Thursday, April 22, 2021

Book Review : 'Kashmir : Rage and Reason' by Gowhar Geelani

 Short Verdict : It's a must read. Go get it if you want to understand Kashmir.


Longer review :

This book is a must-read for anyone who wants to understand the overall Kashmir situation. The title of the book is an apt one 'Kashmir : Rage and Reason' as the author tries to explain the situation and reasons for the anger and the struggle of Kashmiris.

It talks about Kashmir - past, present and possibilities and hope for the future - as well as Kashmiri culture, religion, diversity, history, politics, art, resistance and so much more. It outlines every aspect of the complexity of the Kashmir situation clearly... from multiple perspectives.

The narrative is from the perspective of a Kashmiri who has seen Kashmir before 1989 and has lived in a very different one thereafter - someone who sees with anguish what is being done to the youth of Kashmir and decides to write about it. It is no wonder that the first two chapters are dedicated to stories of these youth... stories and experiences of real people and what leads them to the choices they make and what the consequences of those choices are - for Kashmir as well as for the future of all the stakeholders.

The book is very informative, well-structured, easy to read, thought-provoking and written in a journalistic tone - with references - trying to maintain objectivity and facts. And yet, despite the journalistic tone, it left me filled with anguish and despair.

The book starts with the 'Preface' where the author describes his childhood prior to 1989 - a fun, playful childhood which was about plotting apple and almond thefts along with cousins from under the noses of grandparents or aunts and uncles.... or of concocting ice-cream from icicles in winter. "The only tense moments in our life were to avoid being seen by our elders plucking apples or stealing powdered milk or cookies from the kitchen.." ... or his memories of playing cricket and being fascinated by commentary.. and trying to wriggle out of going to the mosque for prayer in unpleasant weather... A normal childhood...

And how this normal world turned into a world of bullets and armed resistance and where the vocabulary now included words and phrases like curfew, crackdown, cordon, custody killing, interrogation, detention, disappearance....

This preface sets the tone for the rest of the book which is a well-structured account of the complex Kashmir situation; its history, politics, culture, diversity, accounts of resistance - whether armed or through art, music, poetry - of the leadership or lack thereof - of trust and betrayal, of hope and horror, of human rights abuses and Kashmiri aspirations. And at every point my mind kept going back to the stark contrast with Kashmir before 1989.

The first chapter of the book starts with the flashpoint of Burhan Wani's killing, and moves on to stories of other youth who followed the same path. It then addresses the reasons for these choices and outlines the political and other ideologies that play a role. The fourth chapter describes the history of the Kashmiri struggle starting from 1931 which is the reason for the struggle and the political aspirations. I read these first four chapters in one go because I simply could not put the book down. From there the author talks about the efforts to bring peace to the valley where even Kashmiris gave peace a chance (but that didn't materialise) and then moves on to stories of resistance and how people have used different ways to resist the atrocities and human rights abuses. The next two chapters focus on these rights abuses that people in Kashmir have endured (including Pandits and their migration) and what the media and journalists have faced over the last 3 decades in Kashmir. The last two chapters are about the various formulae that have been proposed to bring peace to the valley over the years and how Kashmiri leadership has failed its people. It finally ends on the question of whether all stakeholders will finally step up and bring peace to the valley.

More details on each chapter below:

Chapter 1 - 'Teenager to Rebel Icon' - is about Burhan Wani and it establishes the support that any form of resistance still enjoys in Kashmir even decades into the conflict. (The charisma of a young, good-looking, militant in contrast to the jaded, tired rhetoric of other leaders also possibly had something to do with it).

"Lakhs of people attended the (Burhan) funeral and formed human chains to protect militant leaders."
"In the cycle of protest that followed, at least ninety civilians were killed and over 15,000 injured, including women and children as young as between one to fourteen years."
It tells the story of why the young rebel picked up arms and describes the revival of a waning militancy in Kashmir.

Chapter 2 - 'Why Tral 'Bleeds Green' '
The story moves from one Burhan to many others in the next chapter. The second chapter talks about Tral and the political awareness of the people from that region and their unapologetic stance for self-determination for Kashmir and their support for armed resistance because Delhi disregards protests (perhaps peaceful forms of protest). The chapter narrates stories of the militants and why they chose the path, while also clarifying that the 'number of people to have joined the ranks of rebels remains small and largely symbolic' and backing it with official figures. The fact that these boys or young men enjoyed local support was due to the fact that they were mostly locals and the other local Kashmiris respected their individual choices. Most of the stories are of boys and young men who were well-educated. "There are enough people in Kashmir who feel that India treats Kashmir as enemy territory to be grabbed for its land even if it means oppressing its people." (And boy, haven't we proved them right)

Chapter 3 - Homeland or Caliphate? - moves from individual stories of the resistance to why this is happening.. what is the conflict all about. Is it political or Islamist.. or a struggle for political, human and economic rights.. or something else.. and it further goes on to describe and discuss the complex web of the political history as well the ideologies and writings of leaders and of the various players including religious, political and militant outfits - as well as the social and cultural aspects of the Kashmir issue.

Chapter 4 - 'A Nationalism of Multiple Identities' - starts with a personal account by the author at Delhi airport where he is asked if he is related to 'firebrand Kashmiri separatist leader Syed Ali Shah Geelani who is seeking freedom from India'.

"This is what a Kashmiri faces on a daily basis. You are a suspect, your credentials are questioned and you are judged. It doesn't matter how many times you stand up and say, 'I'm Kashmiri, I'm also a Muslim and I'm not a terrorist. But I do have legitimate political aspirations!'"

The author then goes on to explain the historical context of these political aspirations starting from 1931 when the first political mobilisation of Kashmiri Muslims against Dogra rule is supposed to have happened. The chapter details the political history of Kashmir from then to now - from the first resistance to the formation of Kashmir's first political party AJKMC and the emergence of Sheikh Abdullah as a leader.. from communist and socialist ideas to the Quit Kashmir movement to Indo-Pak partition and Kashmir's (conditional and provisional) accession to India all the way till 2008 with all the twists and turns and political manoeuvres one can expect from a place as complex as Kashmir. It's a fascinating chapter and a very well-researched one.

Chapter 5 - 'Violence to Non-violence : A Lost Opportunity' - starts with the author talking about growing up in the shadow of a gun, soldiers marching on streets, stopping, frisking, asking for identity proofs, being made to do push-ups on a whim - basically a daily humiliation which made fear a staple.

There is a childhood anecdote of bravado and attempts at defiance and a couple of other anecdotes - a rare personal inclusion by the author in this book - and they show what daily life for Kashmiris was (is) like under occupation by armed forces.. and on the other hand the fear of rebel outfits who would retaliate against those deemed 'informers', targeting both Muslims and Kashmiri Pandits. Fear, mourning, suppression of dissent, crushing any middle ground, Pandit migration, armed resistance, periods of ceasefire, brief rays of hope during 2003 and Vajpayee-Musharraf attempts at peace, opening of the Srinagar-Muzaffarabad road and the bus service, the hope and the loss of that hope and continued oppression - are all covered in this chapter.

Chapter 6 - 'A New Language of Resistance' - is perhaps the most heartbreaking one in the book. I have to confess that I had to put down the book for a bit midway through this chapter because it was just too overwhelming.

Kashmiris are generally well-read and politically aware but "... the onset of militancy and counter-insurgency negatively impacted this rich tradition of perceptive and passionate conversations on world affairs in the once vibrant social settings... (but) Kashmiris are finding new and innovative ways to talk... to tell their stories.."

Poetry, books, authors, cartoonists, chroniclers, prison diaries, art, cricket are all discussed here and some gut-wrenching poems are also included as well as accounts of protests by relatives of 'disappeared' persons.

Chapter 7 - 'Hell in Paradise'
As the title suggests, the chapter is dedicated to the violence, oppression and human rights abuses of the last 3 decades - firing on peaceful protests, suppressing dissent in every way.... It also outlines the Pandit migration / exodus from the valley with figures of the killings and numbers of families who migrated.
(I recall reading somewhere else, an essay that outlined how sudden the migration was and how sudden announcements were made asking Pandits to leave overnight as the government told them that they could not ensure their safety. Missed that aspect in this chapter but it could perhaps be that there wasn't adequate evidence available for the same - for the author has taken a lot of trouble to give valid references for all claims and accounts in the book).

Chapter 8 - 'Media Wars' - describes the difficult situations in which the media in Kashmir has been operating for 3 decades. Like the people, but much more so, the media has been stuck between the two guns - of the state and of the militants. "At times in the early stages of the conflict, threats of violence and kidnappings made news of journalists themselves. At other times, journalists had to agonise over what to write : highlighting militants' remarks made them guilty of 'glorifying' or 'romanticising' them, while carrying official statements meant they would be branded 'government agents'.".

Besides this, the chapter also talks about state coercion, lack of women journalists, the struggle to maintain objectivity in a conflict zone, targeting of journalists and violence against them and much more - along with a couple of personal stories. It really puts into perspective the struggle of true journalists and also makes one think about how easy it is for us to sit at home and demand fair, free and independent journalism while actual journalists are out there literally putting their lives at risk every day - especially in conflict areas like Kashmir. There is also a section on Delhi-based parachute journalists who fly in to frame the narrative into one that suits the government.

Chapter 9 - 'The Path Ahead'
"In 2012, there was one government armed person for every seventeen Kashmiris" (after Aug 5, 2019, the ratio became 1:10, I read somewhere at the time)This chapter outlines the stated positions of India, Pakistan and the people of Kashmir and then goes on to also inform about the positions of various political parties in Kashmir and the various formulae that have been proposed to resolve the situation, among other interesting perspectives and anecdotes.

Chapter 10 - 'A Leadership Crisis'
As the name suggests, this chapter talks about how the political and other leadership has let down Kashmir and Kashmiris with their changing stances based on political expediency with the objective of holding on to power. In fact, when the going got tough, many of these leaders have spoken against their own people. It also comes back to the issue of youngsters picking up arms - mostly after some form of betrayal or abuse at the hands of someone in power.
(The lack of space for dissent, the constant fear and surveillance, the excesses by armed forces - all have played a role in bringing Kashmir to the misery and the youth to the fate that they choose. The book doesn't say so explicitly but to my mind the biggest failure of the leadership has been in not being able to protect their people from these atrocities for even a fraction of the decades that they have endured this. How do you not fight to protect your own people?)

The book, thus, deals with almost all social, cultural and political aspects of the Kashmir struggle.
One final observation - I really respect that the language of the book reflects the dignity of the Kashmiri people - they remain dignified and humane despite what they face on a daily basis. The book outlines the Kashmir situation and their political position clearly and unapologetically and manages to frame the narrative for Kashmir from a Kashmiri perspective - which is what the author says he set out to do.

The author returned to Kashmir from Europe to write about his homeland and that itself speaks of the love and courage involved in writing it. I hope you will read it.

Saturday, March 21, 2020

Every Lota Counts... in the times of coronavirus

There's an Akbar - Birbal story that fits the current times.. (actually all times)
Once Akbar's well ran dry. He called Birbal and asked him what's to be done.
Birbal suggested asking the subjects to contribute to the refilling of the well.


Akbar agreed so Birbal asked the royal announcers to go out and ask every subject to bring one lota (can) of milk and pour it in the well.

Akbar was perplexed. "We need water not milk, Birbal."

Birbal asked him to have faith.


So the announcement was made and all the people of the land brought one lota each and poured it into the well.

At the end of the week, the well was full - of water.

Akbar was shocked and enraged. He had asked for milk and got water.


Birbal, who understood human nature, told Akbar... "Everyone was asked to bring milk but each person thought 'mere ek lota paani see kya hoga'.." (what difference will it make if my one can has water not milk)

Every lota makes a difference. U make a difference.

Thursday, September 29, 2016

A lot of good

Living in the city and following a routine limits life's experiences - not always but mostly so.. Travel opens up a whole new world of interaction with strangers in unknown lands which allows one to see the good in humanity. I've had a number of such experiences during my recent Himalayan trek to Uttarakhand.

We were out for a trek + roadtrip to Valley of flowers, Hemkund Saheb & Badrinath. The drive from Rishikesh to Gobindghat was to be done in a Sumo, while the next part was a trek through the mountains. As always happens during car rides, I started suffering a severe bout of mountain sickness. It was so bad I could barely move. Around an hour into the drive, we reached a langar point where my co-travellers got off to freshen up and have some tea and pakodas that were being served. A group of pilgrims who were going to Hemkund Saheb from Sangrur also stopped here. We immediately requested them to loan us one of the bikes as it helps alleviate motion sickness and one of them readily offered his and took our place in the SUV. Riding on the bike for some 40 kms odd helped tremendously and the rest of the journey became much easier. It was only after I got back in the Sumo that the driver told me that these yatris never part with their bikes. He was extremely surprised at and I was extremely grateful for their kindness.

The best set of experiences came on the way to Hemkund Saheb. We left bit late as compared to most other pilgrims who leave by 4 a.m. or 5 a.m. to start the ascent - while we left only by 7 a.m. As such, we had very little company on the way up - only a few mules who were taking people and goods up to the Gurudwara. The climb to the gurudwara is extremely steep and we had climbed for a good 2.5 hrs and thought we were almost there, only to cross the tree-line and discover that we had not even covered the halfway mark. Climbing further took us to an altitude above 12,000 ft and I started to feel the effects of AMS where every step was an ordeal and breathing was laboured. We crossed a bunch of dhabas and I decided I could not go on anymore. Asked my group to move ahead and I started my descent. Going lower in altitude helped and after going down around 500 ft. I stopped to rest on bench and to catch my breath. The AMS seemed to have vanished by now and as I was sitting there, an old man with a white flowing beard, who was on his way down from the gurudwara, stopped and asked me if I was going up or down and if I needed anything. Told him I was feeling unwell and so going down without reaching the gurudwara. He probably meant to console me and said "Never mind. You can go back tomorrow or another time." Gosh.. Those words made me look all the way down to Ghangharia and the tremendous amount of climbing we had done already and I decided to go right back up instead of attempting this whole thing again. I was also feeling a bit guilty about not attempting to reach the gurudwara even though I was feeling better.

So I once again started climbing back up and now had to cover the extra 500 ft of altitude that I had descended and was cursing myself for not stopping to rest at that dhaba cluster itself! As I was climbing, there were more pilgrims coming down from the gurudwara. All of them encouraged me and said that I would definitely make it up - and all gave varying degrees of time estimations. It was exhausting to do the climb again and I trudged along slowly. One gentleman gave me his walking stick saying it would help me climb faster, another offered me water with electral / enerzal. :-)

I kept on going and by the time I reached back at the dhaba cluster, I was completely out of breath and out of water. One dhaba owner gave me a glass of cold water and also offered to fill my water bottle. I kept going. It was sunny and cloudy intermittently and I could not determine whether the weather would hold or whether it would start pouring. My only solace was that my group of friends was still up there and that I would have company on the way down.

It was getting quite late and was almost 1:30 p.m. when I reached a point from where there were two paths leading to the gurudwara - one a steep set of stairs and another the trail that I was following. I was afraid that if I took one path and my group went down the other, we would miss each other. Not only would I have to go back down alone (the number of pilgrims going down was dwindling as most had already headed back) but my group would also worry about me on not finding me back at the hotel, since they did not know that I was heading back up.

I met a few people and described the clothes my friends were wearing and gave their names and told them that if they came across such a group on the way back, they should let them know that I had gone back up. They all assured me they would and some also recommended that I take a mule for the last leg so that I could reach the gurudwara in time. I had seen the sore and bleeding backs of the mules and I decided that it was ok if I didn't reach the gurudwara but I would not inflict pain on a poor animal and with this resolve I kept climbing. I met one more group with a teenager who were going down. I stopped them and told them also to inform my group. The teenager (Gurpreet) gave me glucose to carry with me and to have bit by bit - and also advised me to slow down and breathe deeply since he could see that I was out of breath. I took his advice and moved on only to find him back with me 5 mins later. He said his mom had asked him to accompany me all the way back to the gurudwara to make sure I reached safely. I was so very touched by this gesture..! However, it was still a long walk and I couldn't possibly expect him to climb back for another half hour with me. I thanked him and sent him back saying the best help would be if he could inform my friends, should he come across them. He turned back reluctantly and I moved on. 15 mins later I was exhausted and could not imagine climbing any more and that's when I saw my friends coming down the trail. They had got me prasad from the gurudwara and told me that the gurudwara had shut and that it would be best to turn back since the weather looked like it would turn bad any time. I was disappointed but I also realised that I was too tired and out of breath to go any further and I turned back with them.

On the way down, my condition deteriorated to the point where I had to sleep on the path and on benches to regain strength to go back down. The glucose and prasad came in handy there. :-) 

It took a long time to descend and it was past 6:30 p.m. by the time we reached the end of the path. There I saw Gurpreet sitting on a bund wall with a few friends. He had reached Ghangaria by 4 p.m. and had been sitting at the end of that path ever since just to make sure I came back safely. He had tried to look for my group on the way down but not having found them, had taken it upon himself to make sure I got back. I was touched to the point of tears. I had never expected that a stranger would go through so much trouble to ensure my safety. I thanked him profusely though no amount of thanks was enough. Between his gesture and those of all the people who helped me en route, I found a kindness and a kinship I have rarely experienced before. 


I have no pictures of any of these people as I was in no state to take selfies.. nor did I get most of their names.. but I hope they know, especially Gurpreet, that I will always remember and cherish this experience and will always be grateful for all of them. At that point I did not mind at all that I did not reach the gurudwara for I realised that I had met the spirit of babaji every step of the way.. :-)

Saturday, April 30, 2016

Design V/s Art

In my view there is a fundamental difference between the two.

"Design responds to people and art responds to situations."

Thoughts?

Friday, October 30, 2015

The traffic signal conversation

Stuck at a traffic signal, I happened to eavesdrop on a conversation between the panditji driver and the Muslim passenger sitting next to him. (I know this from the way they were dressed and the way they spoke).

The cab driver was asking the passenger about his children. Passenger replied that he has two daughters.

Cabbie: kya karti hain woh?

Passenger: school mein hain. Ek char saal ki hai, ek saat saal ki.

Cabbie: yehi accha hai beta. School toh jaana hi chahiye.

Passenger: school bhejne se hi aage kucch accha karengi

Cabbie: bas bacchon ko padha likha ke acche aur kaabil insan banaa doh. Itna hi toh chahiye beta..

This tiny snippet of overheard conversation made my day. I still have hope for this city.

Thursday, March 26, 2015

Mumbai's Growing Elitism

Mumbai's obsession with cars is now a well-known story. The entire infrastructure is developed and modernized to facilitate movement of private vehicles while public transport takes a backseat. The new coast road project and the multiple flyovers are just a few examples. Even the metro has hiked fares such that working class people cannot afford to use it for their daily commute.

This is not the only story though. In the recent past, there has been more segregation based on economic situations of people. Flyovers like the JJ flyover, worli-bandra sealink, eastern freeway, etc. are not open to bikes or autos. Same is the case with roads leading to the airports; both domestic and international. The new overhead road linking the western express highway to the new international terminal is not open to autorickshaws and bikes. They still have to take the old trafficky route. The swanky roads are only open to cars and taxis.

The domestic terminal has separate halt points for autos and bikes which are away from the main entrance of the terminals. They're about a 5-min walk but still - the message seems to be that these vehicles do not deserve to be seen at the swanky exterior of the terminals.

Prepaid taxis or fleet taxis are the only options to exit from the airports. The prepaid taxis charge almost 3.5-4 times what a regular taxi would charge but that's the only recourse available. If one does not want to spend that much, one has to walk for about 15 minutes to reach the nearest main road from where one can get a regular cab. The metro runs just a kilometer or two away from the new international terminal; yet no effort has been made to connect the two to make travel easier for passengers.

The nexus between taxi unions and policymakers, obsession with private vehicles and overall disdain for public transport has all contributed to making commuting in Mumbai an absolute nightmare and to segregation based on economic status.

Friday, February 7, 2014

Taking sides

These lines from a Boston Legal episode ring so true for this country today..


Denny Crane: You do love America.
Alan Shore: Of course I do. I didn’t agree with the string our government attached to the money in this case, but we have every right to attach strings to the funds we give.
Denny Crane: That’s my boy.
Alan Shore: I’m your friend, Denny, but I’m not your boy. That’s what troubles me. This notion that we have to take sides in this country now, you’re either with us or against us, Republican or Democrat, red state or blue state.
Denny Crane: I can’t believe I live in a blue state. I mean...
Alan Shore: No one looks at an issue and struggles over the right position to take anymore. And yet, our ability to reason is what makes us human. Lately, we seem so willing to forfeit that gift of reason in exchange for the good feeling of belonging to a group. We all just take the position of our team. I’ve certainly done it and hated myself for it.
Denny Crane: I’ve never heard you make so much sense.
Alan Shore: I make sense all the time; you just listen intermittently