Kashmir is where I was born, Kashmir is what no one can take out of me, even though Kashmir has been taken out of me and away from me. It is my heritage. The umbilical cord that binds me to the Valley is inseparable and un detachable. It is invisible and yet visible. For the deepest recesses in the dark corridors of my mind reverberate with images and events which shaped my childhood. I never lived in Kashmir, I only went there every summer and spent two of the best months of every year in the Valley. I grew up in Delhi, went to school in the rajdhani, but always had one foot planted in the Valley. Yet the feelings are strong, the emotion heavy when one recollects those pleasurable moments spent every summer. All that is in the past, I haven’t visited Kashmir for close to 30 years and yet I cannot get it out of my head and psyche. How can I? I grew up in a household obsessed with Kashmir. As a child I was drawn into this discourse. From my grandfather to my father and my uncle, this naked obsession was stark and ubiquitous. The stories were endless about the dramatis personae who shaped the accession – Panditji, Sardar Patel, Mountbatten, Karan Singh, Bakshi Ghulam Mohommed and Ghulam Mohommad Sadiq among others.
Last weekend, a bunch of students studying masscom at Kashmir University landed at my door. In the 22 to 23 age bracket, almost 30 of these reasonably smart and articulate kids visited our office and spent a couple of hours with me. Restive, but quiet at first, they slowly opened up on my verbalencouragement. I told them about their heritage, how Panditji and that true Nationalist Sheikh Mohammed Abdullah virtually plucked Kashmir from under Mohammed Ali Jinnah’s nose. I asked them whether they read a lot, I asked them whether they had paid any attention to their past, whether they had focused on their rich but controversial history. Some said yes, others hummed and hawed. Impromptu, I took them back in time in the Wellsian Time Machine. I asked them whether they knew that Jinnah had dropped anchor in the Valley for close to 40 days in the run up to accession with India. Jinnah in May 1944 tried hard to network with Kashmiri leaders, convincing them of the virtues of siding with what would eventually become Pakistan. During his lengthy stay in the Valley, he tried his utmost to seek a meeting with Sheikh Abdullah who studiously avoided him. Sheikh Saheb was the man who both sides wooed assiduously for he was the centrifuge that would deliver Kashmir toone or the other.
With Sheikh Saheb dodging the bullet, Jinnah was disconsolate and finally left Kashmir in a bit of a huff. I recounted this story for the benefit of those present in my room. Moreover, I reminded them of Gandhiji’s celebrated visit to the Valley the same year. Maharaja Hari Singh was recalcitrant, seeking independence from both the new entities – Pakistan and India. Lord Mountbatten and Lord Haslings Ismay (Mountbatten’s chief of staff) both tried to reason with the Maharaja, but to no avail. Finally it was left to Gandhiji to work his miracle. While it is reported that Gandhiji’s car was stoned in Baramulla, it is also well known that when Gandhiji arrived in Srinagar, people who were present recount the size of the procession and the cries of Mahatma Gandhi zindabad. Gandhiji obviously convinced Hari Singh who fell in line and paved the way for V P menon to bring back the instrument of accession on October 26, 1947. Even on the morning of October 26, 1947, Jinnah tried repeatedly and even desperately to speak to Sheikh Saheb by calling at Panditji’s residence 17 York Road, but an untrusting Sheikh Saheb eluded him.
Since that fateful day, Kashmir is a story that refuses to go away from the news pages. It is a story of life and equally death. Life of a Kashmiri in the free democracy of India and death of a dream of referendum which never took place though it was promised. It is also a tale of what could have been, but the first travesty took place when Sheikh was arrested in Gulmarg and then incarcerated. Let me not bore you with history. Let me tell you about my interface with the youth of the Valley. A collective which while replicating the Intifada from the middle east in the violent summer of 2010 had turned resistance into its most destructive face in recent memory. I discovered to my chargin that these youth revered the firebrand Gheelani because he stood for a particular cause. A cause which is unacceptable to India for obvious reasons. I have had a lengthy conversation with Gheelani Sahebmyself and I found his demand of ‘azadi’ completely facetious. But the youth gathered warmed up to the conversation once I broached his name. As I said at the outset, they were restive and the pain and anger became more evident when the Army and para military were mentioned. It was like a dam had burst, they couldn’t control their emotions.
From us – Muslim and Hindu – in the same room, there was a palpable change for the worse. It became us and them. They railed about the ‘excesses’, they railed about Omar Abdullah’s misrule, the railed about the lack of infrastructure and civic amenities. There was anger over mis governance and the bijli, sadak, pani inadequacies. They believe that Gheelani Saheb stands for something and at least he is steadfast about his ideology unlike the Hurriyatwallahs who keep changing tactics and don’t necessarily stand for anything anymore. It was like a two way classroom where while they tried to glean something from me, parallely they offered me a peep into their minds and psyche. The byplay was fascinating for they started asking questions. Questions about India’s (mind you India’s) intent,India’s approach towards removal of AFSPA which they reckon is draconian, the longish stint of peace and quiet in the Vale this year and the strong yearning for lasting peace and tranquility. There were other posers – why did the Pandits sell their houses, why don’t you revisit your madre vatan, when will the army pull out, will we get better governance et al? There was no meeting of minds.
I told them that the world has moved on, time will pass them by, the fruits of economic prosperity have to be absorbed by one and all and Kashmir is not an exception because it is an integral part of India. The youth want peace, they too want to move on with their lives, but only on their terms. Yes, Lt Gen Hasnain’s efforts at involving the youth has paid in spades in 2011, but the yawning chasm between action and deliverables is huge. This perceptual and real gap is what is hurting Delhi’s exact role in the Valley. The youth are fed up of the violence, they want too want to move on, but they want a set of covenants which are cast in stone. They believe in Gheelani Saheb’s standing as the tallest ideological leader and not necessarily in his ideology of ‘azadi’. This generation of youth wants improvement in the physical infrastructure of the Valley, they want jobs and education. The two teachers who accompanied the youth spoke of how 2011 was a great year for academics as there were no disruptions. Maybe that is way forward – kuch tum karo, kuch hum karein – only then will this divide be bridged.
I too yearn to kiss the turf. Madre Vatan beckons. I too want to show my family my homeland. Kashmiri Pandits were stampeded out of the Valley, it has left their psyches brutalized, their memories vandalized. They are equal partners in the progress, but no one will return, the fear pyschosis is over riding.
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