Days before Eid, 40 homeless families in Anantnag’s old town stare at bleak future

Anantnag, Mar 21: The narrow, dingy by-lane of Gajinag-Kadipora, nestled at the foothills in Anantnag’s old town, now stands as a haunting reminder of devastation. Thick smoke still lingers in the air, and the pungent smell of charred wood fills the lungs of those who once called this place home. On the fateful afternoon of March 20, a raging inferno tore through the heart of this centuries-old settlement, reducing nearly the entire neighborhood to ashes. Over forty families, who had little to begin with, now have nothing at all.

Their homes, built of aged wood and clay, could not withstand the merciless flames. With Eid just days away, what was once a time of joyous preparation has turned into a period of deep sorrow? Laughter has been replaced by quiet despair.

For now, the displaced families find themselves huddled in tents set up in the nearby Ranibagh garden, while others have taken shelter in the already cramped homes of kind-hearted neighbors. But how long can such generosity endure? “Whatever little we owned is gone,” laments Abdul Salam Nanwai, 65, his weary eyes narrating the story of loss and uncertainty. His two sons, both daily wage laborers—one an auto driver—were already struggling to make ends meet. “Relief is coming in, but without proper shelter, where will we go?” Salam asked.

Shabir Ahmad Nanwai, 40, another victim of the fire, shares a similar plight. As an auto driver, he barely managed to provide for his wife and two young children. “Their books, their clothes, school uniform—everything was turned to ash,” he says, his voice heavy with grief.

“Now, on top of daily expenses, I have to rebuild my home. How will I ever manage?” His brother, Imran, an electrician, has lost not just his home but also his tools—the very means of his livelihood. “I have a wife, a daughter, and an elderly mother to look after. How will I start from nothing?” he sighs, standing amidst the rubble.

However, even in this tragedy, hope has not completely faded. Local volunteer groups—Darul Khariya-Biatul Maal Khanabal and Syed u Saadat Trust Malakhnag—have stepped in, providing relief materials and arranging Sehri and Iftari for the victims. Mohalla committees have mobilised, ensuring that no one goes to sleep hungry. The spirit of community, though shaken, remains unbroken. “We won’t rest until we rebuild their homes, brick by brick,” vows Farooq Ahmad Reeshi, a local Mosque head, his determination resolute.

Back in the smoldering remains of their homes, men, women, and children sift through the debris, desperately hoping to salvage something—anything—from the ruins. Among them, a woman stands with tears in her eyes. “Our children were looking forward to Eid. Now, instead of new clothes and sweets, all they have is grief.” Aarif Reshi, whose home narrowly escaped the fire, shakes his head in despair. “Most of the people here are daily wagers. They barely managed to survive before this disaster. Now, I wonder how they will ever rebuild their lives.”