How ‘100% Vaccination’ Has Become a Couple Goal in Kashmir

Knocking the doors, talking to people, explaining the same thing over and again, convincing them, registering them for the drive, is what the couple has been doing for months now. 

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In a bid to boost the battle against the brutal bug, Naziya Hurra braved brouhaha in the form of street sneers and smirks trying to sabotage her social welfare service.

She shrugged the rancid response—once, twice, thrice…—until it made her think and re-strategize her working style.

As visible in some viral videos — being watched by masses for their amusing vaccine-hesitancy content — she understood that several simpletons of countryside swayed by speculations need compassionate-handling rather than curt policing.

With this resolve, she meanders through meadows and walks into the woods along with her husband to ensure that Kashmir’s peripheral population takes the mandatory shot.

Leaving home in Banyari Bandipora at first light, the newly-wed couple aspires to make a rural pocket placed some 50 kilometres away from Kashmir capital Srinagar as a “100%” vaccinated vista.

They go door to door and approach family to family, to achieve the set target of registering more and more villagers for doses. 

But then the vaccine hesitancy makes it hard, Naziya says. 

“It’s very difficult to change the sweeping perceptions against the Covid shots,” she says.

“Most of the people see this vaccine thing as a conspiracy and the vaccinators conspirators dispatched at their doorsteps. It’s a stark reality showing the trust-deficit on the ground.”

Mindful of this miffed mood, the couple begins with the comforting conversation explaining the importance of vaccination to people and sometimes show them their own vaccination certificates.

These pep-talks before the required-shots do help. Being native, the couple understands the prevailing mindset and uses their acquaintance to tackle the rigidity. It’s like pampering and preparing a stubborn child for some big test and task, Jawhar smiles.

“You need to handle this hesitancy with patience,” he says. “It’s about time and earning trust. We can’t always question people’s responses. It’s all about how you can change their mindset for something good.”

It’s with this belief the couple is working for more than 18 hours a day in the remote rustic area. 

They collect the data before their team members from different areas arrive on the spot and start the process.

At Banyari, the vaccine dislike is discernable. Some women send the couple back from their doorsteps only, while others don’t even give them a chance to speak. Some unwilling listeners look like those desperate-to-run boys caught on the street by some roaming godmen.

“This is what we’re trying to change on the ground,” Naziya says.

Knocking the doors, talking to people, explaining the same thing over and again, convincing them, registering them for the drive, is what the couple has been doing for months now. 

“We may be even getting abuses in return,” Jawhar says, “but it hardly matters because we do it on a humanitarian basis. I know people in my area are not aware. It’ll take some time to make them understand.” 

Behind the ground-guesswork, the couple reckon, are some raging rumours these simpletons listen to every day about the “vaccine-created infertility and gene change”. Even educated among them tend to believe these loose talks. But then, not everyone out there is a hard nut to crack.

“We met this elderly lady lately at her home,” Jawhar says. “She was much more cooperative than the educated people. She even convinced her son to take the jab.” 

However, the worry still remains about the rumour-driven majority dismissing the drive as a ‘hatched plot’. 

Despite these free-flogged notions, the couple along with their team of social workers and volunteers put everyday efforts to get the shots done. But their sudden arrivals in godforsaken grassroots still create reluctance and rage.

“Since people of our area of operation are mainly into chestnut extraction for living, lately, I told a group of around 30 Wular girls to get vaccinated there,” Naziya says. “They refused saying that they were already vaccinated by chestnut spikes!” 

These forswearing, however, makes the couple more resilient. They understand fears about the vaccination process and say, “It’s tough to convince all of them, but then we’ve to keep trying.”

As part of the same persuasion process, the couple tells the villagers that this disease won’t go away without all of them getting jabbed. 

“We tell them that their lives will always be endangered by this virus if any one of them remains unvaccinated,” Jawhar says. 

“It works in many cases, but largely it remains a bumpy ride.” 

Apart from Banyari, the couple is also active in the adjacent areas of Makdooyari, Ajas, Bakshibal and Madwan — the pastoral pockets where “more than 70 per cent” people are yet to be vaccinated. 

The couple, however, claims to have vaccinated about 10 times more people than the government vaccination camp. 

“We’ve successfully vaccinated around 500 individuals of our areas till date,” Naziya says. “But the job is far from over yet.”

The same spirit had previously involved the couple for the community welfare cause.

By early 2020, when the vicious viral disrupted the idea of life and made things untouchable in the society known for its Samaritan spirit during its searing strife phases, Naziya and Jawhar became the selfless warriors.

From facing the scare of the deadly disease to not paying heed to trolls, the couple put extraordinary efforts to help people when hardly anyone was coming forward for aid and assistance. 

During the second wave of pandemic this year, they helped many deprived and destitute families with their fundraising campaigns.

“A disabled lady in her late 60’s came to meet me one day during early 2021,” Naziya recalls. “She was facing some problems while getting a thousand rupees pension from the bank.”

Naziya walked 7 kilometres by foot to reach a wooden shack covered by rags the very next day. The extreme poverty of the disabled lady and her ailing husband made her use social media for fundraising. 

Within 48 hours, she raised Rs 8 lakhs directly into the couple’s bank account. 

Along with destitution, the couple’s combat against the disease equally relieved Bandipora areas of the virus — now fearing to trigger a third wave in the valley. With some urban pockets already facing the fresh clampdown, the couple tries to make the shots pressing for the rural folks. 

“This problem affects all of us,” Naziya says. “So, we have to involve the community to get rid-off ourselves from this menace.”

Of late when a village woman along with her husband was tested positive and faced a near-starvation situation, the couple entered her tin-shed dwelling in masks and gloves to deliver medicine or ration. 

Later Naziya would once again use social media as a tool to raise funds. She mentioned the account details of the beneficiary and raised Rs 6 lakhs in three days for this case.

Narrating these heartwarming stories the couple reaches the doorsteps of another Kashmiri woman. The moment she learns the purpose of their visit, the woman starts dragging her feet. “I don’t think it’s needed,” she tells the couple. “This Covid is a big scam and you people are becoming part of it.”

Such denials, as can be heard from various videos shot by the vaccinators, are quite common. But in the face of these refusals, the couple remains calm and composed.

“Even if we get to face tempers and denials, it gives us peace to approach people for this welfare service,” Naziya says. “Covid has to go and for that, we all need to play our part.”

At dusk, when they finally call it a day, the couple walks back home in a cheerful and somewhat contented mood.

Without each other support, they say, the welfare work wasn’t possible. While Naziya’s “selfless work” inspires Jawhar, his support gives her “courage”. The two happy souls talk their hearts out while walking out of meadows and woods they venture to keep the virus at bay.