Talking Shop: Where is this J&K?

“Agar firdaus bar roo-e

zameen ast, Hameen ast-o,

hameen ast-o, hameen ast!

(If there is a paradise on

Earth; it is this, it is this…)”

— Mughal Emperor Jehangir

Emperor Jehangir must be turning in his grave, for the heaven he describes so lovingly and possessively has been defiled beyond recognition. All it took to bring this blasphemy upon the Northern-most jewel of Hindustan was a smattering of less-than-mere mortals and their inflated ego, stirring up a loins-led lust for power. As testosterone ruled and oestrogen and progesterone paid subservience on their bedspreads, these make-believe supermen upped the ante and raped the land as well, of its material riches, and of its valuable and sacred cultural heritage. One by one, time consigned and confined these conqueror-rulers to their place in history, deep in the ground. But in their coming and eventual send-off, they left behind an empire that was a ghostly reflection of its once magnificent self.

If we revisit history, we realize that what was left of this princely demesne was systematically picked on even after the Mughals. First, the British East India Company went on the plunder from 1846 to 1858, and then the state bore the tutelage of the Crown from 1858 till partition and independence in 1947. At the time of partition, then ruler Hari Singh delayed a decision on J&K’s future, ushering in uncertainty that persisted till raiders from the Northwest Frontier Province attacked, with support from Pakistan. On 26 October 1947, Hari Singh acceded to India; in return, India’s military engaged Pakistan-supported forces. Eventually, the West and North districts, ‘Azad Kashmir’ and Gilgit-Baltistan, were controlled by Pakistan, with the remaining territory staying under India’s control as Jammu and Kashmir.

History repeating itself

That is history; a history that shows that this land – for being gorgeous, plentiful and full of heart – has paid with sweat, blood and tears. It still does, these life- and vigour-driving fluids seeping through the wounds that reopen every now and then, a reminder of its bloody past. The political system is anything but ideal. No surprises there, given the shoddy manner subsequent administrations have ignored or exploited the land and its people. In itself, this answers some vexed questions. Why is this beauteous land in a sorry state? Why are its people not content and smiling? Hell, where is this J&K?

For those reaching for their phones and other gadgetry to flood me with condescension, do not bother; I am not geographically challenged. My simple question is: “When will we truly accept J&K as part of India, not some strange land?” Before these people go cluck-cluck, they should abandon their make-believe world of fantasy and get steeped in reality. That reality is quite appalling – India loves bragging about this heaven on Earth, though nearly every Indian remains disjoint and distended deep within, to the extent of being disparaging and thorny. In conversations, some even labelled J&K a “terrorist state”, scooting off when I got annoyed and reached for something I could maim or re-sculpt them with.

For this high-level and non-thinker, holiday-happy-type ‘items’, I have this advice – grow a brain and have a heart. Jammu & Kashmir doesn’t begin and end with Dal Lake, Lal Chowk, Sonamarg, Gulmarg and Zojila Pass – there’s more to this mountain state than mere scatter-brains can fathom or absorb.

Quick taste of reality

Here’s a quick-jog lesson for interested parties. After 40 years of being chucked around like a boomerang by prevalent political and religious dispensations, January 1990 was a turning point for J&K, when nearly a hundred people were killed in military firing, sending violence raging throughout the valley and goading militant activities into overdrive. Doordarshan’s office in Srinagar was attacked and its director killed, and that was just the trailer. Attacks against Kashmiri Hindus began, forcing many to leave their homes and flee. Some settled in Delhi, some elsewhere, but all have been demanding rehabilitation ever since.

Today, locals feel that ‘their own’ would not have got displaced if the administration had taken strict action in 1990 itself. Since then, successive Governments have made overtures to maintain peace, but political instability, separatism and Pakistan-sponsored terrorism have continued to hound the region. In fact, a disturbing trend is also emerging in the state-turned Union Territory, with insurgency and unrest quietly moving away from Kashmir proper and into Jammu, which has been mostly peaceful for the last three decades. In 2022 and 2023, three incidents of terror attacks on security forces were reported from the Jammu area. This year alone, seven incidents have already been recorded.

Things are not just tough for the security forces who battle terrorists and mischief-mongers; the general public has been put to the sword too. Jammu residents are increasingly admitting that come sundown, they lock themselves inside their homes; such is a fear psychosis that now pervades the region. These are normal people like you and I, but the life they are being forced to live is far, far away from anything we can ever imagine in our own. And then we, the haves, call them outsiders and other such names.

Trigger for this tirade

It takes just the gentle push on a switch to turn on comfort-giving gadgets that are now part of our lives, but what triggered me to write on J&K and what’s transpiring there was neither gentle, nor was it the provider of any comfort. It was simple enough, though, in that it was just a case of a friend trying to sell off his personal car, one that sported a Jammu & Kashmir registration number on its front and rear facades. A routine task that takes most just a few hours, or a day or two at most, turned into a crusade that lasted for months.

Here is an indicative Q&A that the J&K registration plate threw our way. Why do you have a car with a J&K number? “Because I bought it from a friend who lives there. After all, it is in India and both he and I are Indians.” Why do you want to sell the car? “Because I want to upgrade to a bigger vehicle.” Do you realize that a J&K number will dilute the vehicle’s value by many lakhs of rupees? “Why? The car is fine, almost like new. We have paid an all-India tax and can drive anywhere.” Why don’t you go to J&K and sell this car there, instead of this city? “Because it is all-India registered and ‘this city’ and ‘that city’ are both in India. Hey, it is just a car, not a piece of land!” Has the car ever been involved in any shooting or bombing? “What?!” Do you know this car comes from the land of terrorists? “What the hell?!”

An innocent task was turned into a nightmare and the experience proved that the already-diminishing Indian rupee also has a vanishing act up its Houdini sleeve. The car was eventually sold for less than half its fair value, if only to get rid of any unrequited slur on one’s character. What a sham(e).

Soliloquy: Really, what is normalcy? The last I heard, normalcy was the ability to live an open and true life in an open and true land, without fear or repercussions, at least until you do something to earn the nasties. But here, we have normal people living an open and true life, yet forced to shut themselves out from society once dusk hits the tarmac. Many of ‘their own’ have left for other lands where life goes on in the dark as well. Beyond the cursory appreciation of pahaad, baraf and kahwa, they are looked upon with suspicion, so much that if you even drive or buy their cars, you could turn into a dusk-man yourself.

Surely, this is not what our forefathers and nation-builders were trying to create after decades and centuries of fighting off the oppressors. I am told both the Mughals and the British enjoyed their evening aperitifs over dance and other calisthenics after dusk, and well into the dark. Why are we depriving our very own of their own little pleasures of life, especially as Digital India moves into the ‘world-best’ slot on many counts, not all of them noteworthy?

The writer is a veteran journalist and communications specialist. He can be reached on [email protected]. Views expressed are personal