When War Knocked at Our Door
A STORY FROM WESTERN RAJASTHAN
By: Manish K. Jha, Education Grant & Capacity Building Program Lead
It was early morning in Jodhpur when the first sirens wailed across the city. At first, I thought it was just another drill. But by noon, the grim truth was undeniable — war had broken out between India and Pakistan. As someone deeply invested in girl child education in the border villages of western Rajasthan, I felt the ground shift beneath my feet. In an instant, our carefully laid plans, dreams stitched into the lives of hundreds of girls, and the quiet progress of empowerment were thrown into chaos.
The Sky Turned Dark
The first few days were a blur. Blackouts were enforced every night. Our villages were plunged into pitch darkness by 6 PM. Girls who had just begun to step into the light — attending Wing to Fly classes, speaking up in community meetings, playing sports — were suddenly silenced by fear.
Missile strikes landed just a few kilometers from some of our learning centers. One evening, during a basic Computer class in a border hamlet, the classroom trembled from a distant blast. The walls cracked; the girls screamed. Their newly gained confidence shattered like the glass windows. Parents, already skeptical about letting their daughter’s study, now refused to send them out. Girls who had just started dreaming of becoming doctors, teachers, or police officers were back to hiding in mud huts, terrified.
Psychological Impact on the Girls
The psychological impact was devastating. Many girls began suffering from nightmares, refusing to eat or speak. One twelve-year-old, Meera, who was preparing for the Navodaya entrance exam, repeatedly asked, “Will the bomb fall on my book too?” Another girl, Rehana, shared to me, “I thought school was my safe place, but now there is no safe place.”
The war had unstitched the sense of safety we had slowly woven into their lives.
Leadership Amidst Fear
In the midst of this terror, we had to rise. WomenServe — working in education and empowerment with a focus on border regions — shifted into emergency mode. We began by converting our education centers into safe community shelters. Our field team, mostly local women, and youth leaders, were trained in basic trauma care, evacuation support, and relief coordination.
We formed Suraksha Circles — small groups of girls and mothers who would stay in constant touch with each other and with us. Using a mix of offline messengers and limited mobile connectivity, we ensured every girl we had ever worked with was accounted for.
We set up Community Training Centers in 5 villages — a humble mix of books, playing materials, and pre-developed modules — and catering to hundreds of girls. In safer areas, we initiated “home based learning centers” where girls from neighborhood would gather discreetly, even during blackouts, to continue their learning. It wasn’t about syllabus completion anymore; it was about restoring dignity, routine, and hope.
The Community Stands Together
Our community stood by us in ways that still move me. Local women helped us in building confidence and created an informal network of “education guardians”, ensuring that no girl was left behind.
Emerging from the Ashes
As the ceasefire was announced weeks later, our work entered a new phase — rebranding not just schools and centers, but the shaken spirits of young girls. We brought in counselors, organized story circles where girls could talk about their experiences, and conducted art therapy workshops.
I remember one photograph vividly: a girl had shared in a group about how they are coming to Wings to Fly Centre for Computer Learning among such chaos. That image said everything we needed to know — the girls had not given up.
Neither had we.
