While returning, at the Srinagar airport you might see young men of around the age group merely between 23 and 35 in wheelchairs, I saw two of them, their army cut and physique made me believe they were jawans and most probably injured on the border, reminding me of my brother whom I received at the Pune airport 3yrs ago. He too had come from Srinagar, in a wheelchair, injured for life, making me question if it was necessary. If the war can be justified, ever.
I still have tears in my eyes waiting to fall while I write this on my way from Srinagar to Delhi, because it was an overwhelming experience, not just at the airport but all four days especially the last day conversation with a group of young students and particularly a conversation with one young guy of Kashmir university.
They (Kashmiris) were not angry, but hopeless. They no longer have dreams because they feel there is no point in dreaming, as they won’t ever get fulfilled. They all want to go away, out of the country because “Indians” don’t trust them. And I don’t blame them but us.
During the conversation in a larger group at the Kashmir University, at first, nobody was ready to speak to us (we were a group of 10-12 people from across the country, exploring Kashmir) and wanted to be politically correct because otherwise, they said they would be charged under UAPA. However, some conversations opened up, as a passing remark not going into details like, “If we talk with you if they see us here with you, they will put UAPA on us”. “No one is happy with the abrogation of 370, but we aren’t protesting and we will not. How can we protest? If we do, they will put UAPA on us.”
While passing through Lal Chowk, another person had said, “Ab nahi hote yaha protest wagaireh kuch.” I asked why? He said “Sidha andar kar denge…”
Students were saying “Fundamental rights concept does not exist here, my rights are compromised daily”
Responding to my apologies for being late and keeping them waiting for the conversation, which was due to the traffic and wait time for the convoys to pass they said, “You were late because of the convoys? The convoys won’t even let the ambulance pass, it’s them (army) who would pass first and then everyone else, even if they (common people) are dying” It reminded me of one more person sharing on another occasion about his mother who is undergoing dialysis but because of the convoys they can’t always reach hospital on time but have to wait for hours and hours on the road.
While talking about their experiences in other parts of the country one of them came forward saying “Ma’am I have stayed in Pune, I know how hard it is to find a room on rent there”. Another student told me about his friend who was working in a multinational company in Delhi or Bangalore I forgot, when the Pulwama attacks happened, as the news came, he was having lunch downstairs, as he came up to his desk, he noticed everyone was looking at him, differently, and he suffered that look for 2 long years, a gesture that is doubtful of if he was a terrorist.
I remembered yet another conversation I had had with someone in Daak house “I was in Andheri, I was going to the room of my friend and then some people sitting on the corner asked me where I am from, I said Kashmir and they started shouting at me: ye m*d*r*h*d, terrorist hoga na tu. Bomb hoga na bag me tere? dikha. Bol Jai Shree Ram” I can’t and don’t want to judge if he made up this story because how many would do so? With so many specifications?
The other person I became friends with had told me that he was asked to show all the ID proofs and kept in jail without clothes for one night without reason while in Delhi. The reason was he was a Kashmiri. And he is just 22 years old.
When I said I felt bad that you all put so much trust in us, us from across the country while we failed to make you feel safe and trusted in our states. They agreed. Adding to my feeling of pain and being the reason causing pain to them.
As we proposed if they would like to talk with us one-on-one because seeing them with a group of outsiders might be alarming and we were also realizing that they were not opening up, a student aggressively came forward saying “Whom do you want to talk to? Do you want to talk to me? chalo, let’s talk one-on-one”.
We started talking without exchanging any personal information and only after both of our phones were switched off. Not because he doubted me, but the automatic tracking of conversations that phones do. We know how we see certain ads appear on our phones after certain kinds of discussions. He also knew that even after putting phones off, he may still be questioned, but he was ready for it, in his words “We are used to it”
He started the conversation by asking me what I wanted to know about Kashmir or Kashmiris. Before I could say anything he told me how he had seen dead bodies being pulled across the road just 10ft from him as a child. He also told me that “Just the day before yesterday, while I was on my way home from the university, they stopped my car, asked me to show the kagaj with five gunmen pointing their gun at me” while I was still processing it, he added, “we are used to it.”
All the while, he was not sad or angry, but saying it all bluntly.
He asked genuinely about what I felt. “Don’t you feel the Kashmiris resemble (in terms of appearance) to Pakistanis more than Indians? Don’t you call northeastern people Chinese? Don’t we and Pakistanis share more similarities than you and I? Are we not closer to Pakistanis in terms of way of life, geography, ye pahad aur wadiya? Why should we not prefer them?” I was speechless, his eyes were sharply focused, waiting for my answer while I was grappling, unsure what to say and where to see, into his eyes or somewhere else.
After a long pause, he said, “But we don’t and won’t because we know they aren’t good… for anyone.” “I had my constitution, I had my own rules and regulations, I had my Ranbir Penal Code like your IPC, I had my national flag, and suddenly you want me to respect your constitution, your IPC, your flag? Why do you force yourself upon me?”
By now, I was taken aback. To keep the conversation going, I asked what he wanted to do in life. He said, “I had a lot of dreams. I wanted to rule Kashmir (with sarcasm, though). Now I don’t want to do anything.” After a pause, he added, “I wanted to go outside, outside of the country. We are treated well there, even better than other Indians. Look at our skin colour (he put his hand against mine) I had got the admission to a foreign university but then 370 happened, there was no internet, no access to any services. How would I complete my admission process?”
It reminded me of my conversation with class 8 students who had said that their education was hampered for 2 years, one year during COVID and another year in association with 370 (they didn’t directly mention 370 though). And the lost syllabus isn’t compensated for. Now in class 8th, they can’t cope with the syllabus that is based on the lost one. Since it put their teacher in discomfort and I know it’s not their fault either, we changed the discussion to what we together can do to compensate and catch up with the upgraded syllabus.
He kept on talking on and on as things came to his mind while I was just listening. “Jammu people will say, ye Kashmiri aise hai….they (army) will kill the persons who look them in the eyes and then declare them militant. In Kashmir you will find the highest number of suicides among army and police people…why? Wo hame bhadkana chahte hai 370 se, ham kuch nahi karenge, aap hi hame wapas doge 370, aur aap doge” he said with conviction. “You know Pulwama, right?” I shook my head in yes “Did you know it was the government?” I said yes, that I got to know later. Recently. He said, “Only a few people know and Pulwama is just one example”.
I asked what do you want the government to do? He said in one word “Remove army” and then asked what would the government or you do? Without waiting for my response which I didn’t have anyway he continued “You can do nothing. All politicians, government, I am politically aware, Mr. S is my uncle, and I know they all are corrupt. They have done so much corruption that to hide it, they won’t do anything but just follow the orders. Wo tum logo ka kuch tha na tiranga ko lekar?” I asked “Har Ghar Tiranga?” He said “Haan, yaha ka CM pehle bola ham nahi manayenge har ghar tiranga, hamne kisine nahi fehraya tiranga, fir baad me wo khud apne ghar pe fehraya, aise hi hai wo log”. I wish I was politically aware enough to understand and remember the names he was taking throughout our conversation. I only remember he regarded Mehbooba Mufti and had said, “She is in house arrest because she tried to raise the voice for the Kashmiris and they won’t let her.”
About the political parties, he said “XYZ fir bhi thik thi, wo chize balance krti thi, but this government is the worst.” He also said, “I want freedom. I want the freedom to do anything and everything and I don’t have it”.
I was realizing every other day, with every other conversation, how we have failed them as a country. I also had a feeling that we had killed their dreams. When I tried conveying and cross-checking if it is so with this student, he said “What dreams? Don’t you think we are already dead inside? We are dead. We are just surviving. Thanks to our landholdings and farming, we can survive.” “Ab to government ka job wala opening bhi nahi aaya hai 370 ke baad se,” he added. I had heard this from 2 more people already.
After this conversation, when I joined my newly found friend, he started sharing too, “You know China always kills 50 soldiers and they (Indian Government) will tell you only 2 died. China has captured the land and they will not accept it. They (China) had come this far (pointing outside the University) just a few kilometres from here, they can come anytime.”
He also told me stories of his brother who is living in the US now. He too, wants to leave, but he can not leave his family. A man has to be at home. His statement made more sense now when he told me about the stories of rape by the Indian Army, stories of some BJP team going into homes cutting the hair of women at night.
Upon asking why he didn’t want to stay but leave the country, especially Kashmir, he said, “You will find 99% of the population is well educated in Kashmir, but have no jobs. They also hold double masters and PhD, including women. And there is no start-up culture here, no government support.” He said “I don’t feel settled here, I am not sure about my future. Yaha kuch na hota hai, na hoga”
His sister keeps calling him almost every other hour. After one such call in between this conversation, he said, “She calls me every hour. She has to because we never know what will happen to us and when. She just calls to make sure I am alright.” And this is the everyday life of a Kashmiri.
There was one more man, a Muslim, who had shared about a Kashmiri Pandit girl who had fallen for him, but he treated her as a sister, not wanting to create religious disharmony within the village. He proudly had said “Kashmiri men would never touch a woman or think bad about a Kashmiri Pandit but how do they portray us? While in the service, I had stopped one Kashmiri Pandit family from leaving, but then I got a call in the evening from my seniors asking me to let them go, now you decide if it was us (Muslims) or the government”. He had also shared about militants saying, “They (army) get Rs.500 to let them cross the border and Rs.2000 to let them come back again to India”
All these conversations with multiple people wounded my soul and I was questioning myself. How come for years on I just adored the scenic beauty of Kashmir, ignoring the very lives of people?
As part of my preparation for this visit, I tried reading and could read half of the book The Many Faces of Kashmiri Nationalism by Namrata Haskar. I couldn’t read much about Afzal Guru, but I could about Sheikh Abdullah and was trying to make sense of the situations he was in, make sense of whatever he did, and try to keep myself in his shoes. While passing by his kabar at Dal lake, a Kashmiri man passed the comment “Kuch to bura kiya hoga tabhi to kabar pe bhi suraksha deni pad rahi hai” I felt maybe the man commenting had his reasons to say so and maybe I read just one part of the story. Now I feel, that no preparation would ever suffice to understand Kashmir. People of Kashmir would have differences of opinion just like we all have, what matters is irrespective of differences can we make a Kashmiri trust you? Can you make him/ her believe you? And can you ever make him/her safe while in your state? Home?
As soon as I started to plan for this journey, I started realizing how different this journey was going to be for me and all of us. All of us were asked to bring along post-paid SIM cards, as prepaid cards do not work in Kashmir, due to the fallout of the abrogation of 370. At the New Delhi airport, they were announcing, “Keep your passports ready with a boarding pass”. I was worried about why would I need to carry a passport to travel within my country, India. I wasn’t carrying one and was relieved to see that the Aadhaar card was accepted.
On the other note, while in Kashmir I had also gone for a trek to Kalaroos caves. It was a tough trek for me because we had lost our way back from the cave, and I had to slide down on my hips the entire steep slope because it was slippery with pine leaves and small stones all across, so many thorns of pine tree leaves poked into my bum, feet and everywhere else but the one Kashmiri guy who was with me, didn’t leave me for a second and made sure I reached till the end safe and sound.
Despite my pleading not to, he also cleaned my feet time and again with his hands, removing several thorns and just cleaning them, thinking my feet were being hurt. I am a close to 100kg heavy person and I know how much responsibility he had because one moment of looking away and I would have slipped, rolled down all the way … yet he chose to be with me without any irritation or hate even for once, in fact, he was trying to encourage me saying “You did it, you are doing it, well done, you are courageous, Kashmir me kuch naya experience kar rahe ho”, etc whereas I was in my mind cursing him for making me believe and follow him to a path which never existed while the entire team went on the well-travelled path. By the way, it was the first time I met him, here at the trek itself.
They didn’t judge me; they didn’t make me feel insecure for once, none amongst all the people I met. I never in my life had such an experience, neither of trekking like this nor having someone who would care about your well-being more than his own and owe the responsibility which nobody put on his shoulders.
You know the real meaning of “actions speak louder than words” in Kashmir in terms of love. They never say I love you, but their actions speak for it and I am lucky to have experienced that love from multiple people. Maybe I was going as somebody, even though I want to believe in the goodness of people.
There are still small thorns in my feet, but I am used to it by now. They don’t bother me as much as the faces of Kashmiris I met. The muscle pain after the trek isn’t hurting me as much as I am hurt to see and feel the pain of the people of Kashmir and yet they all have so much love for you, you, their mehman…. kaha se aata hai itna pyar. Itne zakhm jhelne ke bawajood?
I feel deeply ashamed. We don’t have the right to decide what a Kashmiri should or should not do; we have no right to claim it as ours; we have no right to question them for anything at all. Only if we could share as much love with them as they shower on us, only if we could make some space in our hearts for them and forge a connection beyond what we see or hear but based on what we experience!