be disturbed while they are working but are quite receptive to conversation in their free time.
Although these people account for an estimated Rs 30 million worth of milk per day, their living conditions are abysmal. Their homes are shacks or tents or mere grass roofed structures. But this does not seem to have dulled their enthusiasm for a nomadic lifestyle. It was quite an adventure when I accompanied a family on its way to their summer abode in the hills. The hot glass of buffalo milk I was offered spoke of their generous hearts. The care and concern they display to their cattle is equally touching. When asked why they do keep aging livestock that ate into their profits, pat came reply, "They have nurtured us all their lives, how can we dump them when they grow old?" .
Interestingly, the livestock start migrating on their own when the weather starts getting hot around March-April, and when it turns cold in the month of September. If the Gujjar families themselves are not ready to move, the animals have to be physically stopped. If they are not disturbed, they can reach their destinations on their own. They are like wild animal of the forests and know how to protect themselves from being attacked by carnivorous animals. They have their own warning signals and all the cattle then form a circle, with the calves inside, and fend off any attack. This behaviour is not seen in dairy buffaloes.
The extreme poverty these women live in exposes the bitter reality that the efforts of the government and the NGOs working for their progress have not borne much fruit. The men of the community surprised me with their liberal attitudes. They encouraged the women to pose for pictures and speak freely to me. When the issue of sporting a veil came up, the majority of the men said, "We trust our women and if one has to do wrong, she can do it with the veil as well!"
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