KASHMIRIS • Violence since the 1990s

Kashmiri rights. Protests made their way to various parts of the United States, and opponents see the move as the Hindu-led party continuing to discriminate against religious minorities in India, including a new citizenship law that would prevent Muslim migrants from naturalizing.

For Kashmiri Pandits, the situation is more nuanced. Several speak of Article 370’s removal as a symbol: the hope of returning home, the promise of development to the valley and a more diverse, integrated society. As protests against the article’s removal continue, several Pandits are asking why their voices and stories continue to be ignored.

“What has confounded and frustrated us more recently is that while there’s been a huge hue and cry about the way the government has gone about the abrogation of Article 370, and the difficulties the local populace has faced as a result, no one seems to be bothered about the half a million indigenous people,” said Thusoo.

Violence escalated in the 1990s, with Pandits killed, targeted and bombed. Their smaller numbers left them more vulnerable, something they say the revocation could change.

“We feel like there will now be more protections for minorities under central Indian law,” said Sanju Raina, 49, a resident of North County.

Now that previous bans on other Indians owning land have been lifted, Vikram Kachru looks forward what he calls a slow, but steady diversification of the valley.

“When you’ve got numbers that are favoring only one side, and I’m not talking about religion, it’s nature’s rule that if you have too much of one thing, the balance is off,” said Kachru, who directs the “Zone 10” division on the West Coast, part of the nonprofit Kashmiri Overseas Association. “It’s not fair, it’s not democratic. Your voice is never heard because you’re a minority.”

A silent march in October brought awareness to the past exodus, taking place across three continents. A month later, the California Democratic Party endorsed the Pandit community members’ right to return to their homeland, stating that their stories were crucial to understanding Kashmir’s history. Modi also met with community members during his recent trip to Texas, promising them their cause was not forgotten.

Sunil Kumar, a Rancho Bernardo resident, helped organize a recent talk in Miramar about the issue.

“There was a discussion about Article 370 at UCSD, but we felt like it was biased,” said Kumar. “They didn’t allow us to ask questions openly.”

Local San Diego government officials were invited to bring more awareness to the cause, with representatives from Rep. Scott Peters’ office attending.

Though not a Pandit himself, Kumar met several Kashmiri students when he taught in India. They often spoke of the lack of development and opportunities in their home state, closed off to outside investment. The removal of Article 370 could improve this, he said.

“When the business climate improves, they will see the benefits,” Kumar said, adding he believes that current curfews and media blackouts are measures to prevent violent outbreaks. “It will also loosen the grip of certain political families who have had a vested interest in letting things stay as they are.”

Thusoo and his wife, Neelu, acknowledge that going back won’t come easily, or even quickly. The trauma is still strong.

One night in particular stands out to the community, they said.

On Jan. 19, 1990, mosques in the capital of Srinagar began to blare messages from loudspeakers. They called for freedom from India, to take back Kashmir and a warning for Pandits.

“‘Leave, convert or die.’ It was relentless,” said Thusoo. “I would say the veil fell from our eyes and we saw the truth.”

Neelu was a medical student in southern India in the ’90s, not fully aware of what was unfolding at home. She remembers relatives anxiously on the phone with each other, “thinking they could be killed at any minute,” she said. Her family left soon after, but she never had the chance to go back, she added.

While the diaspora is scattered around several countries today, Kachru credits the community’s high education standards for pulling them out of difficult situations, with many eventually finding jobs after their forced migration. A large number of Pandits originally went to the neighboring territory of Jammu, where thousands continue to live in refugee camps. Raina, the North County resident, spent some time volunteering there.

“I could see the trauma, the violence that broke out,” he said. “We were always a peaceful people. We were bitter about [the situation].”

It’s a pain that never fully faded.

“It’s been 22 years, but my day starts with reading the newspaper from Kashmir,” he said. “I go on Google Maps everyday and look at where my house used to be, the mountains I loved, the lakes I used to swim in.”

Del Mar resident Sanju Koul saw these traumas extend to the multiple communities, which he says were also victimized by radical insurgents.

“Both Hindus and Muslims have suffered immensely,” he said. “Some of the Muslims just wanted to be left alone [by radicals], but they got messed up in the same way we did.”

In California, community members sought one another for support. A West Coast camp is held for elders and the youth to gather and learn about their heritage, language and culture. They celebrate Shivratri, a festival held in honor of deity Lord Shiva, as well as Diwali.

The Thusoos are committed to passing down that legacy to their son, a culture that can’t be fully taught without returning to their homeland, they said.

Koul said he hasn’t contemplated the idea of returning. What Article 370 will ultimately mean remains to be seen, he said.

“Hindus in general are saying it’s good, Muslims in general are saying its bad,” he said. “It all depends on how the situation unfolds in the future. If the quality of life for an average Kashmiri improves, it’s good. But otherwise, it’s just another wound to a Kashmiri.”

Hafsa Fathima was a U-T intern.