SHEERI (Baramulla): Even as the guns and missile attacks have stopped, villagers who were forced to flee for safety from several villages in Uri and Gurez now find that they cannot go back to their homes. The recent India-Pakistan ceasefire along the Line of Control has brought little comfort to displaced residents, who face the harsh reality of destroyed homes and the lingering threat of unexploded ordnance.
"We don't want to die every day," said Nasir Ali from Uri. "Either keep the ceasefire agreement or end it all."
Restrictions Prevent Villagers
For many families like Zubaida Begum's, the trauma of intense shelling remains vivid. "I spent three days in shelling without my husband. I, along with my four children, were huddled in one room, trying to shield them. The sounds were so horrific; I couldn't manage or bear this situation because of my small children," Zubaida recalled.
With her husband working in Minamarg Kargil, she faced the terrifying bombardment alone. After seeking refuge in a nearby mosque for two days, she managed to board an evacuation bus. Now sheltered at Mountain Valley Educational Institutions in Sheeri, her desire to return home faces official resistance.
"Since the ceasefire has been announced, I want to go and see my house, whether it is still there or not. All my belongings and animals are there, and nobody is there to take care of them," she explained, tears welling in her eyes. "I cried and pleaded with the police to let me go, but they denied me."
The restrictions on returning villagers stem from legitimate safety concerns. Unexploded ordnance scattered throughout the area poses deadly risks to returning civilians, creating a painful limbo for those desperate to assess damage to their homes and livestock.
Nothing But Devastation
For those who have briefly returned to check their properties, the devastation is overwhelming. "Even after the ceasefire, the tension is still in the air. Nobody knows what will happen in the next moment," said Nasir Ali, who ventured back briefly. "I have just come after the ceasefire to have a look, and all I can see is destruction. It's not a place to live now."
The emotional toll is evident as Nasir contemplated his family home reduced to rubble. "I'm shattered. What will my father and mother think when they see this house in this condition? They put so much effort into building it. It feels impossible for us to rebuild now," he sobbed.
Trust in the ceasefire remains fragile. Sharafat Hussain from Gingal Uri described returning briefly with his brother, only to find his home in ruins. "We have been wandering from one place to another with family, including my two-and-a-half-year-old daughter," he shared, voice breaking. "I and my brother have come back, but we are just collecting the debris. We will go back to the shelter."
The psychological impact on children has been particularly severe. Sharafat recalled putting cotton in his daughter's ears to shield her from the terrifying sounds of bombardment.
"The women of the house didn't want to come here. They are still waiting for the situation to normalise because they don't trust these verbal and paper agreements," added Sharafat's brother.
Another displaced villager said, twenty-five families fled Syed Mohalla Gingal on May 8. Only ten individuals have briefly returned to check on their properties, finding mostly debris where homes once stood.
For now, the villagers' plea is simple. As Zubaida Begum put it: "I request both countries to ensure this ceasefire remains forever. Otherwise, I would rather wander than put myself and my children's lives at risk."
Loss of Lives
For Sanam, the loss of home comes with losing a precious life – that of her mother.
Her mother, Nargis Begum, a 40-year-old school worker and mother of six, was killed when their vehicle was stuck around 9.00 PM while trying to flee their village, Razarwani, on the Line of Control. Three members of the family were injured.
“They were fleeing for safety,” said Mohammad Shafi, a relative. “Who would have thought that in their search for shelter, they would lose a life?” Her death has shaken the entire village. “We are used to shelling, but this time was unprecedented.”
“We are scared and helpless. We can’t sleep or eat,” he added, trembling.
Sanam, Nargis’s 16-year-old daughter, sat quietly, wiping tears from her eyes. Her wedding was just weeks away. “Please bring my mother back,” she whispered. “Who will help me prepare for my wedding now? How can I live without her?”
Her aunt, Tasveer Begum told the Kashmir Times that Nargis has left behind young children, Sanam being the eldest, and an ailing husband who suffers from chronic asthma.
Harrowing Memories
The trauma of that night echoes in everyone’s minds. In Lagama Uri, Akhtar Parmeen recalled the moment a shell fell on their shops. “It reduced everything to rubble. I’ve never witnessed anything like this before. The scene was horrific. My family and I huddled together in one room.”
With the help of the Baramulla district administration, they were evacuated as the situation worsened. “We survived on what little we had left,” Parmeen said. “But the danger was growing. We had no choice but to leave.”
Her husband, Sakhi Mohammad, remembered the urgency of the moment. “My priority was the safety of my family, my ailing wife and our six children, especially our two young daughters. I didn’t think about our belongings. I left everything behind, even our animals. It felt wrong, but I had no choice. I hope to return and care for them once things settle.”
Now, the family has found temporary refuge in a shelter set up by the district administration at Government Degree College Boniyar. “I am grateful for the food, shelter, and medical care we’ve received,” Parmeen said. But the fear remains. “We won’t return until the situation is completely safe. We have no strength left to endure this again,” Sakhi added.
Further along the border, in the Esham area, Halima Begum cradled her grandchild as she recounted the night the shelling began. “As a mother and grandmother, I was in shock. It’s hard to stay calm during such times.” She instinctively shielded her six-month-old grandchild, lying down with her to protect her from the blasts.
After three days of fear and sleepless nights, her family managed to escape to Uri town in a private vehicle. “We plan to go to my in-laws’ house in Chandanwari,” she said. “These past three days, I haven’t slept. Each moment felt like death was near.”
Halima, like many others, left behind not just possessions, but animals and livelihoods. “I feel ashamed that I couldn’t prepare food for my family. But no one wanted to eat. We were too terrified,” she says.
Her daughter-in-law, Ishrat, worried for relatives who were left behind. “They are vulnerable, alone with their belongings. Anything could happen.” Ishrat’s 7-year-old daughter, Ayat, shared her fear in a few simple words: “Every time I heard a shell, I screamed, ‘Bachao! (Save me)’” Then after a pause, she whispers, “Please, stop all this. I want to go to school and meet my friends.”
The emotional toll of the conflict weighs heavily on families. Masrat, a mother from Bandi Uri, has been facing anxiety since the shelling began. “My children haven’t eaten. They just cry and plead. It’s overwhelming to stay strong when your only concern is their safety.”
As shelling intensified, she realized they could no longer stay. “When a shell fell near our house on the morning of May 9, we knew we had to leave. There was no choice.” Her voice was steady, but her words betrayed exhaustion. “Previous incidents were brief. This time, it’s different. When the power went out in the evening, it felt like death was closing in.”
‘Only Peace Can Give us Relief’
Packing whatever she could carry, Masrat focused on immediate needs. “My only concern is to secure food and shelter for my children. Only peace can bring us real relief.”
Her final words echoed what many others along the border have said in recent days: “I urge both countries to stop this madness. If not, just end it all. Let us live in peace.”
Across these villages, stories repeat in different voices. Families torn apart, children left in shock, and homes reduced to rubble. The trauma of violence clings to the displaced, as does a fragile hope for peace, for return, and for a life where children go to school, mothers cook meals, and families live without fear.
For now, they wait in shelters, away from their homes and land, unsure of when or if they can return. But amidst the devastation, one thing remains clear: those living in the shadows of conflict are not asking for much just the right to live safely, with dignity, and in peace.
(The news article has been updated with more photos)
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