From Mauj to Victim: Silent Screams behind Closed Doors!!

Majid Marouphay

 

“It is increasingly common to see ailing mothers spend their final years in the modest homes of married daughters, while educated and socially respected sons choose distance, excuses, or abandonment.”

In Kashmir, a land known for ‘adab, tehzeeb’ and centuries-old traditions of respect, the incidents of violence against women stands as a painful contradiction. From the narrow lanes of old downtowns to remote villages tucked between mountains, women – young and old, healthy or frail are increasingly living under an invisible siege. Domestic violence, psychological abuse, and social intimidation have become disturbingly frequent, often inflicted by those bound to them by blood or trust.

 

The recent spine-chilling murder of an elderly woman in north Kashmir’s Baramulla district, after she remained missing for months, shook the Valley. Yet beneath this shock lies a bitter truth. Such incidents are grim reminders of a deeper moral erosion. Preliminary reports indicate that the aged woman had sustained grievous injuries and that her body was allegedly dumped beneath grass in a cowshed – an act that reflects not only extreme brutality but utter moral bankruptcy. While panic and anguish have gripped the public, people repose full faith in the professionalism and integrity of law-enforcement agencies to thoroughly investigate the case, unearth the truth, and bring the perpetrators to justice. At this critical juncture, justice must not only be done but must be seen to be done, so that public confidence is reinforced and such crimes are deterred through swift and exemplary legal action.

 

In Kashmir, where elders were once revered as ‘buzurg’ and women addressed with dignity as ‘mouj, hamshera, or deid, their lives today are often reduced to vulnerability and silence. Many elderly women today face the harshest form of cruelty not in dark alleys but within their own homes. They are rebuked for their frailty, scolded for their dependence, and treated as burdens once they cease to be ‘useful.’ Some endure physical violence – pushed, slapped, or roughly handled, while others suffer a more insidious abuse: denial of food, proper clothing, medical care, and dignity. Their pain remains largely invisible because it unfolds behind closed doors. It is a disturbing sight, yet increasingly common, to see ailing and aged mothers spending their final years not in the homes of their sons but in the modest households of their married daughters, despite cultural norms that place parental care primarily on sons. These daughters, often with limited means, absorb the emotional and financial strain, while sons, educated, employed, and socially respected choose distance, excuses or outright abandonment.

 

Even more painful is the hypocrisy that accompanies this neglect. Many of those who desert their aged mothers are individuals of status, government employees, professionals, community influencers, and even those who regularly preach morality from pulpits. By day, they sermonise about ethics, family values, and religious duty; by night, their own mothers sleep hungry, unattended, or emotionally shattered under the same roof or worse, elsewhere.

 

The Qur’an speaks with piercing clarity on this matter: ‘Your Lord has decreed that you worship none but Him, and that you show kindness to parents. If one or both of them reach old age with you, do not say to them even ‘uff,’ nor repel them, but speak to them noble words’ (Surah Al-Isra 17:23). How far we have drifted from this command, where elderly mothers are silenced, scolded, and made to feel unwanted. Islam places immense emphasis on care in old age, especially for mothers. The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) said: ‘Paradise lies beneath the feet of mothers.’ Yet for many Kashmiri mothers, old age feels closer to abandonment than paradise. Neglect of aged women is not only emotional, it is material. Many are inadequately fed, poorly clothed even in harsh winters, and denied timely medical attention. Their illnesses are dismissed as inconvenience, their needs seen as excess. This is a form of violence as damaging as physical assault, and one that erodes the moral foundation of society.

 

Kashmiri culture once upheld reverence for elders, seeing their presence as ‘rehmat’. Today, that reverence is fading under the weight of materialism, ego, and convenience. Mothers who spent their lives cooking, cleaning, sacrificing, and praying for their children are now made to justify their existence. The Qur’an sternly warns against such oppression: ‘And do not wrong people of their rights’ (Surah Ash-Shu‘ara 26:183). Oppression within the home, especially against the weak and dependent, carries grave accountability.

 

The suffering of our women thus spans a lifetime. from harassment and discrimination in youth, to professional suppression in workplaces, to neglect and abuse in old age. A woman is expected to endure silently at every stage: as a daughter, as a wife, as a worker, and finally as a mother whose worth is measured by her dependency. A society that claims moral superiority while its mothers cry in silence stands exposed in its duplicity. Faith cannot be selective. Ethics cannot end at the mosque door. Respect for women cannot be performative.

 

Kashmir has survived decades of uncertainty, but the abandonment of its mothers is a wound we inflict upon our own soul. Protecting aged women is not charity. It is obligation. It is faith. It is humanity. Until our mothers are fed before they ask, cared for before they fall ill, and respected simply because they gave us life, our sermons, slogans, and social status ring hollow. When did mothers, who braved the fiercest storms of life for their children, who slept hungry so their children could eat, who stitched dreams out of their own shattered hopes become a burden in their fading years? When did the hands that once wiped our tears start trembling, not with age alone, but with neglect?

 

The measure of a society is not how loudly it preaches morality, but how gently it treats its weakest especially its mothers. A society that recites the Qur’an, celebrates ‘Urs and Milad’ and prides itself on moral superiority cannot turn a blind eye to the tears of its women. Faith loses its meaning when cruelty thrives under its shadow.

 

 

The author is a teacher and can be reached at khanmarouphay@gmail.com