Amid Danger, Three Nuns Stay to Heal on India-Pakistan Border

Jammu, Nov 15, 2025: On India’s tense border with Pakistan, three Catholic nuns are staying put where most would flee, running a modest hospital that has become a lifeline for villagers of all faiths.

Samba, a small village along the Line of Control, recently experienced one of the region’s most tense conflicts in years. Fighter jets soared above, and the distant rumble of mortars mixed with artillery echoes off the Pir Panjal mountains, signalling a full-scale clash between India and Pakistan — a scenario long feared by many.

Amid the chaos, when thousands of villagers were rushing to safety, three nuns in plain white habits chose to remain at St. Joseph Community Hospital. This two-storey facility, operated by the Jammu-Srinagar Diocese, stands as the only charitable health centre in the area serving the poor.

Sr. Annie Manickathan, the eldest among them, told Global Sisters Report: "If we leave, who will be with them? God sent us here. We cannot go."

Signs of strain are evident throughout the hospital — paint peeling in patches, doors squeaking with every use — reflecting the financial limitations of the facility. Sr. Manickathan described how the hospital’s six departments — gynaecology, medicine, dental, orthopaedics, physiotherapy, and general surgery — function with "frugal resources and extraordinary faith."

For the villagers, the hospital is much more than a building; it is often their last refuge. Many patients are extremely poor, including migrants, daily-wage workers, and widows. "Some don't even have five rupees. For such people, we give medicines free," she said.

"Many are regulars, lonely, sick and abandoned. When they get better, they smile. When they bless us with tears in their eyes … that is enough. That is what keeps us going," Sr. Manickathan told GSR.

Despite being more than 3,250 km from her home state of Kerala, she has never considered returning. Her decades-long journey of service has taken her from Patiala in Punjab to New Delhi, and now to the remote border village of Samba. Since joining the Sisters of Charity of Jesus and Mary in 1983, in her late teens, "I only wanted one thing: to offer myself to the service of others," she said.

One particular case she often recalls involved a woman with a complex orthopaedic injury that twisted her leg. Larger hospitals had refused to operate, calling the surgery "too risky." With support from a doctor friend and careful management of expenses, St. Joseph Community Hospital successfully performed the procedure. Months later the patient left the hospital in tears of joy.

"That," Sr. Manickathan said, "was when I realised even the smallest hospital could be a place where God heals."

While Sr. Manickathan is deeply rooted in Samba, Sr. Lilly Thomas is still finding her footing in Jammu district. She arrived only a month after the war ended, transferred from New Delhi’s Holy Family Hospital, where she had supervised the intensive care unit.

Sr. Thomas admitted feeling anxious about moving to an area known for conflict. "My family was not happy. They told me, 'Why do you want to go to Jammu? It is dangerous. Tell your superiors no.'"

"But when our superiors send us, we go," she said.

Having worked in Amritsar before New Delhi, Sr. Thomas is no stranger to tensions along the border. During drone attacks, she recalls sleepless nights spent hiding bedridden sisters in the corners of the convent.

"For myself, I was not afraid. But I worried about the others, like what if something happens, how will I protect them? We just prayed."

In Samba, Sr. Thomas appreciates the simplicity and warmth of the villagers. "Not like Delhi, where everyone is busy. Here, they have time to talk, to share their joys and sorrows. That is a gift," she said.

Sr. Anita Minj, from Jharkhand, has been serving in Samba for eight years. Before joining the hospital, she ran a government skill development project that worked with young dropouts from ninth and tenth grades, training and guiding them with discipline and care. Many of these youths are now employed, married, and return to greet her.

"When they see me, they shout from the road, 'Sister! Sister!' It feels like I have brothers and sisters everywhere," she said.

The nuns note that their service conveys God’s message in a district where Christians are a small minority.

"I don't believe in preaching. If, through my work, they see something divine, that is enough," Sr. Manickathan said.

Hindus make up 85% of Jammu district’s 1.5 million residents, according to the 2011 census. Muslims and Sikhs account for 15%, with Christians and others forming the remaining 1%.

"I never ask anyone to change faith. My only hope is that they see God in the way I speak, act, and care," Sr. Manickathan added.

For Sr. Thomas, her focus remains on continuing Jesus’ healing ministry. "That is all I want to do — heal with my hands, my words, my presence."

For Sr. Minj, the gospel is shown through acceptance. "Here, almost no one I interact with is Christian. Yet they welcome us as sisters. That itself is proof that love is stronger than religion."

Despite their calm exterior, the nuns face constant danger. The Samba belt is frequently targeted by cross-border shelling. Houses collapse under mortar fire, schools double as shelters, and lives are lost without warning.

During the four-day May conflict, entire villages were evacuated, and bunkers were filled with frightened families.

"We were also afraid. But leaving was never an option. If a patient knocks in the middle of the night, who will open the door?" Sr. Manickathan told GSR. "When you have given your life to God, you cannot think of yourself."

During the fighting, the hospital became a sanctuary. Women arrived with babies wrapped in tattered shawls, men limped in with shrapnel wounds, medicines ran low, and power lines were down — yet the nuns refused to close the doors.

"We stayed awake many nights. The sound of bombs was very near. Still, if someone came bleeding, we could not say no. Each night we prayed to see the next morning," Sr. Minj said.

"If we rely only on our power and human instinct, we would run away. But when you remember why you have come, fear does not win," Sr. Thomas added.

Religious divisions in the region fade outside the hospital doors, as Hindus, Muslims, and Sikhs wait in line with equal trust.

"They call us didi or sister," said Sr. Minj.

"No one asks what our religion is. In pain, everyone is the same," Sr. Manickathan said.

One woman whose child was saved during a difficult delivery visits frequently to express her gratitude. Another, once bedridden, now walks miles just to sit and talk with the sisters.

Amid Danger, Three Nuns Stay to Heal on India-Pakistan Border

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