TWO years ago the Melody Cinema in the heart of Islamabad’s most popular bazaar was a place where Pakistanis watched their favourite film stars cavorting on a giant screen. Then Islamic zealots set it on fire, reducing it to little more than a charred shell.

Today the Melody serves a very different purpose. Partially refurbished and renamed the Melody Relief and Rehabilitation Centre, it has been turned into a makeshift hospital caring for 53 women and girls whose backs were broken in the Pakistan earthquake.

At 13 Sadaf is the youngest patient. She was one of ten children injured when their school collapsed in the village of Chikar in Pakistan-controlled Kashmir. Piled on her bedside table are her schoolbooks. Sadaf cries in frustration as she tries to move her legs. “I can’t do it,” she cries. “Will I ever be able to sit or walk?” Her elderly mother has no answer.

Most of the women were in their homes when the disaster struck on October 8 and had to be pulled from the rubble. Many were carried or driven from their mountain villages to the nearest towns — journeys of many hours that aggravated their injuries. Finally they were brought to Islamabad by car or helicopter, operated on at the main hospital and then brought to the Melody to recuperate.

The auditorium is still charred and unusable, but the worst cases are accommodated in the former ticket hall and the less serious in the old cafeteria, where relatives are in constant attendance, not least because they will have to look after the women in their later lives. In a country with no social safety net, and where women are expected to earn their keep through hard labour, those lives look bleak.

The unmarried stand little chance of finding a husband if they cannot walk. That is a fate that probably awaits Sadaf. The married fret about keeping their husbands. Mothers, some widowed, fear that they will be unable to raise their children.

Arub, from the Kashmiri village of Ghari Habibullah, lies pale and emaciated on her bed. She has two sons, aged 1 and 2, but lost her husband in the quake.

Beside her sits her mother, who was also widowed. Nafisa Enayatullah, the white-haired, bespectacled woman who owns the Melody, said: “These are the worst victims of the earthquake.” She decided to convert it after visiting the main hospital in Islamabad, where she was overcome by pity.

Shenaz Bibi, 35, was widowed by the earthquake and buried for several hours in the rubble of her home. She cannot lift her legs, but her biggest worry is how she will bring up two infants.

Mrs Enayatullah now devotes her time to caring for the patients. She is supported by about 40 full-time medical staff and several volunteers, with funding from private donors and charities. Hasan Ahmed Ozgen, a mill owner, who has taken time off to work at the Melody, said: “Almost all of them were suffering from acute depression and did not have any will to live.”

Volunteers, mostly housewives or students, come to the centre to help the patients to exercise. They are encouraged to learn knitting or sewing to keep them occupied. “It may also help them to earn their living once they return home,” Mr Ozgen said. The women are also taught to insert catheters, strengthen their arms and leg muscles and to use wheelchairs.

As the weeks have passed, a few have improved, and 17 have recovered sufficiently to go home. Qasim Bibi, 50, from Bagh, was moved downstairs last week. She is able to walk a few steps with support. The pain is etched across her face, but she is one of the lucky ones.

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