 Sanjay Pandita
Early Times Report
Jammu, Dec 13: In a moment that carried the weight of decades of unshed tears, 39 families who lost their loved ones to terrorism finally received a measure of justice on Saturday. As Lieutenant Governor Manoj Sinha handed over appointment letters at Lok Bhavan, the air was thick with emotions that had been suppressed for far too long.
These were not just administrative documents being distributed. Each letter represented a family torn apart by senseless violence, children who grew up without knowing a parent's embrace, and households that never recovered from the trauma of losing their pillars of support.
Pakeeza Riyaz has lived 25 years with the memory of her father's murder. She was just a child in 1999 when terrorists took Riyaz Ahmed Mir from her forever. The innocence of her childhood was shattered in an instant, replaced by a void that no amount of time could fill. Today, the government job letter in her hands offers not just economic stability, but a recognition of her family's suffering.
Shaista's story mirrors countless others. When Abdul Rashid Ganai was murdered in 2000, her world collapsed. The years that followed were marked by poverty, stigma, and an agonizing silence—a silence born not from acceptance, but from the crushing weight of grief and fear.
Then there is Fozy, who experienced a tragedy no child should ever witness. On February 4, 2000, she lost both her father, Fayaz Ganie, and grandfather, Dilawar Ganie, in a single brutal attack. In one horrifying day, two generations of love, protection, and guidance were violently ripped away. The family home, once filled with warmth and laughter, became a tomb of memories. For 25 years, young Fozy has carried the burden of that day—the day everything changed forever.
Ishtiyaq Ahmad was barely more than a child when his father, BSF braveheart Altaf Hussain, was martyred in a terrorist encounter 19 years ago. He grew up learning to be strong when he needed comfort, to be the man of the house when he needed guidance, to shoulder responsibilities far beyond his years.
The family of Abdul Aziz Dar waited 30 years—three decades of hoping, praying, and wondering if anyone remembered their pain. Three decades of watching life move on while they remained frozen in their grief.
"For these families, today the long wait for justice has ended. With concrete steps for rehabilitation, we have restored their dignity and faith in the system," Lieutenant Governor Sinha said, his words acknowledging what had been a cruel reality for far too long.
The families spoke of their ordeals—years spent in the shadows, marginalized by the very system that should have protected them. They described the double tragedy they endured: first, the brutal loss of their loved ones, and then, the systemic neglect that followed. While those connected to the terror ecosystem found their way into government jobs, the true victims were left to fend for themselves, their suffering ignored, their pleas unheard. |
