Kashmir urgently needs new symbols
Pellet guns have replaced Papa2 as proof that the State cares nothing for the people’s concerns
In the two decades since I first went to Kashmir as a reporter, everything has changed — on the surface, anyway. In Srinagar last week, I struggled to find my old bearings: many of the buildings are new, most of them hotels and homestays. Some old structures have been repurposed in more unexpected ways. Astonishingly, the infamous “Papa-2,” where an unknowable number of Kashmiris were brutally tortured and disappeared during the 1990s, is now the official residence of Chief Minister Mehbooba Mufti.
I remember feeling a bilious upheaval when I first drove past the place on Gupkar Road in 1999, when I was working on a cover story on Kashmir for TIME Magazine. Since then I’ve felt that way in close vicinity of some of the world’s worst torture chambers, from Abu Ghraib, outside Baghdad, and Evin, in Tehran, to Scorpion, near Cairo. But there’s something especially egregious about torture practised by a democratic state: in addition to being bestial, it is also a betrayal, of values and expectations.
Driving past the green-and-white building last week, I felt… baffled. Whose idea was it to turn this symbol of state repression into the home of the state’s elected leader? It must have been someone with little understanding of political optics. Much better to have destroyed the building, and replaced it with a park, or some other public space.
As it stands now, the repurposed Papa-2 symbolises the superficiality of change in Kashmir. The conversion of its function has not altered the fact that Kashmiris feel deeply disillusioned about their place and future in the Indian state.
The glass-half-full argument: thank goodness there’s no Papa-3. In the late 1990s, much of the talk among Kashmiris was about the atrocities by the security forces, from torture to “encounter killings.” The forces today exercise considerable restraint: the cruelty visited upon the previous occupants of Mufti’s residence is unheard of.
But Kashmiris aren’t comparing their current condition with the worst years of the 1990s; why should they? To them pellet-guns have taken the place of Papa-2 as proof that the Indian state cares nothing for their concerns. The state may argue that the pellets of today are better than the bullets of yesterday, but such gainsaying ignores the larger reality that parleys are better than projectiles of any kind.
Everybody I met in Kashmir agreed on this. In the quest for complete candour, my discussions were all private, so you’ll have to take my word that I met credible representatives of every category that counts: mainstream politicians, separatists, security forces, students, civil servants, civilians. They were unanimous that the problems can only be solved with politics, not pellets.
No change there: this was the consensus view in the late 1990s. Every government that has tried to punish Kashmiris into submission has eventually accepted the futility of such an approach. I have no doubt that the current dispensation in New Delhi will do so — but when? Time is running short. The differing perceptions of the latest symbol of the Kashmiri conflict points to a hardening of hatreds.
Farooq Ahmed Dar became a symbol on April 9, when, tied to an army jeep, he was used as a human shield against a stonethrowing mob. He had, by his own account, gone to vote in the Lok Sabha by-election. Dar’s plight brought him calumnies from all quarters. Prominent Indians, including the attorney general, defended his mistreatment. On social-media platforms, hypernationalists labelled him as a Pakistanisympathizer deserving no consideration. Most telling of all, many fellow-Kashmiris condemned him as Indian-sympathizer, for voting.
Even when the two sides agree on something — that Dar got what was coming to him — it’s for the completely opposite reasons.
What’s the way out from here? Kashmir needs new symbols. A grand symbolic gesture would be a good start: a visit to Srinagar by Prime Minister Modi, perhaps. A speech in Lal Chowk, offering balm, not bellicosity. Maybe even a ‘Mann ki Baat,’ in which he chats with young Kashmiris speaking their minds. Then the opening of dialogue, first with the mainstream political parties, followed by a widening circle of the willing. Gestures in other directions would help, too: a stern warning to those who spout hate speech about Kashmiris; an appeal that Kashmiris living in other parts of India be treated with courtesy; an encouragement of other Indians to visit the valley.
Oh, and it’s not too late to tear down Papa-2.