The problem
CONTESTED borderlands are a graveyard of hopes, and dreams. Apprehension, fear and bitterness, however, are invariably in abundance. A prisoner to both history and geography, for over six decades now Kashmir has remained a contested terrain, a real estate battleground over which warring nation states seem to have created their raison d’ętre. The Pakistani leadership, military or civilian, may well believe that Kashmir is integral to their idea of a Muslim homeland, the unfinished business of Partition. The Indian leadership too may well believe that a ‘loss’ of Kashmir may well mean an end to the ‘idea of India’. Just how this justifies holding a people hostage to abstract notions of nation states remains both a mystery and tragedy.
The ‘costs’ of remaining captive to frozen ideas and beliefs – four wars; over two decades of armed insurgency and terrorism; an overwhelming presence of armed forces; thousands of civilians killed, maimed, tortured, detained, disappeared, and what have you – have so far done little to persuade the different dramatis personae that holding firm to what they consider non-negotiable cannot deliver any breakthrough. They forget that war begets war, creating a self-perpetuating rationale that impairs the ability to talk to one’s neighbour and effect a workable compromise.
Kashmir, in many ways, is a story of missed opportunities. Be it 1953, when Nehru, uncertain and fearful about the ambitions of Sheikh Abdullah, decided to imprison him and begin the murky chapter of central intervention; 1987, when the Congress-National Conference coalition conspired to rig and steal the election, in the process both destroying the hope in democratic electoral politics generated by the first ‘free and fair’ elections of 1977 and creating the grounds for the growth of militant insurgency which soon, with help from Pakistan, spiralled out of control; or now, when after years of conflict and bloodshed, it appeared that the situation might finally settle down to enable a serious political settlement, the execution of Afzal Guru. Once again, many fear that the hopes generated by the first ever visit of an All Party Delegation, followed subsequently by the recommendations of the Interlocutors’ Report, will be dashed.
Part of the difficulty of making sense of Kashmir is that the dominant discourse is over-determined by the ‘political’ and the state is usually reduced to the Valley. When state actors – Indian, Pakistani and Kashmiri – and militants/separatists become the principal, if not the only, interlocutors, it is hardly surprising that most conversation centres around proposals concerning the status of the LoC; moving beyond Article 370 to discuss issues of regional autonomy and decentralization; reducing the presence of armed forces and reconsidering the Armed Forces Special Powers Act; dealing with human rights violations, and so on. We continue to live in a world of trauma and loss, forever searching whom to blame while painting ourselves as innocent victims.
Often forgotten, and disregarded in the process are the stories of everyday life and living all across the state. The Kashmir of 2013 is very different from the one of memory, as ordinary Kashmiris – across religious, cultural and regional divides – struggle to rework their lives, both within the state and elsewhere. Kashmiri youth, like the young anywhere, have new aspirations – of education and employment, of a life of dignity, of being able to discover their agency.
The years of militancy have also seen the growth of wealth, of investments in real estate, tourism, crafts, horticulture and new industry. These years have also witnessed a first-ever elections to panchayats and local bodies, enabling in part a better response to local problems. Most significant is the growth in numbers of Kashmiri youth, boys and girls across communities, enrolling in professional colleges across the country, seeking jobs elsewhere and even setting up businesses. The growing prosperity, albeit of a narrow strata, and its steady incorporation into an all-India middle class too is impacting on the politics and psyche of the people in the state.
The shadow of the past will not disappear; all to often it threatens to overwhelm the present. More than likely if all key actors – from political parties to the separatists/militants, security forces to peace and reconciliation lobbies – continue to be governed by a fear of change, terrified that if their favoured analysis/positions are overtaken by the shifts on the ground, they may soon become irrelevant. But to let the past imprison the present, and the future, is to accept death. This issue of Seminar, the fourth in as many decades (June 1964, 58; April 1992, 392; December 2000, 496) while rooted in the contemporary is dedicated to hope.
