“We don’t want to be defined by conflict..We want to be defined by our capabilities..We don’t want to be disconnected from the world yet again..We are not just victims of political situations, we are dreamers who want to be doctors, engineers, scientists and so much more..” said a 17-year-old girl student from Sopore, Kashmir.
In a bloodied valley, hope and despair co-exist uneasily as does hospitality and hostility. There are many young Kashmiris desperate to break out from any stereotype of the Kashmiri Muslim, keen to become part of an aspirational society. Surely, there are also those who may still romanticise militancy but a complex Kashmir is a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds where a teenage student’s plea for peace may parallel a more strident voice calling for retribution. In a conflict zone, fear can dictate on camera responses, which is why it is essential to cut through the noise to discover the reality of a ‘Naya’ Kashmir.
Post the horrendous terror attack in Pahalgam’s Baisaran meadows and the Indian armed forces’ retaliation, it is apparent that Kashmir is churning yet again, the churn reflecting many dimensions, old and new. After a whistle-stop tour through the valley, here are ten takeaways.
Firstly, the anger and grief over Baisaran is genuine and unconditional in large sections of Kashmiri society. It partly stems from a spontaneous human and emotional response to the bestiality shown by the terrorists in killing innocent tourists. What is unsaid is an air of repentance at past failings to speak up strongly, a timorous silence that has perhaps allowed terrorists to cross a red line with impunity, one where non-combatants are also drawn into the terror cycle. “Enough is enough” is a belated cry echoing through the Valley.
Secondly, the unprovoked killing of innocents in the name of religion by singling out Hindus has provoked a backlash among those wielding ‘Not in My Name’ placards. Radical Islam has muscled it way into the Kashmir Valley in recent decades, the forced exodus of Kashmiri Pandits a permanent blot on any notion of a harmonious ‘secular’ Kashmiriyat. And yet, even orthodox Muslims now are admitting that the ‘jihad factory’ is toxic and self-destructive, an assault on their religious sensibilities.
Thirdly, the ‘pro-Pakistan’ constituency in the Valley has taken a huge hit. Those supportive of the idea of a pan-Islamic brotherhood speak of their broad allegiances when the camera is switched off but Islamabad is no longer seen as the sole guardian of Kashmiri interests. While many point to the obvious security lapses in Baisaran, few are buying the ‘false flag’ theory of the Pakistani leadership. Instead there is a creeping realisation that the Pakistani army-state and its terror proxies have preyed on Kashmiri emotions to leave the region in a state of semi-permanent turbulence.
Fourthly, the local militants have less of a heroic aura around them as compared to a decade ago. In 2016, the Hizbul commander Burhan Wani was seen as a poster boy of new age militancy in the social media age when he was killed in a gun-battle with security forces. The brand of localised militancy is struggling to retain relevance except amongst core supporters of the idea of an ‘Azaad’ or ‘independent’ Kashmir.
Fifthly, the sharp decline in public support for Pakistan is not necessarily matched by any greater affinity to the Indian State. Truth is, the Modi government is perceived on the Kashmiri street as anti-Muslim, a sentiment which was reinforced in 2019 when India’s only Muslim-majority state was downsized overnight into a Union territory. In their hearts and minds, the Kashmiri people are convinced that the Centre has reduced them to second-class citizens, denied them their constitutional rights and a sense of equality and dignity, adding to a familiar pattern of alienation from mainstream India.
Sixthly, the elections of 2024 have done little to assuage a wounded Kashmiri self-respect. Omar Abdullah is widely seen as an elected chief minister without serious power, someone who is a well-meaning, well-spoken individual, an acceptable face for the Delhi establishment but not the kind of combative mass leader that many Kashmiris are craving for.
Seventhly, the massive security presence in the Valley is seen as a visible symbol of suffocating state power from which many Kashmiris wish to break free. The routine internet shutdowns, the stifling search and combing operations every time there is a terror strike, bombing the homes of terror suspects without due process and the harassment of innocent civilians are seen as further evidence of a coercive state that fundamentally mistrusts Kashmiris.
Eightly, Kashmiris still carry a sense of permanent victimhood, built on the scars and resentments of the past. Which is why every time a Kashmiri student is harassed on a campus in any part of India, the news travels like wildfire across the Valley.
Ninthly, there is undoubtedly a growing space and legitimacy for what is best described as a ‘P and P’ (peace and prosperity) dividend. That Kashmir has seen a massive upsurge in tourists in recent years is one important aspect of this emergent ‘P and P’ constituency. Baisaran has driven a dagger through the heart of the Kashmiri tourist economy just when it was poised for a major boom. In a state marked by low per capita income and few job opportunities, many Kashmiris want to be part of the India growth story while retaining their distinctive identity.
This brings one to a tenth and final observation. Baisaran, horrific as it is, has paradoxically opened a window of opportunity for peace stakeholders. At a time when the Valley has been numbed by terror, it is vital to reach out to those who are speaking out against violence.
(Rajdeep Sardesai is a senior journalist and author.)
