Between Promises & Reality: Lessons From Srinagar Boat Tragedy

By Asma Majid

Srinagar- The old woman’s frail frame trembles as she sits amidst the squalor, her worn chappals sinking into the damp earth beside the putrid mound of garbage. The fetid stench of rotting waste fills the air, but she doesn’t flinch, her senses numbed by the anguish that consumes her. Tear-stained and red-rimmed, her eyes stare into the murky Jhelum waters, hoping her son will surface.

As she sits there, her wails pierce the desolate landscape, echoing off the trees and the half-completed bridge that looms yonder, its unfinished structure a sordid reminder of the life her son will never get to build, its presence a cruel taunt that deepens her anguish. She rocks back and forth, her grey hair disheveled, her wrinkled hands clasped together in a futile plea. Tears stream down her weathered cheeks, mixing with the dust and grime on her face.

“Khudaya, my son! My child! Why did you leave?” she laments, her voice cracking with each sob. “What will we do without you? Who cares for us now?”

The garbage mound beside her seems to mock her grief, its discarded remnants insinuating at life’s fleeting nature. A tattered shoe, a broken toy, a shattered vase – each bear witness to a world that callously marched forward, indifferent to the woman’s grief. 

A grief that struck the village of Gandbal like thunder on the fateful morning of April 16, 2024, a grief that engulfed all and sundry in and around the village, a devastating tragedy that unfolded in plain sight, left a trail of horror and gloom on all those who witnessed it and those who merely heard about it. A boat, teeming with innocent lives – including school children, their parents, and laborers – catastrophically capsized mere meters from the Batwara banks of Srinagar’s Smart City. The vessel, en route from Gandbal on the opposite bank, met its doomed fate, claiming precious lives in the process.

Four months have passed, yet the anguish remains as fresh as the day it began, for the painful reminder of that fateful day still stands, neglected and unaddressed. 

The incomplete Gandbal-Batwara bridge has become a menacing reminder of the catastrophe with its unfinished design constantly nudging the memory of the local people, twisting the knife in their wounds and persisting them into agony and sorrow of the acutest kind.

Meanwhile, the residents of Samarbugh, Lasjan, a kilometer away from Gandbal, express the fear that their locality is grappling with post the Gandbal tragedy. With their own reliance on a ferryboat service to cross the river, they can’t help but feel a sense of shared vulnerability and heightened concern for their safety.

Waseem Magray, a resident of the area, voices his concern.

“The authorities attributed the Gandbal tragedy to a swollen Jhelum due to incessant rains. But the truth is, Kashmir’s weather has become increasingly unpredictable, with frequent bursts of torrential rain. The Jhelum swelling is no surprise to us. Our fear is that we’ll suffer the same fate as the people of Gandbal.”

Magray shares how the Gandbal tragedy has led to a surge in parental anxiety, with many becoming overly cautious and protective of their children. In the wake of this devastating incident, they cannot bear the thought of putting their children’s lives at risk, no matter how small the chance, and are therefore taking extra precautions to ensure their safety. The unbearable thought of their children meeting the same fate as the Gandbal children, who lost their lives in the tragic accident, has made them resolute – they can no longer tolerate the deprivation of a bridge and are demanding action to ensure their children’s safe passage.

Showkat Ahmad Kuchay, another resident and a government employee speaks with a mix of frustration and helplessness.

“Every March, we dutifully pay our taxes, entrusting our hard-earned money to the very system we serve. But the irony is palpable – the projects we fund remain stuck in limbo, perpetually ‘under construction’.”

Kuchay grumbles, “This bridge, for instance, has been ‘under construction’ for 13 long years”, his gaze fixed on the bridge as he recalls thirteen years of broken promises, delayed deadlines, and of lives put on hold.

While showing off his hair, another man gripes, “My entire hair was jet black then. Now, I’m married, my kids are grown up, and I’m going grey, but the bridge remains unfinished.” 

Just then, a wise-cracking Sardar ji, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, chimes in, his voice dripping with sarcasm, as he breaks into a witty ditty:

Taxes Jaari, jab aati public ki baari.

Par jo government ki zimmewari, wo padhti hai unpe bhari!

(Taxes are imposed, when it’s the public’s turn.
What is the government’s responsibility, falls heavily on them!)

In the midst of this chaos, a young girl’s voice breaks through the commotion.

She stands on the riverbank and utters a powerful cry for justice. 

“We shall not be silenced. We shall not be ignored. We demand a bridge, we demand a future.”

For the residents of Gandbal and Samarbugh, infrastructure isn’t just about roads and bridges—it’s about the peace of mind that comes with knowing that their loved ones are safe. The bridge’s incompletion means that daily commutes, simple as they may seem, are fraught with anxiety and fear. Parents, like those in Gandbal, who now live in constant fear of another tragedy, are forced to take extra precautions, altering their daily lives in profound ways. The lack of proper infrastructure has seeped into the very fabric of their lives, affecting their mental health and altering their behavior. 

As the days turn into weeks, and the weeks into years, the weight of this uncertainty bears down on the local people, leaving an indelible mark on their collective psyche. The streets of Gandbal and Samarbugh echo with the whispers of worry, as families huddle together, sharing stories of near-misses and narrow escapes. The local markets wear a subdued air, as traders and customers alike are preoccupied with the nagging fear of the unknown. The children too, have grown accustomed to this atmosphere of apprehension, their laughter and play punctuated by the constant fear of an impending danger. Their parents’ concerns have grown into their own as they traverse the perilous terrain of their everyday existence, constantly watching over their shoulders and forever wondering as to when calamity may strike.

Er. Rajandar Kumar Gupta, the Superintending Engineer of R&B Circle, Srinagar South, addresses concerns regarding the repeated delays in completing the Gandbal-Batwara bridge, which has missed several deadlines. He explains that the delays were not due to negligence but rather due to a combination of challenging circumstances.

“The weather has been unpredictable, which has significantly hindered the progress. The work on this bridge is highly technical, and while officers may set deadlines in response to public demands, it is the laborers and masons who face the real challenges on the ground,” Gupta states.

He highlights that logistical difficulties also played a major role in the delays.

“There was no available space to store materials like steel etc. Our workers had to weld every joint and angle iron directly on the bridge, which made the process more time-consuming and tedious. Even now, as we prepare to lay the slab, we are facing issues. There’s no space to unload the necessary materials, and with tippers being restricted during the day, it has become even more difficult to meet the planned schedule.”
However, despite these challenges, Gupta expresses optimism about the project’s completion.

“According to our current progress, the bridge’s completion seems to be just around the corner. We are working diligently to overcome the remaining obstacles, and it looks like the bridge will be open to public use by early September.”

However, he declines to comment on the Samarbugh bridge, stating that it is not under their jurisdiction.

The Gandbal-Batwara or the Samarbugh bridges are not the only ones caught in the quagmire of neglect. Across the length of the Jhelum, numerous bridges were planned, intended to link the two banks of the river for both pedestrians and vehicles, promising to ease transportation, foster economic growth, and unite communities. Yet, many of these bridges, like the afore-mentioned, are languishing in various states of disrepair and their incomplete structures serving as striking symbols of a broader systemic failure. 

In the past decade, the government announced ambitious plans to construct several bridges over the Jhelum, envisioning them as arteries of progress that would revitalize the region. These bridges were to be lifelines, connecting remote villages with the bustling markets and educational institutions on the opposite bank, reducing the travel time, and enhancing the quality of life for thousands. However, reality has painted a different picture. Out of the numerous bridges planned, only a handful have been completed, and those that stand today often do so in isolation, their counterparts on neighboring stretches of the river remaining incomplete or abandoned. 

According to official data from the Roads and Building Department (R&B), the construction of over 15 crucial bridges and approximately seven footbridges remains unfinished, despite work having started more than a decade ago. This widespread stagnation reflects a deeper issue within the region’s infrastructure development, where numerous projects intended to connect communities and enhance daily life have instead been put on ice, leaving residents stranded and frustrated.

Sajad Naqeeb, Chief Engineer of R&B Central Kashmir reveals that the department has launched an initiative aimed at completing the numerous bridges that have been left unfinished assuring that the work on these languishing projects will be completed within the 2024-25 fiscal year.

This initiative follows a significant decision made by the Jammu & Kashmir government in 2018 to address the issue of stalled infrastructure projects. To tackle the problem of projects abandoned due to a lack of funds, the government established the Jammu and Kashmir Infrastructure Development Fund Corporation (JKIDFC). Through this fund, the R&B department identified 622 languishing projects across all districts, approving them at a cost of Rs 1446.73 crore. This strategic move was intended to revive these critical projects, including many of the bridges that have been on the back burner for years, and bring them to completion for the benefit of the local communities.

The Gandbal-Batwara bridge is just one example of a project awaiting action , but it epitomizes a much larger issue—the disconnect between the promises made and the promises kept. Moreover, it illustrates how infrastructure profoundly shapes and impacts human lives. 

Basharat Hussain, a volunteer who helped distribute food items with NGO Athwas in the aftermath of the Gandbal tragedy, has borne witness to the anguished wails of those searching for their loved ones. As a father of two himself, Basharat can’t fathom the unbearable pain of losing a child. Consumed by outrage at the systemic failures that led to the tragedy, he speaks out with a sense of urgency and conviction.

“The narrative of the incomplete bridges is not just about infrastructure; it’s about the broken promises that these structures represent. It’s about the gap between the two banks of the Jhelum that remain unbridged, not just by steel and concrete, but by trust and accountability.”

Hussain adds  “The people have been waiting for years, and with each passing day, the question becomes more urgent: When will the government finally make good on its promises? When will the bridges that were meant to connect, to protect, and to uplift, finally serve their intended purpose?”

Among other things, the Gandbal tragedy has imparted a crucial lesson: Infrastructure is beyond concrete projects because it is what connects communities, drives economic growth, and ensures the safety and well-being of the population. When infrastructure projects are left incomplete, they do more than just mar the landscape—they disrupt lives! The roads that should have made travel easier, the bridges that were supposed to bring people closer together, and the schools and hospitals that were meant to serve the community—all become symbols of unfulfilled potential and lost opportunities. Stalled development projects strand communities in a cycle of stagnation, compelling residents to contend with unsafe roads, rely on outdated facilities, or make do without the essential services that they deserve. These projects, intended to be catalysts for progress, instead become barriers that hold people back, limiting access to education, healthcare, and economic opportunities. 

In the light of the Gandbal tragedy and the broader implications of infrastructure on human lives, Sociologist Dr. Nousheen Fatima observes that the gap between promises and reality goes beyond broken commitments; it is a profound matter of social justice. 

“This disparity hits hardest on those who are already marginalized and vulnerable—people who can’t afford to wait another year for a bridge to be finished or another decade for a hospital to open,” she explains. “For them, infrastructure isn’t just about convenience; it’s a critical factor that directly shapes their lives and determines their futures.”

Dr. Fatima further notes that infrastructure is about more than just building roads or bridges.
“It is about building better lives and ensuring that every person has access to the opportunities and services that they need to thrive. When infrastructure projects are left incomplete, it is not just the physical structure that remains unfinished but the promise of a better life that is left hanging, just out of reach.”

While workers toil on the Gandbal bridge, newspapers lament the missed deadlines, and social media buzzes with debates over the tragedy’s haves and have-nots, the old woman still sits by the Gandbal banks from dawn to dusk as a matter of routine, waiting for her son’s body to surface. As the sun approaches the horizon, she rises, her joints creaking from age and the stiffness of prolonged sitting. She casts one last glance at the incomplete bridge before turning back toward the village, gasps and whispers a prayer, “May the bridges we build connect not just our lands, but our hearts. May they bring us closer to the lives that we deserve!” With that, she fades into the twilight, leaving behind a river that continues to flow and a bridge that stands unfinished.

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