M.K Kaw
Early Times Report
Jammu, Aug 18: While the rescue operation is going on in the cloudburst-affected Chishoti village of Kishtwar on the fifth successive day, the patience of the inhabitants of Banagarh village is running out as there is no sign of the seven missing residents of this ill-fated hamlet.
The dusty lanes of Banagarh village tell a story of unimaginable sorrow today. Where children's laughter once filled the courtyards, only whispered prayers and muffled sobs remain.
Seven beloved members of a single family have vanished into the merciless waters of Kishtwar's deadly cloudburst, leaving an entire community drowning in grief.
It was meant to be a sacred journey. Vijay Kumar and his extended family of 15 had set out with hearts full of devotion for the revered Machail Mata shrine in Kishtwar's remote Paddar valley. The pilgrimage that began with hope and spiritual fervor on August 14 would soon transform into every parent's worst nightmare.
"Eight of them were walking ahead," Vijay Kumar recounts, his voice barely audible through tears that refuse to stop flowing. "In a heartbeat, everything changed. The mountain roared, the earth shook, and my world collapsed."
The cloudburst struck Chishoti village with biblical fury, unleashing a torrent of icy boulders, uprooted trees, and debris that swept away everything in its path—including eight precious souls from Banagarh.
Vijay Kumar "Eight of them were walking ahead. In a heartbeat, everything changed. The mountain roared, the earth shook, and my world collapsed."
"My mother Jeeto Devi... my children... they were just ahead of us," he whispers, his eyes staring into a distance that holds only memories now. "I keep thinking I'll wake up from this nightmare, that I'll hear their voices calling my name."
Walking through Banagarh today feels like moving through a living memorial. Every doorway frames a face etched with worry, every gathering hums with anxious conversation about the missing eight. The village's 2,000 residents have collectively held their breath for fifth successive day, waiting for news that seems increasingly unlikely to bring comfort.
Raj Kumar, a neighbor whose own eyes are rimmed red with sleepless nights, speaks for the entire community: "We're not just hoping anymore—we're begging the heavens for a miracle. These aren't just missing persons to us; they're our children, our mothers, our friends."
Women in traditional attire sit in small circles outside their homes, prayer beads moving through weathered fingers as they recite verses for the safe return of their loved ones. The men pace restlessly, phones pressed to their ears, desperately seeking updates from rescue teams battling treacherous conditions in Kishtwar. |
