Kashmir: Between a rock and a hard place

One of the most beautiful places on the planet is stuck in a vicious cycle of violence. Popularly known as the Venice of the East, the valley of Kashmir finds itself sandwiched between competing narratives and daily skirmishes

The valley sits atop a powderkeg. There is anger, frustration and a sense of loss. The lack of a political dialogue or engagement, prerequisite to any meaningful resolution of the problem, has become a sticking point.

Growing up in the Kashmir of the 80s was balmy. Visitors swarmed about the Dal lake in Srinagar. Western tourist broachers encouraged adventure sport enthusiasts to try Gulmarg for the ultimate powder ski experience of their lives. No Bollywood movie was complete without a mandatory romantic songand-dance sequence pictured somewhere in the lush meadows of Kashmir. When you inhabit a landscape that is the muse of poets and a haven for holidaymakers, you seldom notice what the fuss is all about. Just when our childhoods, spent playing in the apple fragrance of countryside Kashmir, melded into teenage, we barely noticed. Then suddenly, like a curse put on it, all the gaiety and joy came to a standstill. Violence engulfed the valley.

It is often convenient for journalists and commentators to blame politics for all the mess in the world. Of course politicians share a degree of blame since most conflicts draw from the wellspring of flawed politics. While the historical and political nature of the narrative cannot be changed, what leaves one aghast is the social upheaval that the conflict in Kashmir has brought about. I don’t know whether it is the frivolous lure of violence or the rejection of status quo that gnaws at the soul of the valley but what seems to be happening is that collectively, as a society, Kashmir has almost reached an inflection point. As a way to deal with the grief inside, raw emotions are imploding in a myriad different ways, some not very pleasant. Last year summer gave the slip in Kashmir. From June to September normality eluded its citizens. It was one of the harshest periods in the lives of ordinary men and women. There were no newspapers, no internet, no schools, no business and no offices. Streets were converted into impromptu battle zones where young men, some too young for beards, engaged security forces in daylong battle of wits. Cops chased protesters along the pastures of Kashmir, wild with the bloom of a million flowers. It just went on and on. Everyday there was more violence, more body bags, more mayhem. Sufi shrines, which dot the landscape, lay eerily abandoned. Grown-ups cooled their heels at home. Children, confined to homes for months at a stretch, became skittish. It is a tragedy when you are confined to the walls of your home in what is inarguably one of the most beautiful places on Earth. With its crystal-clear streams, Kashmir is home to some of the finest trout in Asia. The fish swim in numerous snow-fed streams like Lidder, Gurez, Tangmarg, Aharbal, Dachigam and Kokernag. Come summers we used to go angling. It came naturally to a lot of us. You started off in the morning, made your way past thick forests of pine, green meadows and prancing rice crop before making a pit stop at the Firozpur stream, for instance.

The sheer thrill of angling in an ice-cold stream or along one of Kashmir’s aquamarine lakes was just one of the many perks of growing up in the lap of nature. All that seems distant memory now. With security agencies predicting another ‘hot’ summer in 2017, who will go fly-fishing for Kashmir’s brown and rainbow trout? Like last year and the year before, anglers shall put off their plans for fishing trips to Yousmarg and Gangbal yet again.

Newest preoccupation

Older generation fondly remember times when the shrines of the valley used to be abuzz with worship songs. The reverence has dwindled along with the tintinnabulation of old temples. It is the perpetual postponement of these little joys that seem to have marred the beauty of Kashmir permanently. People have retreated into angry shells. The valley sits atop a powder-keg. There is anger, frustration and a sense of loss. The lack of a political dialogue or engagement, prerequisite to any meaningful resolution of the problem, has become a sticking point. There is rigid positioning, digging in of heels on all sides and utter hopelessness. The rise of the right wing in India hasn’t helped matters either. Social media is making opinions on Kashmir more toxic.

Video wars are the newest preoccupation, with disturbing footage driving the outrage. No wonder most Kashmiris find themselves toggled between being marginally expressive and almost songlike. With summer around the corner, the white cheeked Bulbuls have already arrived in the gardens of Srinagar. Let’s hope they pick up the right tune.