Mom lost some battles, but she did win the war

I have written stories about my dad.

But today, I am posting a chapter from a series of stories from my mom’s life.

Through her struggles and perseverance, her stories give you a glimpse at women’s challenges in a predominantly patriarchal society.

Her fight against caste-ridden Muslim society and her struggle to save her children from being a casualty of the conflict in Kashmir.

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Chapter 1: She may have lost some battles, but she did win the war

Encapsulating a woman only as a child-bearer and nurturer is limiting and debilitating. Perhaps Regressive. I know many people get unnerved by this thought.

But I hold onto this idea very firmly. And these thoughts of mine have been shaped by the strongest woman in my life.

The professor, the principal, the social worker, and the virtual Mohalla president for a long time. And my mother.

A woman who refused to play by the rules. Perhaps the reason why my personal relationship with her has had a share of euphoric crests and torturous troughs.

A woman for whom giving birth and raising us is only one of her many achievements and, dare I say, not the most important one. And here, I don’t mean ironing uniforms and sending them to school.

Mom, along with Dad, did a damn good job with the three children she has raised. Not many homes in Kashmir Valley have a PhD in string theory, a Master’s from a University in England and a Specialist working with the United Nations.

For me, Mom’s significant achievements have been at many other levels. Starting with the fight with the upper-class castes in higher echelons in administration, the upper caste Brahmins and the Geelanis, the Muftis and the Nehvis in Kashmir who tried everything to stop in her tracks.

Mom had a gold medal from Kashmir University. And that gold medal wasn’t easy. For Muslim girls from supposedly lower castes, schooling in the 60s and 70s was an abnormality and studying in a University was unheard of.

The luxury could be afforded to girls from Kashmir Pandit (Hindu) and upper-class Muslim families. Coming from Dagga Mohalla from interior Rainawari in Srinagar, her struggle was on many fronts.

Not only to perform her best in her studies and defeat the deeply entrenched regressive caste coterie.

Thankfully, Mom had strong support at home. A grandfather who had done his matriculation around the 1920s. A. father who had completed his Bachelor of Arts in 1947 from Amar Singh College, then affiliated with Lahore University.

They both adored Mom and made sure no door was closed for her.

Mom has an interesting story.

“My grandfather loved Mathematics. He wanted me to pursue a career in Mathematics. But I couldn’t find the class and sat in history class for three days. I loved it so much and took it as a career.”

More importantly, her Grandpa and dad assured her that girls are not liabilities and are only meant to cook dinner and bear children.

And she did not disappoint them. She passed with flying colours from Kashmir University. A gold medal we are still envious of.

But that joy was short-lived.

Mom aced the written test and performed brilliantly in an interview for the college lecturer post. But she was rejected in favour of a specific Mufti.

“Kabhi kabhi lihaaz Bhi chalana padta hai.” “Sometimes we have to respect the relations.”

These were the words of a member of a Public Service Commission official. These are terms that have resonated with her for a long time.

It was her first brush with the upper-class coterie. Deeply entrenched in higher echelons of the administration, this institutionalized caste system prefers your birth in certain families to your merit.

And trust me, this cheating is done with a perfect mix of smugness, sophistication and cunningness.

Mom did get into college, but after the upper caste clan, she wasted three precious years at the start of her career. She performed with aplomb at a school in the Hazratbal shrine. Her love for shrines got stronger and more profound.

But it was when I was in college that the real struggle started. A struggle that. Continued all her work life. And not only her but we, the children, suffered a lot. Missing her time and warmth.

She was posted in colleges in villages and away from power centres for most of her tenure. The members of her upper-class coterie refused to leave the luxurious confines of the city. The Muftis and Geelanis lived a life of luxury while Mom was battling it in public transport.

She was leaving home at 7 in the morning and shuttling for hours in public transport, reaching destinations as far as Baramulla and Anantnag. Then, she returned and cared for her family, an exhausting job she did with distinction. Quran was her only support.

Many in Kashmir take such indignation at the hands of the upper caste lying down. Mom didn’t. Mummy fought them in court for four long years. She lost the case against the morally corrupt and casteist administration but won the battle in the long run.

While the upper-class coterie rotted in their luxurious confines, Mom became the principal of one of the most prominent colleges in Kashmir. She set up that college and made it a big name. Her name is etched forever on its carving stone.

Seeing her leave for college in a shiny Ambassador driven by a chauffeur did undo years of humiliation in public transport. She also slapped the casteist clique, who thought they could stop her.

But this fight was just part of her journey. Many other battles were fought and won.

Thanks, Haleema Akhtar. We are honoured and privileged to know you in person.