For almost five decades a couple has been rowing a boat to keep two Kashmir villages, lacking a bridge, stay connected. They worked on barter. As the old couple decided to move from kind to cash, they were pushed to face a competitor, reports Babra Wani
Not far away from Awantipora, lie two villages: Pujteng and Dogripora. Separated by the Jhelum, the two hamlets are connected by boats, as the bridge intended to unite them, remains in pieces, halfway constructed and incomplete.
Behind ensuring the two villages stay connected are a couple of Dogripora, a few kilometres from Sangam on the National Highway and home to almost 4000 people, are Ghulam Qadir Lulloo and Taja Begum. Married for over four decades, they have taken it upon themselves to assist those in need, aiding people in crossing the shrinking and silted up yet majestic river.
The middle-aged couple owns an open, spacious, albeit worn-out boat of a distinctive green colour. This boat has been their source of livelihood for more than five years, marking their tenth boat in a legacy spanning over five decades. Qadir takes pride in his legacy, and as he narrates his life story, he occasionally pauses to take a puff of his jageer, a constant companion on his boat throughout the day.
A Long Story
While Qadir shares his experiences, Taja, his best half, assumes rowing the boat. Modestly dressed in a plain pheran and kaeshir daej, with a warm smile, Taja interjects with her thoughts to support her husband’s statements.
“My husband has been doing this for as long as I can remember; I joined him later after our marriage,” Taja said with simplicity, her eyes fixed on the anchor as she ties the boat’s rope after ceasing to row. “We have earned our living through this noble work.”
A resident of the nearby Panzgam village, Taja and Ghulam Qadir have three children – two daughters and a son. Their son has chosen carpentry and lives separately with his wife and children.
Qadir’s altruism and dedication manifest in his willingness to spend nights in his boat. “As people used to travel to far-flung places, I would wait here, thinking they would need me upon their return. What if I were not here? What would these poor people do?”
A Fascinating Couple
The profound connection between the couple becomes evident in their conversations. “I followed my husband in giving naayi taar, two years after our marriage,” emotionally expressed Taja. “But, to be very honest, people do not respect your contribution. We feel betrayed.”
Some time ago, Ghulam Qadir fell seriously ill, confining him to bed for almost four months. “I could not even stand. My legs did not support me to walk. So, I could not continue my work during those months, but then people started betraying me.”
During those months, Taja took it upon herself to fill the void and became the bridge between the villages. However, she soon faced disappointment.
The Great Betrayal
During his health crisis, the village politics took over and they introduced a competator to Qadir. For providing taar to people, he used to take a share of rice from them. “But when it yielded nothing, I had to ask for money as I had a family to support.”
Then, his wife decided that barter is not offering them anything. They approached the villagers for paying cash to cross the river – Rs 5 for a crossing. “I informed them that my husband is unwell, and we cannot move around easily. It would be better if you provided us with money,” Taja said. Instead of considering their pain, they were asked to relocate the boat and pave way for the competitor. “So, we moved our boat. We waited, hoping someone would inquire why we relocated, but alas! Nobody came,” Ghulam Qadir recounted. “People now prefer the other boat, and nobody asks us anything.” They pay him in cash but insist Qadir should opt for kind.
“This was our livelihood – both my husband and I have grown older doing this work. But this is what we get,” Ghulam Qadir expressed with overwhelming disappointment. “I do not understand why the people in our village betrayed us. Perhaps they were envious of our success.”
Poverty
Significantly, for over seven generations, residents from Dogripora have been aiding people in crossing the river between Pujteng and Dogripora. In the absence of a bridge, these twin villages have consistently relied on the services of boat rovers. “This is such a pious job, but…” the boat rover trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished.
“Hardly anyone comes to us now. Even earning a meagre amount of Rs 50 seems difficult. At this point, we are barely able to make ends meet with this income,” lamented the couple, their voices tinged with despair and hopelessness.
The green boat features a section with old blankets, accompanied by a kettle of nuon chai that the couple enjoys throughout the day. This area, covered with a blue trupaal, serves as a refuge for the husband and wife during the cold of winters on the river.
The Bridge
During Mufti Syed era, a bridge was earmarked to connect the two sides of the river. Nearly two decades later, the prospect of walking over the bridge remains an elusive dream.
The three concrete pillars of the bridge await completion, despite assurances to the villages that the project would be finished. Construction commenced in 2007 to link the village to the Srinagar-Anantnag National Highway, but progress has been negligible. The bridge, if completed, would not only benefit, Dogripora apart, Reshipora, Panzgam, Shal-Taken, and Nayina.
Ghulam Qadir starts his day at six in the morning and concludes around seven in the evening. “Even if someone needs to cross the river in the dead of night, we have to do it; it’s our job,” he emphasised. “For this purpose, I keep my phone with me. People can call us anytime for river crossings. We consider this job sacred and hold it dear to our hearts.”
