Traumatised quake-affected children being brought to normalcy

Though the school, overlooking the picturesque Jhelum valley, is functioning out of a makeshift tin structure, erected in the playground, and the pupils are in attendance, there is an unsettling quiet.

Teachers are not teaching them lessons but trying to engage the children in recreational activities to restore some semblance of normalcy among the quake-traumatised pupils.

''We are trying to bring the children back to school to divert their mind from the tragedy that has befallen all of us... They are in a very fragile state...'' says Abdul Rashid Mir, a senior teacher at the remote hill-top school, about 100 kilometres from Uri.

''They need a helping hand and psychological healing and we have made a small start towards that... whatever is left of our future generation should be taken care of,'' adds Mir, who has taught in the school for more than a year.

Mir also points out they are trying to cope with an another problem after the quake...the children just chasing aid vehicles as soon as they see them coming into their villages, resulting in fatal injuries to many of them.

Health Department officials have also expressed grave concern over the psychological condition of the young survivors of the quake.

A senior doctor told UNI that the impact of the death and destruction on the minds of the children will be long-term and the scars will take time to go away.

On the morning of October 8, the school had full attendance of almost 200 students, below 12 years of age, when the 7.6 magnitude killer quake struck northern Kashmir and its adjoining areas.

Fortunately, all escaped with minor wounds as they ran out to the playground to see the building of their school crumble in a heap of rubble in a few seconds.

Books, bags, charts and other study material are still lying in the debris of the school, which reopened just 16 days after the temblor. The government decided to open all state run schools in the quake-ravaged areas of Uri and Tangdhar.

In the makeshift school, sixth standard pupils, Mohammad Sajjad and Suhail, are just fiddling with the paper and pencils provided to them for drawing. Toys, pencils and recreational material does not interest them.

Ten-year-old Nasreen is sitting alone on the porch of the collapsed building and looking at the mountains. She has a rag-doll and some crayons and paper besides her but barely touched them. Any attempt to speak with her is only to be met with a blank stare in response.

After a few seconds she goes back to staring at the mountains overlooking her school dotted with razed villages.