Fifteen years ago I had left Srinagar with a little
packet of dried green leaf, known to the Kashmiris as woppal haak, slightly bitter in taste, and believed to be a
favourite dish of our family deity, Rupa
Bhawani. (Read about that visit in my older post "The Lost Paradise"). Perhaps there was something symbolic in the fact that it was an
Englishman who gave this leaf to me. Kashmir
has continued to be a disturbed area, although there have been some periods of
relative peace and calm in-between. The Pakistani misadventure in Kargil; the
9/11 attack on the US, followed by the American invasion of Iraq; the war
against Al Qaeda in the ravaged lands of Afghanistan; the suicidal attack of 26th
November on Mumbai; and a general current of anti-Islamic feeling in the West, further kept fanning the fires of
insurgency in Kashmir. After Kargil, the presence of the Indian security forces
in the valley had become more visible, adding further to the general discontent
among the people. The army can never be a peace-keeping force. Armed soldiers
are trained not to hesitate if a threat is perceived, but to eliminate the
threat first and then to investigate. Under such tense situations it is very
likely that some innocents got caught in the crossfire or were perceived as
potential threats and eliminated by the security force personnel. The presence
of a large anti-India establishment in the valley like the Hurriyat, led by Syed Ali
Shah Geelani, who openly advocates the merger of Kashmir with Pakistan,
supplied additional fuel to the separatist tendencies of the young,
impressionable minds. The Hurriyat
was quick to capitalize on some excesses of the armed forces, and ready to shut
the valley down for long periods, depriving the people of their freedom of
movement; closing down schools and colleges, business establishments, as also
health centres. My longing to make another visit to Kashmir
had only become intensified, but it was looking more and more unlikely that
a visit could be planned in these
troubled times.
However, the war against terror gradually
started coming closer to Pakistan ,
and when the Pakhtoon areas of the North West
became the central theatre of this war, Pakistan found itself caught
between the proverbial rock and a hard place. Its ISI and other military
organizations got drawn into this home-grown war, leaving fewer resources to
continue with the insurgency in Kashmir . The sheer
fatigue of an agitation that has been carried on relentlessly for over two
decades would also have had its own enervating effect, and that is why some
semblance of normalcy appeared to be returning to the valley. In the year 2010,
Kashmir again went up in flames following the
death of a youth who was hit on the head by a tear gas shell. The Hurriyat saw its chance and called for a
complete shut down of the valley. But the conflict had become localized and did
not get the kind of manpower and material support from across the LOC. There were sporadic street fights between
the Security forces and the mobs, and normal life did get disrupted, yet there
were signs that the tide had turned. This was confirmed by the fact that a
large number of tourists were willing to visit Kashmir
during the holiday season. The annual Amarnath
Yatra also saw a significantly large number of devotees (estimated at about
five lakhs) visiting the remote cave to worship the sacred ice lingam. The absence of direct Pakistani
control of the conflict from the separatists’ side is, to my mind, the major
factor in the success of the yatra, and
in the inflow of the tourist crowds.
Mohammed Amin is one of those Kashmiris who
have remained steadfast in his belief that armed conflict was eventually futile
and would only bring more and more misery to the people of Kashmir .
Recognizing that he would not be able to give his family a safe and dignified
life in the valley, he had shifted his business and base to the southern city
of Chennai .
Starting as an itinerant trader of Kashmiri carpets and shawls, he eventually
bought himself a showroom and is one of the most successful Kashmiri merchants
in that city. I met Mohd. Amin almost twenty years ago when I bought some
carpets from him, and was impressed with his honesty and sincerity. After that
first meeting we have remained in continuous touch and seem to have become
parts of one another’s families.
Some years ago Mohammed Amin bought a plot of land near the famous Moghul garden, Shalimar, in Srinagar . It was a period when militancy had
somewhat abated and people could look forward to the return of peace and
normalcy in the valley. Amin decided to build a guest house on this land. With
active inputs from one of his regular customers from Germany , he embarked upon this
project and constructed a small guest house with 30 odd rooms. He named it Al Hamra, after the famous 14th
century Moorish palace in Andalusia, southern Spain . During his travels in Europe he had visited this monument, and had been
captivated by its majestic grandeur. Amin had been inviting me to visit Srinagar once the guest
house had been inaugurated, but the visit did not seem to be happening due to
the conditions in the valley. Meanwhile, I had also shifted from Chennai to the
Nilgiris and had settled down to a retired life in the beautiful tea town of Coonoor .
Last September, however, conditions had
stabilised significantly, and we finally decided that the long-cherished visit
could now be undertaken. After checking with Amin, I firmed up our plans to
visit the valley from the 1st of October for about two weeks. He was
so pleased that he assured that he would be personally available in Kashmir during our sojourn. I couldn’t have asked for
anything more. We flew to New Delhi
and stayed the night there. Accompanying us from Bangalore would be our daughter Prerna, her
husband Robert, and their two girls Maya and Riya, aged 9 and 6. Robert, though
of Kashmiri origin, was born in Scotland ,
and had grown up in New England in the US . His parents had emigrated from India in the early 60’s and after a few years in
the UK , had moved to the US . Robert had
been to Kashmir as an infant and, predictably,
he had no memory of that visit. For Maya and Riya this was going to be their
first visit, and they were as eager as us to visit the land of our ancestors.
The Indigo flight from Delhi
to Srinagar
takes about one hour. As we approached the Pir
Panjal range of mountains that separate Jammu from the valley, the heartbeat went up
dramatically. The snow-white clouds high above the peaks sharply outlined their
grace and beauty. There is no more breathtaking sight than this view of the
Himalayan ring protecting the valley in its bosom. On a clear, sunny day it
becomes obvious why this is the most prized piece of real estate on earth.
Emerging out of the aircraft we set foot on
the tarmac. The Airport building is a new, modern steel and glass structure,
having replaced the once quaint little brick and wood shed. The airport was
teeming with tourists, largely from within the country, as also a few
foreigners. A cacophony of languages made speech almost indistinguishable.
Children of all ages were running here and there looking for their baggage on
the carousels, while the elders were discussing their itineraries. Our baggage
came soon and we found Amin waiting for us outside the Arrival Hall. Srinagar was hot and a
trifle humid. The car air-conditioner had to be switched on to make the weather
pleasant. Soon we were on our way to the Guest House at Shalimar.
Al
Hamra is a pleasantly designed guest house, located
a walking distance from the Shalimar
Garden . Its rooms are
well furnished, and bathrooms are clean. Electric geysers ensure that running
hot water is available at all times. There is a nice little garden, the
showpiece of which is a Chinar tree.
Autumn had set in and the deciduous trees had already begun to shed their
leaves. The Chinar leaves turn from
green to yellow and then to a fiery crimson. The grounds below a Chinar tree can become a carpet of red
before the onset of winter. These leaves are gathered and burnt to produce a
kind of charcoal that the Kashmiris use in winter in their kangris to keep their persons warm.
We checked into our rooms and after a short
rest decided to visit the Shalimar
Garden and Cheshma Shahi that evening. I also
wanted to go to the little shrine near Cheshma
Shahi and see if Michael was still
there after a lapse of fifteen years. Both the Moghul gardens were full of
tourists, both local and visiting. The flower beds were not at their pristine
best due to the season. Chashma Shahi’s
famous spring was gurgling as ever, discharging the finest drinking water on
earth. We went to the little shrine at the back of the garden. It had been
completely renovated. The path to the shrine was paved and the garden looked more
organized.
There were some men doing aarti. They looked like they were from
the armed forces. The little cottage at the back was still there. It had a
fresh coat of paint. But I was disappointed to see a padlock on the door. There
was a Muslim worker collecting water in a bucket from the stream. I asked him
if an Englishman was staying in the cottage. He told me that the cottage was
occupied by a Pujari, who had come
from either Jammu
or somewhere in Himachal Pradesh and had been there for a couple of years. The Pujari was not to be seen anywhere and may have gone to town for supplies.
The Muslim worker had no knowledge of any Englishman. Obviously, Michael had
moved on, and nobody seemed to have his forwarding address. I hope he is well
on the road to spiritual advancement and distributing happiness to others as he
did to me that summer evening fifteen years ago.
During this visit we were able to visit the
famous Khir Bhawani temple near Gandarbal. Although it was an auspicious
day there were hardly any visitors to the shrine. The road to Khir Bhawani has undergone a drastic
change. It used to be a walking path with a stream flowing alongside. Now it is
a motorable road with houses and shops lining it all the way up to the
entrance. The stream has disappeared. The parking area near the entrance is
used by the local villagers to spread out and dry their paddy. The shrine inside
is unchanged. But the surrounding areas have been walled in (for security
reasons) and a block of rooms has been erected in the back to accommodate
devotees who would like to have an extended stay there. The vendors of the
famous halwa, lucchis, and pakoras have all gone. Instead there
were two temporary stalls selling these items. They too were winding up and
shutting shop the next day.
This time I was keen on visiting Vaskur, the shrine near Sumbal, where Rupa Bhawani had made a blind man dig a well with his elbows and
restored his eyesight. Fifteen years ago this was a highly insecure area and I
had not been permitted to venture there. But now, it was safe to go and after
seeking directions from local villagers we were able to find the place.
The shrine is kept locked and the keys are
with a local peasant who was very happy to open the lock and let us say our
prayers inside. He told us that he looks after the place and keeps it clean. He
also lights a lamp every day. The place looked reasonably clean and well kept.
The miraculous well is permanently locked and we could not draw any water from
that. A small marble image of Rupa
Bhawani and her father has been installed by an unknown devotee within the
shrine. A similar image was also installed in the shrine at Chashma Shahi. There used to be a
primary school here that was run by the shrine administration. The building was
still there but obviously had not been in use for a very long time. Another
house that was the abode of the descendants of the Mattu family that looked after Rupa
Bhawani when she lived there was in ruins and I wondered about the fate of
the family that lived there. Most probably they would have run away with the
exodus to escape from the hostile militants.
We also went to Manasbal Lake .
There, on the banks, an ancient Siva
Temple had been recently
excavated. I had seen it in a documentary on TV, and now had the opportunity to
visit. It is quite easily accessed and only a short distance from the main
entrance to the garden at the Lake .
The authorities have excavated only the top
of the stone temple, as most of it is still under water. The temple is believed
to have been built in the 8th century AD, and was constructed during
the reign of Avantivarman or Sankaravarman. The temple, constructed
with local grey stone, has a unique pyramid-shaped shikhar that has been carved with floral motifs. An exquisite
example of temple architecture of the Indian classical age!
Apart from the Kashmiri Pandits, the group
that has suffered the most because of militancy is the young Muslim male of the
valley. Boys born in the middle nineteen-eighties have seen nothing but
militancy and are now grown into young men in the age group of 25-30. Their
parents were afraid to let them go out of their homes as they feared that they
would be picked up either by the security forces or misguided by the militants
to join their cause. Those who were lucky to escape both still missed out on
education. The girls were a little better off than the boys. They were
relatively safer from the two predators on the streets and thereby managed to
attend schools and colleges and some of them even qualified as professional
doctors and engineers. The inequity in the educational status of the boys and
the girls of the valley has thrown up another problem. The girls are unwilling
to be married to these boys and their parents are now forced to look for
suitable matches outside the Kashmiri community, in other parts of the
subcontinent. The boys are condemned to remain single and will eventually have
to settle for girls from a lower stratum in their society. The young man who
ferried us everywhere within the valley in his Toyota Qualis is an example of
this tragedy. His older brother is a doctor and so is his sister-in-law. But
he, being born in 1986, missed out on schooling, and consequently, suffers by
comparison. His one regret in life was that he could not attend school as a
normal child of his age should have. But not every one has been as lucky as
him. At least he has a taxi that he drives quite competently, and can earn a
decent amount to look after his mother and himself. The young man who was
looking after the houseboat where we spent one night had a similar tale to
tell. He too had lost out on the educational front and felt condemned to a life
of mediocrity. Most of the young men we saw on the streets were looking like
zombies, their eyes without expression, a look of sheer hopelessness on their
faces.
In the mass emigration of the Pandits, Kashmir has lost much more than a mere five percent of
its population. It has lost a whole civilization that had withstood countless
earlier attempts at conversion, and had evolved a very distinct culture,
language, literature, and customs. The Pandits had learnt to live as a minority,
and were quite content to let the majority community have the benefits of
development as befitted them. They were like that spoonful of salt that adds
flavour to a dish. To a large extent it worked admirably. The state remained
free of any communal tension and the conflagration that engulfed the Punjab and
Bengal at the time of Partition did not reach
the valley. Pakistan ’s
misadventure in 1947 also did not succeed in destabilising the harmony among
the Pandits and the Muslims. Successive attempts by Pakistan , in 1965 and 1971 met with
the same fate. It was Zia, using religious zeal to promote his political
fortunes, who initiated the transformation of the valley’s ethos by injecting
indoctrinated Wahabi elements into
the mosques and madrasas of Kashmir . The Government of India, from Indira Gandhi
onwards, also contributed to this alienation through short-sighted and politically-motivated
policies. The leadership of the Congress had been completely emasculated by an
insecure Indira Gandhi, for whom winning elections and staying in power was the
only dharma. She used every dirty
trick in the book and did not hesitate to use divisive tactics in pursuit of
her ambitions. She was ready to fragment the country if it could ensure her
stay in power. Punjab burnt first, and then Assam . Her son and successor was
too inexperienced and fell easy prey to the wily power-brokers within the
party. Kashmir , that had stayed conflict-free
for so long, finally began to smoulder when the state elections were blatantly
rigged. Pakistan
took advantage of the simmering discontent, and in 1989 the fabric of communal
harmony finally tore apart.
The heavy hand with which the Indian state
responded to the insurgency has been adequately documented by various observers
and commentators. If Kashmir today is limping towards a semblance of normalcy,
it is not because of the overwhelming presence of the Indian security forces,
but mainly due to the fact that Pakistan
has its hands full with domestic strife and cannot afford to concentrate on Kashmir as it once had. The other reason is that the
people of the valley are now fed up with the state of siege and are desperately
yearning for a normal way of life. The common Kashmiri has no faith in his
leaders and sees them as tools of one agency or another. The politicians,
without exception, have no constituency within the valley and are nothing but
parasites feeding on the body of the people. It may be that some day normalcy
will return. But I fear that day will not be soon. There is a lot of money
flowing into the valley from the Indian state and a lot of it is getting into
the pockets of the politicians and the administrators. Even the security forces
have an interest in keeping the pot boiling as there are immense opportunities
for corruption. The Islamic (Wahabi)
world also continues to pour in vast sums of money (some of it counterfeit) in
the misplaced hope that Kashmir would one day become a part of Pakistan .
The feeling that one gets today is that Kashmir will never return to its pristine era that
existed before 1989. The Pandits who fled twenty-two years ago have moved on
and the young generation has no affinity with the valley. They have educated
themselves in various parts of the country and have dispersed all over the
globe like the Jews of the Exodus. The Pandits living in camps in Jammu are too few to be
taken seriously by anyone; they do not represent a vote bank. And very soon
they will also disperse and meld with the rest of the country. The valley is
almost one hundred percent Islamic and this Islamization is very visible.
Mosques have sprouted everywhere and one can hear competing azans from Shia and Sunni mosques
almost throughout the day and night. All women, even small girls, are wearing a
head-scarf, if not hijab, and men
have taken to sporting traditional Islamic symbols. When people allow religion
to become the focus of their lives, they lose the ability to assimilate and
absorb. Intolerance lurks just below the skin and the slightest provocation can
enflame and destroy centuries of trust and fellow-feeling. That is the greatest
tragedy of Kashmir .