Kuwait calling, former hostages in a bind

Though such nightmares have become ‘‘part and parcel’’ of their lives, they are ambivalent about the deliverance.

Sitting on a charpoy in the verandah of his small three-room house in nondescript Dharampur village in Himachal’s Una district, Tilak Raj tells The Indian Express: ‘‘We have been through hell and seen death up close, but at times I have this strong urge of going back. Whatever happened, at least we got money. Look at me now, I am jobless. The state government has completely forgotten us’’.

In front of him lies a postcard, sent by the Nangal-based Soni Placement agency — which had got him a job with Kuwait & Gulf Link Transport Company in December 2003. He has been asked to report for a screening programme to recruit truck drivers for Kuwait.

Last September, when they came back home, Tilak Raj, Antaryami and Sukhdev were on cloud nine. After all the sleepless nights in captivity and continuous fear of death, coming back to loved ones meant the world.

But after the hoopla died down, all three were left to fight the same joblessness and despair that had driven them to Kuwait.

‘‘I personally went to meet the officials so many times… and they refused to meet us. After all the hollow promises about providing jobs, they now treat us like untouchables,’’ says frail Sher Singh, Sukhdev’s father, wiping off tears with the end of his tattered kurta.

From the courtyard of his two-room house in Ropar’s Makraunda Kalan village, Sukhdev stares vacantly at the overcast sky.

Pacifying his ailing father, he says: ‘‘I will wait for some more time. If nothing happens, I will be left with no other option but to go abroad again. May be even to Kuwait. I still have a loan of Rs 2 lakh to repay. We had to sell off some land. And I had taken an additional loan of nearly Rs 1 lakh to pay the contractor for going abroad…’’

Kuwait. Again?

‘‘Kya kare, aap bataon. Dar to lagta hi hain magar jaana to paregahi na. Pet ka sawal hai,’’ he gives you a piercing look.

While Tilak Raj keeps himself busy running errands for his three children — Vandana, Vishal and Babita — and helping out his wife in the kitchen garden, Antaryami — some 30 kilometres away — has taken to farming full-time.

‘‘Whatever happened to us cannot be expressed in words… My father has made endless rounds of the government offices. Now he has stopped going. You know how difficult it is to sustain yourself without a job’’.

Farming is no substitute, especially when one has hardly a few acres, he says. ‘‘At least we were getting properly paid in Iraq and Kuwait. In fact, we used to get additional six dinars a day for going to Iraq. I have even met Chief Minister Virbhadra Singh. The state had given us Rs 1 lakh — most of which was spent to do-up the house and repay loans. I have given up all hope now,’’ says Antaryami, clearing off the undergrowth in his little patch of green.

Tilak Raj tells of others who come to seek his advice on whether it is all right to go abroad for work. ‘‘If it is Kuwait, I tell them no, as they too, might be forced to go Iraq. But then Kuwait is where the money is. If they live here, what will they do?’’

For months, he has been waiting for a call letter from the government.

‘‘I haven’t even taken a private job — which would involve driving off to Delhi or Punjab for days — fearing that if the letter comes, it might be too late by the time I get it. In retrospect, I think I should have taken up the Soni Placement Agency offer…’’ his voice trails off. For these three – who became the flashpoint of world media after they were abducted on July 21, 2004 — the war is far from over.