Shayista with her children at her parents? home in Doda. Telegraph picture

Doda, Feb. 9 : Being married to Shakeel Ansari was quite like being the wife of Vito Corleone in his start-up days.

Young girls in the neighbourhood would take care to be seen around Shayista Naseem only in a burqa. The more awed would say prayers to keep on the right side of the wife of a militant leader.

Shakeel and Shayista set up home in Srinagar after marrying in 2000, the 24-year-old woman a willing bride to a militant who was the so-called deputy commander of the Hizb-ul Mujahideen, Kashmir?s top rebel group.

There was danger in that life, but there was also veneration for the queen of the mohalla. Shayista was also as pretty as they come in these verdant mountains.

Now, 28 and still breathtakingly beautiful, tall and thin, she?s back in her parents? home in this remote hilly area of Doda ? alone with three children, the oldest three-and-a-half years old and the youngest just two months ? a militant?s widow.

Four years after their marriage, last summer Shakeel died, killed in an encounter with the security forces. Shayista would have been pregnant with her son at the time.

?Lab pe aati hai dua banke tamanna meri, zindagi shama ki surat ho Khudaya meri. (My desires are on my lips as prayers, life should be as bright as light my lord.)?

?Shall I say it again?? asks Ikra Shakeel, the oldest of her children, at three-and-a-half young enough to be eager to show off her knowledge when offered a candy.

At mid-afternoon, the day was clear with sunlight bathing the snow-covered mountains to the north. A chilly wind blew across the lawn of a relative?s house where Shayista had agreed to meet.

Life was as bright as light when Shayista, still in school, was betrothed to Shakeel. When she was grown enough to fathom the dangers of being the wife of a militant ? by the time of the marriage Shakeel had become one ? not only did she not change her mind, but was also quite thrilled to link her life with that of a mujahid.

Her parents, too, blessed the wedding. They all knew that the life of a militant?s wife is like ?patte pe pani (dew on a leaf)?, as Shayista herself said. Still, she said: ?It was not a mistake.?

For a minute she lifted the veil of her burqa, revealing an extremely fair face with a sharp nose and brown piercing eyes shaded by long lashes.

That drop of displaced dew has rolled with Shayista, Ikra, two-year-old Shafa and Chotu, who is yet to be formally named, to stop at Doda town overlooking the Chenab. Shayista?s father works on his farm of 5,500 square yards on the edge of the town and feeds the expanded family.

?I have to take care of my children. I want to make the eldest (Ikra) a doctor,? she said.

Unlike Shayista?s, the stream of Shakeela Akhtar?s life was forcibly diverted. She was married off to the commander of Al-Jehad, another militant group, under duress in the presence of two or three other rebels in a mosque. Her parents were arm-twisted into consenting to the wedding.

Like Shayista, Shakeela is a widow today with two little daughters to raise. Like Shayista, she?s still in her twenties, young enough to marry again.

No one will court her ? the widow of terror. If marriage is too much to expect, a little help may not be. Even those that are willing are afraid of being asked why because of the stigma Shakeela carries. There is also the fear of being hounded by the security forces.

Shakeela is also one of those women ? and they are not few in Doda ? who was not the only wife of her late husband.

For the husband?s family, there are too many daughters-in-law widowed by their son to support. So Shakeela had to knock on the door of her parents who are daily wage labourers at Thathri village, 15 km north of Doda town.

Some have learnt lessons from Shakeela and others like her. Mumtaz Begum?s brother fled his village with his family once he found out militants wanted to marry his two daughters.?It is better to live in penury than in luxury with tension all the time,? she said.

Luxury is a strange word to use to describe life with a militant.

Like her brother, many are fleeing their villages and marrying their daughters off in towns, willing even to make labourers their sons-in-law.

?After all, there is some certainty in life. It would not be a life on the run. Nor would it be riddled with the anxiety of the news of death coming any moment,? Mumtaz said.