[Reader-list] kashmiriyat by Meena Arora Nayak

[rashneek kher]

Dear Friends,

That this author calls Hari Parbat,(Hari's mount) is itself a testament to
how little she knows.
One more Kashmir Expert.

Regards

rashneek

On Wed, Sep 17, 2008 at 8:32 AM, inder salim <indersalim at gmail.com> wrote:

> http://www.worldviewmagazine.com/issues/article.cfm?id=106&issue=25
>
> KASHMIRIYAT
>
> An embracing spirit languishes like the dying chinar tree
>
> by Meena Arora Nayak
>
> Lal Chowk surprised me. Instead of crumbling stores, I saw in them
> merchandise piled high. Instead of the evidence of battles, I saw
> vendors and vehicles competing for street space. Instead of
> fear-stricken people, I saw a crowded marketplace, brimming with
> activity. When I expressed my surprise to Arshad, my escort, he told
> me that the state officials repaired all damages almost overnight-a
> ruse to convince the people or, perhaps, themselves that the situation
> was just as repairable. As for the people in the market, he said,
> "Life goes on. In fact, within 20 minutes of an incident every thing
> goes back to normal. We have become so used to it."
>
> We bought the cheese and as we strolled through the crowds, we heard a
> crash-thunderous-and the earth trembled under our feet. Within a
> minute, everything changed. Bustling streets became fear-filled
> confusion. Storekeepers pulled down shutters; vendors and vehicles
> became entangled in flight; people ran in all directions, pushing
> against each other, stumbling over wares laid out on sidewalks. As I
> stood rooted to the ground, suspended in this surreal dimension, a
> young woman ran past us, her bright yellow duppatta, which a minute
> ago had probably covered her head in modesty, flying off her shoulder
> in a trail of fire.
>
> Arshad and I began walking towards the site, shouldering our way past
> people fleeing in the opposite direction. "What do you think it was?"
> I asked Arshad. "A police encounter? A terrorist's grenade?"
>
> "Not an encounter," he said. "No shots." He paused. "No screams. There
> were no screams."
>
> As we turned the corner, a small crowd of men gathered around an
> embankment. Leaving Arshad's side, I elbowed my way into the crowd,
> determined to see the blatant tragedy of Kashmir. And there it was: a
> chinar tree 20-some meters in height and 12-some meters in girth,
> felled to the ground. Chinar is a Persian word meaning "what a fire."
> In late autumn, the chinar bursts into flames, its palm-sized leaves
> smoldering in colors from passionate purple to blazing red. In 1596,
> the great Mughal Emperor of India, Akbar, planted the first grove of
> chinars in a garden in Srinagar, the summer capital of Jammu and
> Kashmir. Since then, the chinar in Kashmir has become a dominant
> feature of the landscape, and its connotations have become an idiom
> both artistic and dialectic.
>
> This is the story of Kashmir-the story of a dying civilization.
> According to a Hindu legend, Kashmir was once a vast lake called
> Satisar, inhabited by the Nagas, the snake people. Once upon a time, a
> demon, Jaladeo, began terrorizing the Nagas, so they beseeched their
> father, Sage Kashyap, to help. Kashyap, deciding to evoke the gods,
> performed such severe penance that the heavens shook. Finally, Shiva
> descended from Mount Kailash, his abode in the Himalayas, and rented
> the mountainside with his mighty trident. All the water of Lake
> Satisar drained out. Then Vishnu's consort, the goddess Laxmi (called
> Sharda in Kashmir), took the shape of a hari or a mynah bird and
> dropped on the demon's head a pebble, which penetrated his body and
> grew to the size of a hill, encasing him in the rock. Thus, the hill
> came to be known as Hari Parbat (Hari's Mount). In gratitude to
> Kashyap, the site was called Kashyap Mir or Kashyap Mountain, which
> has gradually corrupted to Kashmir. Over the years, the slopes of the
> hill became enshrined with Hindu, Muslim and Sikh places of worship.
> In the 16th century, Akbar constructed the Hari Parbat fort along the
> top of the hill, enclosing the city of Srinagar in a citadel.
>
> Even before Akbar built his fort, Srinagar and the whole Kashmir
> valley was already a citadel. Nestled securely between the lofty
> Himalayan range in the north and the Pir Panjal in the south, the
> 134-kilometer by 40-kilometer oval plane with its meandering rivers
> and rippling lakes, rolling greens and flower-fragrant paths was a
> citadel of Eden, a citadel for a way of life which the world would
> never comprehend. Kashmiris call it Kashmiriyat.
>
> Kashmiriyat, when experienced as a culture, is so syncretic that it
> inspires an epitomizing co-existence: man's oneness with man; man's
> oneness with nature. Kashmiriyat, when perceived as a faith, is an
> amalgamation of four great traditions: the aborigines' Shaivism, a
> Hindu Monistic philosophy, and the disseminated wisdoms of Quran's
> Erfan, Buddhism's Nirvana and Sikhism's Ek Onkar.
>
> Aside from being a fertile ground for missioners, Kashmir, being on
> the Silk Route, was also an easy target for invaders who were
> sometimes benevolent but often tyrannical. This constant shift in
> allegiance taught Kashmiris the attitude of Kashmiriyat. No matter who
> or what the monarch, the people of Kashmir knew survival could only be
> through seamless co-existence. One of the reasons for such integration
> was Kashmir's insular geography, which buffered most disruptive
> influences. However, when the modern world's demarcation made Kashmir
> a strategic vantage point, the permeation of outside antagonisms in
> Kashmir's society was inevitable.
>
> In 1947, the year of India's partition, Kashmir emerged from the
> shifting tides of international politics as the invidious prize for
> both India and Pakistan. At that time, Kashmir was ruled by a Hindu
> king, but the majority of its population was Muslim. According to the
> precepts of the British two-nation theory, Kashmir belonged to
> Pakistan. However, Kashmir's Sufi Islam was hardly the Sunna- and
> Sharia-based Islam of Pakistan, so the Raja entered a stand-still
> agreement with both countries. Pakistan grew impatient and sent its
> troops and warlords into Kashmir, forcing the hand of the Raja, who
> appointed Sheikh Abdullah-a popular and trusted leader of the
> Kashmiris-to negotiate the treaty of Kashmir's accession to India.
> Thus it was that Kashmir became a part of India-but with reservation.
> Article 370 of the Instrument of Accession gave Kashmir
> semi-autonomous status within India's constitutional framework and
> promised the people of Kashmir a plebiscite. The article guaranteed
> the survival of Kashmiriyat in Kashmir, but it also became Kashmir's
> albatross.
>
> Imbued with this special status, Kashmir jealously protected its
> autonomy. Consequently, the central government in Delhi pumped into
> the region special food and resource subsidies but otherwise felt no
> real need to be actively involved in the region's affairs. The
> government of India did very little to monitor the state's
> administrative and legislative machinery. With money pouring in
> through the subsidies, the highly profitable tourism industry and the
> farming of such cash crops as fruits, walnuts and saffron, corruption
> was a natural result. Bribery took root early in Sheikh Abdullah's
> 20-year administration and burgeoned into a full-fledged orgy when the
> regime of his son, Farukh Abdullah, began in the mid-1980s.
>
> Civil lawlessness now reigns supreme in Kashmir. Investments,
> development contracts, higher education and employment are all
> privileges of the venal, while the ordinary Kashmiri is brick-walled.
> Who is held responsible for the failed system? The situation.
> Terrorism.
>
> A disillusioned young rickshaw driver revealed the Sophoclean irony of
> this inverted truth to me on my way to Chirar-I-Sharif, the shrine of
> the Sufi saint Nur-ud-din Wali. He was a first-class graduate of
> Srinagar's college of agriculture. "When I couldn't get a job,
> militancy became the only option. Everyone knows how much they
> (Pakistan's intelligence service) pay for young recruits. I tried
> going to the other side, but my guide abandoned me in the mountains
> and I returned home. I have a widowed mother and two sisters. Although
> I can barely feed them with this job, I consider myself lucky. If I
> had joined militancy…"
>
> Kashmir's reversal of fate was sealed in 1987 when various Muslim
> groups with an affinitive bias toward the Islamization of Pakistan's
> military dictator Zia-ul-Haque formed a coalition called the Muslim
> United Front. Haque's orthodoxy, drawing its inspiration from the
> Ayatollah's experiments in Iran, promised a lawful land practicing
> Quranic principles of governance and personal ethics. The frustrated
> youth of Kashmir were ready and willing to surrender Kashmiriyat to
> law and polity, even if it meant living in a polarized society. Muslim
> United Front drew such unprecedented support from the people of
> Kashmir that Farukh Abdullah feared defeat in that year's elections,
> so he formed a coalition with India's ruling Congress party. Doubtful
> of the coalition's victory, Farukh and Delhi orchestrated guarantees.
> The election was blatantly rigged. Members of the Muslim United Front
> watched as election booths were vandalized, votes were miscounted and
> polling agents were beaten and jailed.
>
> Kashmir erupted in riots and a wayward spirit entered the hearts of
> people. It was the spirit of revolution. The former pleas for
> plebiscite- Hum kya chahte hai? Rai shumari!-turned to chants for
> azadi or freedom. Mothers urged their sons to beckon to the call;
> schoolteachers stopped teaching math and history, and began talking to
> their students about freedom and liberty. And Pakistan-with its
> tantalizing promises of money and training camps-became the much
> needed "helping hand" or, as India liked to call it, the "foreign
> hand." Young Muslim men from all over the valley openly crossed the
> Line of Control in throngs: Local bus drivers announcing two
> towns-"Sopur, Kapur"-defiantly added "Upper" to indicate their
> destination was on the other side of the mountains.
>
> Of those 18 Muslim United Front polling agents, five joined the Jammu
> and Kashmir Liberation Front, 12 joined the Hizb ul Mujahideen and one
> enlisted with the Islamic Student's Federation. The gun had entered
> the valley. Its first victim: Kashmiriyat.
>
> Bashir Ahmad, a third generation weaver of pashmina shawls, is a
> witness. Most of Bashir's business used to come directly from tourists
> and merchants in Jammu. The tourists stopped visiting and the shawls
> stopped selling. "Today, even if we can sell them in Jammu, it is at
> the cost of our pride. They don't trust us any more." He told me how a
> few years ago, he sent a shipment of pure pashmina shawls to a Jammu
> dealer he knew well, but when he went to collect the payment, he only
> received half of what was owed him. The dealer accused him of mixing
> wool yarn with pashmina thread.
>
> "Weaving is an ibadat," Bashir told me, "an act of worship. Weavers
> have a patron Sufi saint who demands honesty in ibadat. Believe me, in
> this business, if you are not honest, you will not be able to survive
> for more than a few years. We have been weavers for over 100 years.
> This situation has made my ancestors cheats."
>
> This mistrust has soured not just business relationships, but also
> relationships of the heart.
>
> Shahid sahib, my host, shared his pain with me one afternoon. Before
> the Kashmiri Hindus, or Pundits, as they are called, fled the valley,
> fearing the fanatic implications of the Islamic insurgency, Shahid
> sahib used to have a very close Hindu friend in his neighborhood.
>
> "Kaul and I used to play chess in the evening. His board used to sit
> in my living room. We would play in my house and, most evenings, go to
> his house for dinner. His mother was an excellent cook. I loved her
> like a mother. Then rumors of a Muslim militancy began to spread. But
> there was no real incident. However, I was worried about my friend and
> his family, so I told them that if anything happened, they could count
> on me. A couple of days later, Kaul came to ask for his chessboard and
> the following morning they were gone. The next thing we know, the
> media is splashed with atrocities the Muslims had supposedly committed
> against their Hindu neighbors-women raped, men tortured and killed,
> children brutally murdered, houses looted. These were stories that
> included my neighborhood. Right here where I live. How is it that I
> didn't see anything?"
>
> When I asked him if he still believed in Kashmiriyat, his eyes filled
> with tears. "No one talks about Kashmiriyat any more. Maybe it was
> always a myth, an illusion we had mistaken as truth."
>
> "But do you believe in it?" I insisted.
>
> "If anything had happened, I would have protected Kaul and his family
> with my life."
>
> Whether the grievances of the Muslims are real or imagined, whether
> the Pundits fled due to a situation that was real or imagined, hardly
> seems the point now. The fact is that the ordinary Kashmiri Muslim saw
> the Pundits' leaving as a betrayal of Kashmiriyat.
>
> While I talked to Shahid sahib, his seven-year-old grandson came into
> the room. I dug out two candy bars from my bag to give to him. When
> Burhan saw his grandfather's tears, he emphatically stated that
> Kashmir should become a part of Pakistan.
>
> "Why?" I asked him.
>
> "Because we are Musalmaan."
>
> "But do you know that India has many many Musalmaan?"
>
> "Yes, but there are also Hindus. I don't like Hindus."
>
> "Why?"
>
> "They're not nice. They tell lies."
>
> I asked him what he thought of me-whether I was nice or not.
>
> "Very nice," he said, biting into his chocolate.
>
> "So, do you think I am a Hindu or a Musalmaan?"
>
> Without hesitation, he said, "Musalmaan."
>
> I couldn't resist telling the little boy that I was a Hindu, but I
> regretted the impulse almost immediately, because Burhan looked at his
> grandfather with bewilderment and his own sense of betrayal.
>
> In fact, betrayal is the theme song of Kashmir's tragedy. Ever since
> 1947, the Kashmiris have been suffering one betrayal after another.
> The promise of the plebiscite was never fulfilled. Waiting for its
> realization, the people of Kashmir never identified with India and,
> thus, remained bereft of a national identity. Compounding this
> estrangement was Delhi's repeated condoning of corruption in the guise
> of secularism and democracy.
>
> When embittered Kashmiris turned to Pakistan after the 1987 elections
> fraud, Pakistan's intelligence service gathered the Kashmiris in an
> embrace of pretended sympathy. For a while, Kashmiris saw the
> Pakistani agents as fellow Muslims ready to fight for their brethren,
> and freedom in the Kashmiri psyche became synonymous with the fanatic
> elements of that agency.
>
> However, within a few years the people of Kashmir realized that
> Pakistan had invoked insurgency in Kashmir not for the Kashmiris'
> right for self-determination but for the establishment of an Islamic
> world-order. Their cause for freedom had been sabotaged and turned
> murderously against their own people. What was worse was that
> Kashmir's grassroots revolutionaries became indistinguishable from the
> terrorists of foreign nations. This fight had become a
> free-for-all-Afghanis, Pakistanis, Sudanese, jihadis, freedom
> fighters, bounty hunters. However, by then it was too late. India had
> already raised its flag of nationalism against Kashmir's separatist
> movement. India began to send in its security forces who, under the
> Armed Forces Special Power Act, started their own reign of terror,
> interrogating civilians at gunpoint and torturing and killing others
> on mere suspicion. The cause that had begun as a freedom movement
> turned into a fractured war against military occupation.
>
> Even if Kashmir is not fighting a conventional war, it is a war zone.
> There are approximately 700,000 Indian military personnel from five
> different brigades posted in Kashmir at all times. Not only is the
> border lined thickly with Indian and Pakistani armies, but the towns
> look like combat zones. Gun-toting soldiers are everywhere-patrolling
> gardens, parks, lakesides, and even places of worship. Traffic in the
> streets is often stalled to allow the lumbering, armored vehicles of
> war to make their rounds. In Srinagar, there is a military bunker
> every 200 meters, complete with sandbags, chains and soldiers flashing
> AK-47s. Roadside checks have become routine. Anywhere, anytime, public
> busses and private cars can be stopped and thoroughly inspected, and
> the passengers rigorously questioned. There is no official curfew in
> Srinagar, but after eight in the evening, the city becomes a shadowy
> ghost town of stray dogs and security guards. Every corner is a
> nucleus of suspicion and every military bunker an interrogation cell.
> If you are not able to provide identification, or if you resist in any
> manner, may God help you.
>
> "What can they do to you?" I asked Arshad one evening when we were
> caught in this nightmare.
>
> "Young men disappear in Kashmir every day. Sometimes people find their
> bodies-in lakes or on river banks; other times they just vanish."
>
> I remembered a wailing mother in Hazrat Bal, the mosque where a strand
> of Prophet Mohammed's hair is enshrined. She had been circumambulating
> the sanctum sanctorum, kissing every latticed window, leaving a trail
> of tears all along the marble walls. Upon my asking, she had told me
> her son had disappeared.
>
> Dr. G.Q. Allaquabad, a leading Kashmiri psychiatrist, says today
> Kashmir's entire population suffers from depression. And it isn't just
> the Kashmiris who are susceptible; the soldiers posted in Kashmir are
> also weary and homesick. In Zaina Kadal, a riot-prone neighborhood, I
> talked to a soldier standing beside a bunker with Mera Bharat Mahan
> (My India is Great) written on its side in large red letters. The
> soldier was a little wary but willing to talk. He told me he was from
> a village near Bombay and that he had been stationed in Kashmir for
> five years. "My son was born in my absence," he said with a sadness in
> his eyes. "I see him when I go home on leave, but I miss him." I asked
> him if he was afraid for his life, since military units were the
> terrorists' main targets. "There's always a fear, but I'm a soldier. I
> go wherever my country needs me." I asked him then if he was aware
> that the people of Kashmir were sick of India and it military's
> presence. His manner changed suddenly. "We are here for their
> protection," he said in a tone of a programmed machine.
>
> According to the people of Kashmir, they never needed military
> protection against their own militants. No Kashmiri blamed them for
> taking up the gun. Besides, they believe that all Kashmiris who were
> alleged terrorists are either dead or reformed. There are certainly
> foreign nationals still operating in the valley, and no amount of
> security seems to prevent their infiltration across the border. The
> Kashmiris say that is because the real terrorists have always been and
> still are India and Pakistan, and they don't want the conflict to end.
>
> When Kashmir's trouble began, the governments of both India and
> Pakistan exploited communal sentiments by feeding the public rumors of
> ethnic cleansing. Aside from engaging domestic public opinion, both
> governments realized that they could use Kashmir to clean their image
> in the world's view. Pakistan surmised it could ﾑcry wolf' and acquire
> large amounts foreign aid to keep its military well-equipped against
> its warring neighbor, India; and the Indian politicians discovered
> they could absolve themselves of all sins, including going nuclear, by
> citing victimization by Pakistan-sponsored terrorism. The Kashmir
> conflict has become such a raison d'￪tre for their hostility that one
> wonders what both countries will use as a stratagem if the Kashmir
> question were diplomatically settled.
>
> "It'll never be resolved as long as we are caught between their
> quarrels. The only solution is for India to cut us loose and for
> Pakistan to stop interfering in our bid for freedom," Shahid sahib
> told me, echoing the sentiment of many Kashmiris.
>
> A free Kashmir? The most poignant tragedy of this elusive desire is
> that Kashmir is almost incapable of survival as an independent nation.
> The people of Kashmir are aware of this, yet they crave it. For most
> of its post-1947 life, Kashmir has lived on subsidies from India. Over
> the years, the agriculture department replaced the farming of staple
> crops like rice and wheat with revenue-generating cash crops like
> saffron and fruits and walnuts. Consequently, Kashmir today imports
> most of its rice, wheat and vegetables from other Indian states. It
> would take Kashmir years to restructure its agriculture in order to
> feed its people. The tourism industry, which used to be the backbone
> of Kashmir's economy, is non-existent today. Freedom for Kashmir would
> also mean a constant threat from its powerful neighbors, India,
> Pakistan, China and Russia. For the simple Kashmiri, however, freedom
> merely means the return of Kashmiriyat and a simple faith in God's
> benevolence.
> Sitting in the verdant green lawns of the Jama Masjid, enjoying the
> afternoon sun, four young friends who make a living by spinning
> pashmina thread, talked to me about azadi and what it meant to them.
> Irshada, one of the women said, "It is the right to live our lives
> like ordinary people."
>
> When I asked her what her definition of an ordinary life was, she
> blushed and looked at her friends. Her friend, Sumaira, who,
> incidentally, is the sister of the man Irshada hopes to marry, said,
> "she wants to marry the man of her choice."
>
> "And have a family and enough money to live a comfortable life,"
> Irshada shyly added.
>
> "Azadi means no violence, no Indian presence, no Pakistani presence.
> Just us. Kashmiris," Sumaira said.
>
> "And no Pundits?" I asked.
>
> "They will come back once we have azadi. This is their Kashmir, too.
> We want them to come back."
>
> "And there would be no trouble between the communities after all that
> has happened?"
>
> "Have you heard about Kashmir's Kashmiriyat?" Irfana, the unsmiling
> one asked me.
>
> I told her I had, but I wanted to hear her version of it.
>
> "We used to have a Musalmaan ruler a long time ago-hundreds of years
> ago-whose governor was so cruel he used to tie up Hindus in gunny
> sacks and drown them in the Dal Lake. Most Hindus fled from Kashmir at
> that time. Then another Musalmaan ruler came to rule Kashmir. His name
> was Zain-al-Abdin. He invited the Hindus back and appointed them to
> high positions in his kingdom. He helped them rebuild their temples
> and celebrated their festivals with them. The Kashmiris learnt so much
> from him, they called him Budshah (great king). He taught us all to
> love our land-our Kashmir-and to live together as Kashmiris. That is
> Kashmiriyat."
>
> "It's still there," Irfana added. "Kashmiriyat is still there. "It's
> hard to see it these days, because of the violence, but it's there-in
> the hearts of all the Kashmiris."
>
> Irshada smiled at me and said with a faith so firm I envied her,
> "We'll be fine when we get azadi. Allah tallah will look after all of
> us."
>
> I came to Kashmir as a Hindu to reaffirm my faith before an image of
> Shiva which is found in a cave near Srinagar. Instead, I tied threads
> of hope on the lattice work of Makhdoom Sahib and Dastgir Sahib
> mosques, rubbed my nose in the dirt of Chhati Padshahi Gurudwara and
> rang bells of peace at the Chos Khor Buddhist monastery. I had become
> a pilgrim who questioned the silence of these silent guardians of
> Kashmiriyat. Irshada's simple faith restored my hope for Kashmiriyat's
> survival, so I decided to spend my last day in Kashmir as I would have
> back in the days when Kashmiriyat was not just in the hearts of the
> people but roamed free in the streets. I rented a houseboat for the
> evening to watch the sun rise on the Dal Lake.
>
> Sitting on the deck that evening, watching the long twilight linger on
> the Dal, I heard shots in the distance.
>
> "An encounter?" I asked Aslam, the houseboat owner.
>
> "No, no. Only some tourists playing with firecrackers. Don't let it
> worry you. You enjoy your evening." But I knew he lied. I asked him
> what he thought of the situation.
>
> "Death," he said, lighting his 10th cigarette of the evening. "We will
> die, either from a terrorist's gun or from being caught in the
> crossfire. If not that, then from a heart attack brought on by the
> tension of a failing business."
>
> "Whom do you blame?' I asked.
>
> He shook his head. "Kashmir has been touched by an evil eye."
>
> I remembered the chinar I had seen on my first day in Srinagar. A tree
> removal team from the garden and parks department had felled it. It
> was dying. Nobody really knew the cause. "It was the heavy traffic.
> The pollution," a bystander had told me. "Some bug was eating away at
> its insides," another one said. "It's greed," a dapper young man
> dressed impeccably in khaki trousers and a bright white shirt had
> stated. "They need the space for more business construction." The
> chinar was obviously dying. I remembered seeing the peeling scabs on
> its once-smooth bark and fissures in the circular age lines in the
> massive hollow trunk. Some of its branches, dry and brittle, had
> snapped when it had crashed to the ground and were strewn around it
> like hacked-off limbs. I had been told that only a week ago one of its
> dead branches had broken loose in a storm and struck a little girl of
> five, killing her. I remembered the old doll seller, who had stood
> beside me, holding a pole against his shoulder on which hollow plastic
> dolls with painted faces had hung from strings. His gray beard had
> been filled with dirt; wrinkles reached into his eyes.
>
> "It was touched by the evil eye," he told me in a hushed voice.
>
> At dawn, the following morning, as I stood on the deck of the
> houseboat, watching the sun rise, the Dal became ethereal, silver with
> drops of golden sunlight twinkling along its still water. The first
> rays of the sun streaked the sky behind Hari Parbat. Then the sound of
> the first azan arose from a mosque on the hill. It was soon joined by
> the sound of the first ardas from a Gurudwara also on the hill. Filled
> with a sense of divine unity, I wondered if the prayer generated from
> this elemental euphony would be powerful enough to one day negate the
> touch of the evil eye.
>
> Meena Nayak is writing a childrenﾒs book about Indian historical
> legends which will be published by Penguin India. Steve McCurry's
> photographs of have appeared in magazines and books including his own
> South Southeast, published by Phaidon. StatCounter - Free Web Tracker
> and Counter
>
> --
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-- 
Rashneek Kher
Wandhama Massacre-The Forgotten Human Tragedy
http://www.kashmiris-in-exile.blogspot.com
http://www.nietzschereborn.blogspot.com