It’s looking like dark days ahead.
IN TOURIST- DEPENDENT KASHMIR’S STILLNESS, HOPES WITHER AND HOUSEBOATS SINK
Habib Wangnoo scanned the silvery lake fromthe deck of his vacant houseboat hotel, remembering when he helped Mick Jagger out of a narrow, flat- bottomed canoe during the rock star’s 1981 visit to Kashmir.
Jagger spent most of the next two weeks on the boat’s upper deck, Wangnoo recalled witha smile. The lead singer of the Rolling Stones strummed his black guitar and jammed with Kashmiri folk musicians as they watched the moonlight dance across the Himalayas.
Nomoney
Today, Nagin Lake is desolate and quiet as a tomb, devoid even of the rowing touts who normally trawl the water. There are no tourists, no money and little hope.
“In Kashmir, tourist industry money goes into every pocket from arrival to departure, everybody lives on it,” Wangnoo said. “And now, there is nothing.”
Streets full of soldiers
Kashmir has fallen into a state of suspended animation. Schools are closed. Lockdowns have been imposed, lifted and then reimposed. Once a hub for both Western and Indian tourists, Kashmir has been reeling for more than a year. First, a security clamp down then the coronavirus struck.
The streets are full of soldiers. Military bunkers, removed years ago, are back, and at many places cleave the road. On highways, soldiers stop passenger vehicles to check commuters’ identity cards.
Festering conflict
Conflict in Kashmir has festered for decades. And an armed uprising has long sought self- rule. Tens of thousands of rebels, civilians and security forces have died since 1990.
At risk of going under
Wangnoo’s family had kept afloat during the darkest days of conflict. Through it all, visiting dignitaries, young adventure- seekers and Bollywood stars came to sunbathe on the top deck. This time, the seventh- generation business — wholly dependent on tourism— is at risk of going under.
Houseboats in ill repair
Other houseboat owners have it even worse. The houseboats date to the British colonial era, a clever workaround to restrictions on foreign land ownership. But the elaborately carved cedar vessels are in ill repair and many are sinking.
Political paralysis
Many say paralysis that the political is the worst it has ever been in Kashmir’s 30 years of conflict, and that people have been choked into submission.
Prime Minister Narendra Modi stripped the region of its autonomy and statehood in August 2019, and he promised the move would unleash a flood of new investment and opportunity for the beleaguered region.
Half a million soldiers came, imposing the strictest clampdown Kashmiris have ever seen. The money hasn’t arrived. People say they arem ore scared than they have ever been.
Terrorism charges
Kashmiris who try to vent their anger online against the Indian government are being slapped with terrorism charges.
Many have been detained.
Paramilitary forces appear suddenly. They arrived at the Khanqah of Shah- Hamdan, a Sufi shrine dedicated to Mir Sayed Ali Hamadni, the Persian saint and traveller who brought Islam to the valley.
Brink of collapse
Kashmir’s economy is on the brink of collapse. In the past, even when gun battles between security forces and militants became pervasive, international tourists continued to throng Kashmir’s ski slopes.
Since Indian forces moved in, however, hardly any visitors have come.
Except for a handful of Indian tourists, Wangnoo hasn’t had any guests for more than a year. Within six months, he estimates, he could lose the business and with it the dream of passing it down to the eighth generation, his sons Ebrahim and Akram, in their 20s. “Nobody has been a friend to Kashmir except God.”
‘ There’s no brightness’
With no business to occupy him, one recent afternoon Wangnoo flipped idly through the hotel’s treasured guest book, landing on an exhortation to Sultan, his father, from Jagger: “May you always stay lite and brite.”
Wangnoo clutched the collar of his dark brown pheran as dusk settled over Nagin Lake.
“There’s no brightness,” he said. “It’s looking like dark days ahead.”