Five years later, the locals have been pushed out of the mainstream
Ghazala Wahab
“Ab nahin chhodte hain,” (now, they don’t let us attend) my Srinagar-based photographer tells me every time I ask him to cover a government of India event in Kashmir.
When Prime Minister Narendra Modi went to Srinagar to strike a few yoga poses on International Yoga Day, my photographer sent me photographs of empty streets adorned with giant posters welcoming him. On Kargil Vijay Diwas, he sent me photographs of banners and buntings from the national highway leading to Zoji La. Though the ministry of defence had asked journalists to reach Srinagar, from where they were to be driven to Dras/ Kargil to hear the Prime Minister, the advisory did not apply to Kashmiris.
Once a favourite of the security forces—the FORCE photographer was often invited to accompany them during counter-insurgency operations or to field locations—now he sends me pictures of tourists taking their own pictures. The story of Kashmiri stringers with whom I have worked in the last 20 years is the same. They are happy to criticise the local politicians, all of whom are powerless to effect any changes, but are worried about chronicling their own lives. The honest Kashmiri is the one who does not live in Kashmir any longer. Those who live there are invisible, not only to the outsiders, but to themselves too. Each pretending that the other is unseen, lest someone asks—How are you?
Of all the people across the country that I have met in the last three decades of my professional career, Kashmiris have been the most political. Even a shikarawallah had a perspective on Kashmir’s history and the possible future. Most had an opinion on the politics of the day. These days, they don’t even have an opinion on the apple harvest, in case the listener detects a political statement in their comments. Hence, with an outsider, the voluble Kashmiri goes into listening mode. Getting the Kashmiri perspective, then depends upon your skills to read her expressions. Does she nod vigorously when you talk of political resolution or stare blankly? Does she shake her head sadly when you refer to false cases or vehemently deny it? Does she smile when you mention pervasive fear or point to economic windfall because of the boom in tourism? And finally, when you say that the Kashmiri today exists only to service the Indian tourists and fortune-seekers, does she laugh out loud or look at you with vacant eyes?
Five years after the revocation of Articles 370 and 35A, when India was supposed to have embraced Kashmir as its integral part, all natives of the beleaguered state, now a Union Territory (UT), are suspects at best and legitimate targets at worst. Even those who qualify as ‘official Kashmiris’ are always at the risk of being denied this exalted status and deemed suspect.
In mid-July, the director general of J&K (Jammu and Kashmir) police, R.R. Swain said as much in his statement to the media. According to him, “Pakistan successfully infiltrated all important aspects of civil society, thanks to so-called mainstream or regional politics in the valley...” Swain can be forgiven for his ignorant remark, because denial of Kashmir’s recent history is integral to government of India’s project of recasting the former state in the mould envisioned by its ideological anchor S.P. Mookerjee.
However, the collective memories of Kashmiris or people of Kashmir origin is making this task difficult. Way back in 2008, former chief of naval staff and a Kashmiri, Admiral Arun Prakash wrote in FORCE. “Growing up in the Valley in the 1950s and 60s, my neighbours and playmates were all Kashmiris; of Muslim, Hindu and Sikh faith. Our parents were friends, we ate in each others’ homes, and celebrated all festivals together. But even as children, we clearly understood that Kashmir was not India, and that the average Kashmiri’s attitude towards India was at best ambivalent, while he definitely had an empathy for Pakistan.” Too much anti-nationalism?
The revocation of the Constitutional Acts that bestowed special status on the state of Jammu and Kashmir by way of notional autonomy, was not only aimed at complete integration with the rest of the nation, but also to recast the narrative about the Valley. No matter what the ground situation was, the government of India declared that normalcy was finally restored in the restive valley. Anyone who challenged this was deemed anti-national. Both ‘acche din’ and ‘Amrit Kaal’ had concurrently arrived in Kashmir, whether they arrived in other parts of the country or not.
Interestingly, in Kashmir, the words normal and normalcy means different things. Normalcy implies resolution of the political problem, which depending upon who one speaks with could mean any of the following—‘azadi’ (freedom), merger with Pakistan, or conversion of the line of control into international border. Normal means absence of violence and its consequences—curfew or bandh—on a particular day or week. Basically, normal means the day people could go about their everyday lives without interruption, even as they await normalcy. But after 5 August 2019, normal was redefined as normalcy.
The problem with this recasting, however, is that reality frequently clashes with the re-writing of history. For instance, in the seven months of 2024 alone, 11 army personnel have been killed in encounters with militants, mostly in the Jammu division, until now considered peaceful. The army attributes this surge in violence to the ‘gaps’ that were left in this part of the UT, because of redeployment to eastern Ladakh after the June 2020 Chinese occupation of territory beyond the line of actual control.
Just as demonetisation did not end the black economy, revocation of the Articles 370 and 35A have not integrated Kashmir with India. It has only pushed the Kashmiri people further from the Indian mainstream. So, what shall we do now? Since the government has decided that it will not engage with Pakistan, it must at least engage with the Kashmiris. It must allow the space for Kashmiri civil society to revive itself and function. Why must the State always be petty, vindictive and cruel? Why can’t the State be magnanimous and benign? Release political prisoners. Let them be the bridge between the State and the people.
Engage, Not Criminalise
On 31 December 2019, Khurram Parvez, chairperson of Asian Federation Against Involuntary Disappearances (AFAD) and programme coordinator of Jammu Kashmir Coalition of Civil Society (JKCCS), released the Annual Review of Human Rights Situation in Indian Administered Jammu and Kashmir. Since internet services were suspended in the Kashmir Valley after the revocation, Parvez came to Jammu to release the report. He sent a copy to me as well.
While the report focussed on the entire year, chronicling the death of ‘80 civilians (including 12 women), 159 militants and 129 armed forces’ personnel, chapter 4 was focussed entirely on the aftermath of the revocation of Article 370.
According to the report, ‘While the government of India has refused to acknowledge any civilian killing, the documented cases of killings by JKCCS and APDP (Association of Parents of Disappeared Persons) post August-5 at the hands of state forces state otherwise. JKCCS and APDP have been able to document at least six killings at the hands of the Indian armed forces following the abrogation of the Article 370 on August 5.’
However, more damning than the death figure was Parvez’s expose of the government’s claim of normalcy. The report chronicled in great detail how this normalcy was achieved. ‘Soon after the abrogation of Article 370…, as the entire Kashmir valley was put under a military and communication lockdown—allegations of torture by armed forces, night raids and harassment in several rural districts emerged. JKCCS and APDP was able to gather information concerning the torture of 14 individuals, mostly youth, on the night of August 5 in Pulwama district of South Kashmir... JKCCS and APDP has documented another twenty-four additional cases of torture from Gulshanabad, Gung Bugh, Tengpora, Firdosabad, Boatmen’s Colony, Mansoor Colony, Shanpora, Habak in Srinagar District.’
Moreover, ‘According to the government, since August 5, 5,161 people had been detained and about 609 persons are presently under detention.’ This figure included Kashmiri politicians—both mainstream, as well as Separatist. Even former chief ministers were not spared. ‘However, reports from the field suggest that a much higher number of people were detained and there are reports of ongoing detentions… Some people reported that they were required to report and remain at the local police stations from 9 am to 9 pm…’
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