Bisma Shabir
In the beautiful yet troubled landscape of Anantnag, elderly women remain some of the least seen and heard members of society. These women, who spent their lives raising families, looking after others, and managing homes, now face their later years with very little support, recognition, or comfort.
As they grow older, their world often becomes smaller. Their names disappear from discussions on development, their needs are rarely taken seriously, and their lives quietly move to the margins. But their stories—often shared in soft voices and half-finished sentences, tell us a lot about what it means to grow old as a woman in this region.
A Life of Care, without Care in Return
Most elderly women in Anantnag continue to work at home even in their old age. They cook, clean, and take care of grandchildren—not always because they want to, but because they feel expected to. Many women believe they must remain “useful” to the family, even if they are unwell or physically weak.
The problem is not just the work, but the lack of help or understanding they receive in return. These women are seen as givers, not as people who also need care. As a result, many of them suffer in silence, both physically and emotionally.
Whether a woman is married, widowed, or never married makes a big difference in how she experiences old age. For widows, the loss of a spouse is not just emotional but deeply structural. Many find themselves financially dependent on sons or other male relatives, their autonomy eroded further by the absence of property or income. Women who never married face a different kind of challenge. They usually live with siblings or extended family and are often treated kindly. But they, too, feel left out during family gatherings, and many worry they are a burden.
Education, Health and Property
Most elderly women in this region never went to school. In their time, girls were rarely allowed to study, especially in rural areas. This lack of education still affects their lives. Many can’t read medicine labels, understand government schemes, or make decisions on their own. But a few women who did receive an education, like retired teachers or those who learned a skill, are managing better. They have pensions or small incomes, they feel more confident, and they can take care of themselves to some extent. Their stories show how even a little education can make a big difference in old age.
Where women live also shapes their experience of ageing. In villages, basic services like healthcare and transport are often far away. Many elderly women rely on family members to take them to the doctor or the market. Yet village life also brings strong community ties, neighbours check in on each other, and social bonds are more personal. In towns, women live closer to hospitals and shops but often feel lonelier. Nuclear families and busy lives leave little room for the elderly. The quiet isolation in a house full of people is something many elderly women described.
Very few elderly women in Anantnag own property or land. Traditionally, sons inherit property, not daughters. Without a house or land in their name, older women depend on others, mostly sons, for money, care, and decisions. Some women who own property or receive a pension from earlier jobs feel more secure. They can hire help if needed and don’t feel completely dependent. But most are not so fortunate. And when relationships inside the house turn bitter, especially with daughters-in-law, this dependency becomes a source of pain.
Trauma and Solace
Living in Kashmir also means living through years of unrest and violence. Many elderly women have lost children to conflict. Some have experienced raids, migration, or long-term fear. These experiences don’t just go away. Women shared stories of sleepless nights, flashbacks, and deep sadness. Most have never spoken to a counsellor or therapist, and mental health support is rare. Instead, they turn to religion. Prayer, fasting, and spiritual routines give them peace. For some, it is the only way they manage the pain.
Families are still the main source of care for elderly women. But not all families offer the same kind of love or support. Some women are cared for well by their sons and daughters-in-law. Others are neglected or made to feel unwanted. Most women said they would never go to an old-age home, even if they were unhappy at home. It is seen as shameful or disrespectful to leave the family in old age. The idea of moving out is still very hard to accept, both socially and emotionally.
Despite all these challenges, many elderly women continue to find strength in everyday life. Some still do embroidery, run small home businesses, or help on the farm. Others grow vegetables, attend weddings, or share stories with grandchildren. These acts, though small, give them a sense of purpose. For many, it is the only way to feel useful, connected, and seen.
The lives of elderly women in Anantnag reflect a mix of love and neglect, tradition and change, silence and strength. They are central to homes and families, yet often forgotten in planning, policy, and public conversations.
What they want is simple: to live with dignity, to feel heard, and to receive the care they have spent their lives giving to others. Ageing should not feel like fading away. It should be a time of respect, rest, and recognition. For that to happen, families, communities, and institutions must do better. We must listen more, support more, and value the elderly not just as people who once gave, but as people who still deserve.
Bisma Shabir is a sociologist specializing in gerontology and qualitative research. She recently submitted her Ph.D. at Aligarh Muslim University, focusing on the socio-economic and health experiences of elderly women in Anantnag, Jammu and Kashmir. Views expressed are personal.
Image: freepik.com
0 Comments