When Uttarakhand was carved out of Uttar Pradesh on November 9, 2000, after a decades-long movement, an editorial in Uttara Mahila Patrika, a quarterly magazine, wondered what women — one of the most crucial segments of the agitation — would do now.“Now that the dream of a separate Uttarakhand state has been realised, what are the women going to do? Should they quietly sit at home…or should they… form a clear vision and present it as their manifesto?” it said.As the state observes its silver jubilee, Kamla Pant, one of Uttara’s editors and Uttarakhand Mahila Manch leaders, tells The Indian Express from her Dehradun home, “We had put up a vision statement near the court complex. Not one of those aims have been fulfilled. In fact, we have added more to it.”Uttara, a Hindi magazine, was launched in the October-December quarter of 1990. Printed in Dehradun — but produced 280 km away, in Nainital — it has since then held a mirror to the region’s social and political churn.From the hills’ anti-drugs protests, the global Reclaim the Night Movement of the 1970s and early critiques of women’s commodification in 1994 to the inclusion of transwomen in public service commissions, the state’s surveillance of women’s bodies through the Uniform Civil Code and raising the October 1994 Rampur Tiraha case, Uttara has cultivated informed readers since its inception.The Rampur Tiraha case refers to the incident when hundreds of statehood activists on their way to Delhi to protest were shot at by the police at Rampur Tiraha in UP’s Muzaffarnagar district. While at least six died, several others were injured. The police were also accused of sexually assaulting women protesters.In recent years, Uttara turned its gaze on the rise of communalism, something that Pant says its founders never imagined would one day demand its attention.Story continues below this adThe resolve to start a magazine for the working-class woman started with the 1984 “Nasha Nahi, Rozgar Do” campaign, when women took to the streets in protest against alcoholism. Pant, then a lawyer, said when the statehood movement ended, they “wanted to play a meaningful role in society”.Around that time, Pant and her friends, Uma Bhatt, Sheela Rajwar and Basanti Pathak, got wind of the Delhi-based women’s magazine, Manushi.In Uttara’s October-December 2020 issue, Pathak, one of its founding editors, recalled what inspired their decision to start the magazine.“Because women’s concerns received little space in other publications, and the problems of hill women found no mention anywhere. Generally, the content in women’s magazines focused on knitting, pickle-making, or tips on becoming an ideal housewife… There was hardly any serious discussion about women’s pain, their distinct problems, their struggles,” she wrote.Story continues below this adThe group vowed to create a magazine with no frills on the women of the Himalayas. The next challenge was funding.Pathak writes that they could not depend on advertisements without losing their character or replicating then-popular women’s magazines. It was clear that they would have to rely on well-wishers for funding. With eight names in mind, Pathak left for Delhi to register the magazine, her second visit to the national capital. By the time she returned, a major milestone had been achieved: Uttara, of the north, was registered and would be printed in Meerut, at Om Printing Press.In the first issue’s print line, they acknowledged the contribution of the press owner’s daughters: “Published from Om Printing Press, Meerut, with the assistance of Madhubala and Rajbala.”In its first edition, Uttara carried a piece on a survey on what women thought. Twenty-six women from diverse income groups, ages and educational backgrounds were surveyed. The overwhelming result was that all of them aspired for self-reliance.Story continues below this adOne of Uttara’s earliest ground reports was on a woman who had arranged a match for her widowed daughter-in-law. Pathak writes, “It was unprecedented because a poor village woman had taken that decision. She said that she had become a widow at a young age and had endured what being a widow meant. ‘I am not committing a sin — I am just setting up a home,’ she said.”The magazine was not limited to the region. The same 40-page issue contained a piece by Krishna Raina on the role of women in Kashmiri fiction. Men too were contributors and audience, but their work was centred on women.In its second year, it talked about the Garhwal earthquake that had left 750 people dead. The issue also raised questions about the Tehri dam.In 1994, an announcement by then UP CM Mulayam Singh — on the implementation of quota for OBCs in admission for higher education — gave the statehood agitation a fresh impetus.Story continues below this adAs the Uttarakhand Mahila Manch was formed that year by Pant, Uttara became a vessel for voices from the field.In its fifth year, an Uttara editorial, named Uttara Ka Kehna Hai, wrote that the burden of social inequality, injustice, malpractice, governmental policy, social criminalisation or state repression is ultimately borne most severely by women. “Why? and until when? Through the Uttarakhand movement, women had begun their fight against every system that struck at their dignity,” the editorial read.Of the several pieces in the issue, one was on the October 1994 Rampur Tiraha case.As Uttarakhand inched closer to state formation, Uttara reflected this too. When the state was formed on November 9, 2000, the women behind the quarterly knew their work was only half done.Story continues below this adWhen the Kedarnath deluge killed thousands in 2013, Uttara carried strong pieces on unregulated development in the region, along with an interview with Rudraprayag’s Sushila Bhandari, who was earlier jailed for protesting against the hydroelectric projects on the Mandakini.Today, Uttara is struggling to stay relevant, said Sheela Rajwar, who runs the magazine currently.Competition from social media, digital media outlets and the new crop of magazines has reduced its subscriber numbers sharply — from 3,500 at the height of the statehood movement, to fewer than 200 now. Last year, Uttara published just one issue in six months.“Earlier, we would send copies to non-Hindi-speaking states and Hindi directorates. We considered transitioning into an online magazine completely, but our current subscribers have expressed concerns about that move. This year has been extremely challenging as we have faced difficulties in pushing out the magazine on time,” says Rajwar, adding that she is still holding onto hope that the magazine will not die out.