Humanizing History

The pain of living under oppression for one more day in the same way! 

The constitutional concessions since 1947 be it the ‘conundrum of partition’ or a ‘dubious accession’ with the government of India have not proven our loyalty to the government of India. We, some of us, however, even if reluctantly, agreed to be a part of India. The main aim of constitution is the delivery of justice, a fair and a progressive society. But the problems for Kashmir never ended. Neither did they end by compromising on accession and accepting a separate constitution, nor did they evaporate by diluting the denominations of Prime Minister or Sadr-i-Riyasat. The sufferings will not go even after abrogation of article 370. Fault lies either in stars or with us! I don’t see this from an academic perspective, because that would demand an expertise on the subject, which I don’t have. I am trying to perceive these events, particularly post 370, through a human angle. 

The storm was gathering in 1986 when I was born. The two of the chief ministers were dismissed by Jagmohan and state was preparing for elections of 1987. I was being milked by mother when events were unfolding. To a child s eye, army was met with dread. I can now correlate my childhood with the events of 90’s after reaching in 30’s. At that time it was an accidental birth into a vicious atmosphere. My upbringing was shaped by the decisions someone took them in 1947. It was a niggardly life with less time to understand what was going around. We humans are handicapped in objectivity. We suck the bias from mother’s milk. Our genes are also the carriers of that understanding. It is not humanly possible to understand the situation around you, unless we reach to a certain point where we are free. 

During 90’s crackdowns and encounters inscribed horrible things in my subconscious. The extreme anger of Indian army was seen. I could not create meanings then, but I did understood that they chase militants, who were our own people.   This led to the shaping of narratives. The awful crackdowns justified the other narrative. This is the story of every Kashmiri. We were oppressed due to which we took sides to solace our conscience. And as a kid if you see your people getting beaten it is hard to understand opposite perspective then.  Our religion and the parochial speeches by leaders shaped narratives, and so did frustrations on socio-economic issues.  A time came when all of this seemed to have gone. We enjoyed college, cricket and being blond. We dived into the dal waters and enjoyed freedom in 2007. We hardly knew 2008 is coming and when it came we were shaken. We had less memories of 90’s but we now had fresh ones.  

In 2008 we saw a hope and incredulity both. The hope toward a solution. We wanted an end to the conflict. We participated in protests. We thought we can force the government to budge towards a solution. We didn’t realize the complexity of issue then. Soon after 2008 I started digging into the pages of Kashmiri history. Together with experience and history I realized that it is a distant dream. But then we carried the flags of uncertainties and walked the mysterious destinies; some of us were tired, some died and some moved on. The dream was vivid and I was watching it like an allegory of any freedom struggle. Curfews and arrests ended the resistance.   The blood that was spilled in 2008 got ice-covered, so did memories. The faintest of memory that year was on the hem of a bridge when some police man pounded stick on my back. The mark of which faded after a month and soul knows how to heel as well.  

The year of 2008 was followed by 2010. We took to streets and found some new leaders who we think were to take us out of the conundrum of partition. I did not find the one. Separatists were clear on their stand, so was government. The students like me where in search of a future. Our economic aspirations in the beginning of 21st century were so high. We wanted to get settled. We focused on that part, mostly. Most of my friends with moist eyes made it to university. We were both sad and happy. Sad because by the end of 2008 a good number of friends died, and happy that we moved ahead. Our frustrations by the end of 2010 were visible. It was going to be tough decade both economically and socially. We were no more kids of 90’s. The obsession of a family and a good carrier would define this decade for our generation. 

By 2015 social media became viral and so did the young population who took to internet. They were hardly born during those crackdowns of 90’s but they took to guns. Social media multiplied and the buzz word by the end of 2015 was Burhan. Together with the passion, youth budge, social media etc. a change was predictable. The cycle of agitations, killings and new wave of ‘recruits’ defined the year 2016. Besides passing through the phase of killings and unlimited persecutions, I suffered a fatigue. I thought I can’t fight this out. It was a rational conclusion drawn out of history. In 1965, 1971, Kargil war, 2008, 2010 and 2016 we could not move an inch rather we were losing every day.   In 2016 it was obvious government is not going to move because of its strong hold domestically and internationally, and due to the weak position of Pakistan.  This only led to the rise of new wave of young people joining the militancy. 

The underwater demon of Jalodbhava -who according to the Nilmatpuran lived under the watered valley until lord Vishnu killed him- lurked and valley was burning and I had no bucket.  Digging into Kashmiri history, the sage Kashyap went to the penance for years to seek help from Vishnu.  Kashyap perhaps felt the pain of valley. All I could see from accession to separate constitution to the dilution of Prime minister’s denomination, a pattern which is similar, Jhalodbhava spirit lurking back. The only difference occurs is that we don’t have sage now. Sages, saint and messiah have heeled us before but Badshah’s and Sheikh Ul Alam’s have either died or have gone to the caves. Budshah was a leader and Sheikh was a healer. We had none in 1947. Can we find ourselves out of this dread? Can we ever find a leader? Can we come out of misery and plight?  My hope certainly doesn’t rest on the restoration of Internet nor over the restoration of autonomy. My hope rests on finding a good leader. 

There is an underlying shame which lives with us every day which is that since 1947 we have failed to influence the government of India in spite of so many sacrifices. Those who believed in Indian constitution failed to prove their loyalty, proving another shame. 

Writing at this time seems so dangerous, it is like carrying a burning coal in ones fist because we know we are being watched. It is, however, futile for the government to be after a lame duck. I believe I am the one and we are all. Even if these words of mine do not fall into the limits of freedom of expression, then I am writing my last word.