“I realised jihad is the wrong way to set right the issues Kashmir faces”
His WhatsApp status says it all: ‘Don’t judge my past. I don’t live there anymore.’ The 21-year-old Danish Dar lives in Shopian district, once a hotbed of militancy in Kashmir. Just three years ago, like many other young, impressionable teenagers, Danish, too, had wanted to wage jihad against the Indian State. His idol, as was the case for many others, was local hero Burhan Wani, the young Hizbul commander who was killed in an encounter with security forces in July 2016. Influenced by a cousin who lives in Pakistan, Danish went out and bought himself camouflage gear. Then, with a muffler covering his face, he announced via a video circulated on WhatsApp that he was joining the ranks of militants and to watch out for his strikes. He believed his actions would win the admiration of his community and the hearts of the young girls around him.
However, before any of that could happen, the police force in Shopian, headed then by the superintendent of police Sandeep Chaudhary, came across Danish’s WhatsApp message and arrested him. Chaudhary, a bright young IPS officer, believed in a carrotand-stick approach in dealing with militancy. He would wield an iron fist when needed and employ a soft touch for those who he thought deserved to be given a second chance. Rather than incarcerate borderline cases’ like Danish, Chaudhary would call their parents and the elders of their village for a meeting. He would assure them that he would deal with their ward leniently if they were willing to sign and honour an agreement guaranteeing the ‘good behaviour’ of the youth.
Danish’s father, Mohammad Akbar Dar, recalls the day he got that call from Chaudhary’s office. When he heard about the charges against his son, the senior Dar says, “It was as if my son had taken a knife and slashed my heart.” Dar, who has another son and a daughter, says Danish till then had been a bright and diligent student. Dar gave Chaudhary an undertaking that he would take responsibility for his son and pleaded for his release. Chaudhary agreed but had his team keep a close watch on Danish.
Today, as he sits in his modest home in a village not far from Shopian town, Danish recalls those years with a shudder. Wearing an old Tshirt that, ironically, has ‘Childhood memories’ emblazoned on it, Danish says, “I was not in my senses then. I was just 16 and being instigated and influenced by certain people, and I followed them blindly. I didn’t realise what I was doing. I was directionless and was going towards Jahannum (hell).” He thinks of Chaudhary’s intervention as god-sent. “I was in a bad state. But he never raised his hand on me and instead counselled me. He taught me how to live my life and walk on the right path. He put me on the road to true Jannat (paradise),” Danish recounts. “I realised jihad was the wrong way to set right the issues Kashmir faces. If your parents were not willing for you to wage jihad, how could god want it?”
Danish has now joined college, though the Covid outbreak has brought all classes to a halt. He has been using the time to supervise the construction of his father’s house, which is being built using the family’s earnings from their apple orchards. His elder brother tends sheep while his younger sister prepares for her Class 12 board examinations. Shopian itself has seen a dramatic drop in militancy. “The youth here have realised that what they were doing was wrong and that it was getting them nowhere,” says Danish. His ambition now is to join the police force even if it is as a constable. “I can contribute to keeping peace,” he says.
The mood “Our yOuth have realised that what they were dOing in terms Of militancy was wrOng and that it was getting them nOwhere”