“I know the history of India and Pakistan is replete with mistrust and broken promises, but I appeal in the name of humanity: please don’t continue to deprive my children of their father,” pleads Ayesha Latif, spouse of Shafique Awan, a trucker from Azad Jammu and Kashmir (AJK), imprisoned in India-held Kashmir for the past one year for drug trafficking.

“He was earning halal rizq for his family. He is being made to suffer for no fault of his,” she says, holding back her tears, as we talk at her residence situated behind the officers’ colony in Muzaffarabad.

Forty-two-year-old Awan, who belongs to Sarrar village on the outskirts of Muzaffarabad, was arrested by Indian authorities last year on Jan 17 because, according to them, the consignment in his truck — almonds — also contained 114 packets of heroin.

Earlier that day, 49 truckers from AJK and 27 from IHK had ferried trade goods to the opposite sides through the Chakothi-Uri crossing point under the intra-Kashmir trade, launched in October 2008 as a Kashmir-specific Confidence Building Measure between India and Pakistan.

However, Awan’s is the story of the never-ending trust deficit and blame game between the two countries. It also reflects the incompetence and indifference of Pakistan’s institutions, the fallout of which is being faced by Awan’s hapless family: his wife, two daughters and as many sons.

Following the stand-off on the issue, both the trans-LoC trade and travel were suspended and not only Awan but the remaining truckers and their vehicles were also stuck on the opposite sides.

Travel resumed on Feb 3, 2014, and was followed, after nine days, by the repatriation of all stranded drivers on either side along with their vehicles, except for Awan.

By the end of February trade was restored as well, and continues ever since, barring some hiccups.

But Awan continues to languish in an IHK prison. Initially, traders and truckers raised a lot of hue and cry for his release, but as time went by the enthusiasm to secure his release has waned.

“It’s been one long year without him. Only I know how difficult it is for a woman to cope with men-specific issues on a daily basis,” says Ayesha.

The trauma of their father’s arrest has disturbed the children, particularly the girls, Laiba, 15, and Kainat, 12.

“My daughters used to be bright students. But they were unable to do well in their last annual exams held shortly after this episode,” she recalls.

“The next annual exam is approaching and their father is still away,” she adds.

Both girls were initially reluctant to join the conversation, as according to Ayesha, it brings back their painful memories.

But when I insist, they enter the room and sit alongside their mother on a sofa, preferring to remain quiet. They are carrying portraits of their father.

Ayesha says the last time they had any contact with Awan was around two months ago, when they received the last of his three letters from the prison.

“I did nothing or see anything [wrong] … you take good care of the children,” she reads excerpts from his last letter.

Awan’s letter was in response to a letter penned earlier by Laiba. “Abbu, you are guiltless and our prayers are with you … we miss you very much. Everybody here is taking care of us, you look after yourself,” Laiba recalls, but then breaks down, tears rolling down her cheeks. Saddened, I change the topic as she leaves the room.

The entire family is at a loss to understand how a vehicle carrying such a huge cache of contraband goods that must have been scanned at the Chakothi terminal was allowed to pass through.

“My husband owned neither the truck nor the consignment. He was just a carrier. He has been made a scapegoat. Why don’t they [authorities] arrest the actual culprits?” she asks.

Her argument reminds me of the statement of retired Brig Muhammad Ismail, the then head of the AJK government’s Travel and Trade Authority, that the drivers are mere carriers of “sealed, scanned and certified” consignments from one terminal to the other under police escort, and if any consignment contains contraband goods, it is not the driver’s concern, but someone else’s responsibility who should be penalised.

One year down the line, not a single authority has bothered to take Awan’s family on board regarding the status and progress on his case, let alone offer them any financial assistance, something they are in dire need of.

“Perhaps it is because my husband is not a VIP but a daily wage earner,” muses 35-year-old Karachi-born Ayesha.

Ismail’s successor, Imtiaz Wyne, stresses the government should conduct a serious, comprehensive and speedy investigation to resolve the issue.

“We cannot arrive at a conclusion without an investigation. In fact we cannot say with certainty that the driver is innocent. He has been used, whether knowingly or unknowingly. An investigation will clarify whether he is involved or not.”

Wyne also says the government arranged a lawyer for Awan in India.

However, when I talk to Foreign Office spokesperson Tasneem Aslam over the phone, she denies the hiring of a lawyer, because “India has yet to initiate the legal process and investigation, despite Pakistan’s regular reminders”.

“If an investigation has to be conducted, it must be held here, so that we can identify people who have done this. But India is not accepting our demand. We are, however, pursuing the case. It’s not like we have forgotten it.”

Published in Dawn January 18th , 2015

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