[Reader-list] In response to 'A letter from Mumbaikar'

[gowhar fazli]

In response to the 'spirits' of Mumbai, I wish there
was a view from Kashmir where as a civilian (u could
actually add a militant, low a ranking army recruit)
you are really fucked!  (Please don't get me wrong. I
am not saying Mumbai is not a hellhole!)

But consider this... you have a state, which is
hostile to you because you do not fit into its notion
of an Indian (u r a potential threat) and you are
bombed by the terrorists/militants/jihadists/state
agencies (take your pick of suspects) to count as a
figure in their list of atrocities.

The 'spirit of Kashmir' is to continue with life and
retain your humour despite all this.  To humour the
army fellow who is stranded and forlorn by your shop
and occasionally sell him a shawl
 while knowing that
next day he might kill you or set your house on fire!
To continue with 'normal’ life while you judge from
your living room... precise target of the blast or
cross firing that is happening... while wondering if
half an hours pause before you leave for the grocery
is decently safe. 

You don't have a nation to share your suffering with. 
You have agencies all overlapping and
interpenetrating.  The distinction between militant
and the state is very hazy.  In this situation you
have to be extremely dexterous to survive.
 
You can't believe in your tormentors, any of them. 
You cannot possibly love them.  You can't speak
against them. You have nobody to protest to or demand
justice from. 

See actually the larger political scenario is like
this:

You have taken on (vishal) Hindustan.  Hindustan has
taken on you.  Pakistan has taken on Hindustan.
Hindustan has taken on Pakistan.  Fundamentalists have
taken on Hindustan and rest of the world. Hindustan
and rest of the world has taken on the
fundamentalists... We are all at it very seriously in
a ditch (the valley) 142 by 38 kilometers in
dimension! Hale the glory!!


Unfortunately, the balance of nature decrees that a super-abundance of dreams is paid for by a growing potential for nightmares.   
      
Love is an act of endless forgiveness, a tender look which becomes a habit. 

Peter Ustinov

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