Mohammad Huzaifah Lanker died at the age of 19 in Srinagar, in December 2004. His was not a death brought on by conflict, except indirectly. Jammu & Kashmir provides half of the electricity generated by the National Hydroelectric Power Corporation, but due to the Indus Waters Treaty signed by India and Pakistan in 1960, storage for hydroelectric dams is not allowed. This means that during the winter, when the cold is at its height and the flow of water at its lowest, when Kashmiris need electricity the most, they can’t receive it. Huzi was taking a bath that cold day in December, before Friday prayers. Since electricity was unreliable, the house in which his parents and grandparents lived used a gas-based heater. That day the gas leaked and Huzi died.

Unwilling to let him (or his name) be forgotten, Huzi’s family set up a trust to provide education and medical services to the needy; in some small way, allaying their own hurt by easing the pain of others. This year the trust had additional responsibilities thrust upon it when the floods hit J&K. A combination of freak rainfall, bad town-planning and various failures in responding to the unprecedented circumstances meant large parts of the state were affected, with many areas of Srinagar submerged under 15-20 feet of water. Military helicopters that were pressed into emergency service were often counterproductive, as the backwash from their rotors upended hastily-made rafts, and led to the collapse of houses.

And yet, in the midst of all this, during a flood that was the worst in more than a century, which directly affected more than two million people, with families stranded for days on the roofs of their houses with no food, clean water or medicines, there were comparatively few casualties, numbering in the low hundreds. I travelled to Srinagar a few weeks ago, and was struck by how quickly people had cleaned up the streets — often without much government assistance. At Presentation Convent, the watermark was at more than 15 feet, the principal’s office was pretty much destroyed and stacks of books had been reduced to stinking pulp. But one of the former schoolteachers was helping distribute relief collected by the convent — largely donated by the parents of students.

Other than providing direct relief for the floods, the Huzaifah Lanker Trust was trying another tack. Among those who had lost their homes and livelihoods was Farooq Ahmad. Aged around 55, with four family members to take care of, his home and tailoring shop were ruined by the floods. Bashir Ahmad, a few years older, with a family to feed, suffered a similar fate. Today they are stitching pherans — the warm overcoat-like outer garment worn by Kashmiris during the cold winter months — for other people who have been affected by the floods. This is the outcome of the Stitch One Pheran campaign organised by the Trust to kickstart the local economy. The idea was to buy cloth from local traders, employ local tailors who had lost employment and much else besides, and provide the stitched garments to the needy.

Many of those involved in this initiative were Huzi’s cousins (full disclosure: I am married to one of them); some of them employed or living in places like Bangalore and Delhi, who had in the decade since Huzi’s demise, developed skills and contacts that they now put to use. The people who contributed to make this possible were even more diverse. Kashmiris, both Hindu and Muslim, contributed of course, but so did people from across India. Some chipped in from far-off corners of the world as long as the possession of an Indian passport allowed them to do so legally because of the prohibitions of India’s stringent FEMA laws. What was most appealing for many was that this was not merely an initiative to dole out aid, but a way to help skilled people re-establish themselves through their own hard work.

Too often the names of places like Kashmir come to us through tales of grief. We imagine their residents as people who need help, and pity, because of the travails that press upon and around them. I know of the Huzaifah Lanker Trust’s work because of my personal involvement, but there are many such initiatives, not just in J&K, but also in Assam and Meghalaya, among other places, often working with locals such as Farooq and Bashir Ahmad, who are not content to be merely victims. But with a little help from people who know them, and many who do not, they are willing to work hard to stand on their own two feet. These are the heroes this country throws up day after day against the tragedies that dominate the headlines, and we ignore them, with hardly a line to their name. Today, I would like to recall these names, especially that of Huzi, just once.

(Omair Ahmad is an author. His last book was on Bhutan)

Follow him on Twitter >@OmairTAhmad

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