Cooings on a Curfew morning

Day Three

Third consecutive day of curfew in Kashmir. Movement was mostly trammeled as people remained confined to their homes. There is news though that curfew was defied in a couple of spots. The cops fired upon protestors in several places. Many were beaten up mercilessly in full media glare. The death toll in three days has now gone past 25. The toll of the injured is countless. Hospitals are inundated with the wounded. In Sopore the gun fire just does not abate. It is a perpetual reminder that all is not well and despite the apparent calm, a storm is brewing in the distance.


The local news papers are full of obituaries and tributes to Sheikh Abdul Aziz, a top rung Hurriyet leader who was gunned down Monday as he led a two hundred thousand strong procession during the march to Muzzafarabad. The general strike against the incident is expected to continue till the weekend. Prez Musharraf praised Mr Aziz today. Pakistan has suddenly gotten active after a sinister silence and has passed a resolution condemning the excessive police action in Kashmir. It is preparing to report the matter to UN. India is clearly peeved.


One of my friends managed to click some amazing pictures of the Monday march to Muzzafarabad. In this rare picture, the Hurriyet leader Mr Aziz is seen sitting atop a tractor -- on the right hand side in white Pathani dress -- leading a peaceful demonstration.


This may well be one of the last images of the slain leader because moments later the police shot him dead from point blank. People accompanying him say that the leader was deliberately targeted. The government, of course, refutes the charges.


On a much social level, the changed political climate has altered established norms. With all educational establishments closed for the past one week, children are making merry. No school means the kids are home to pester their parents 24 x 7. There is also an acute shortage of food stuff here. Vegetables are in short supply. Villages have however risen to the occasion. Cartfuls laden with fresh veggies are being brought into townships and city peripheries from the countryside to help the urban populace tide over the hard times.


Staying in Kashmir in these times is riveting and draggy at the same time. These are extraordinary circumstances and each passing day is dramatic. I don’t know how people manage to survive in such settings -- amidst strikes, strife and the suffering. Still they live on! Call it the indomitable human spirit.


Sameer.

Midsummer Mayhem

Day Two


Kashmir continues to simmer. I woke up to gun-shots today. Curfew has been imposed in the valley and everyone is confined to their homes. I am also cooped inside. Cell phones just don’t stop ringing and each ring is a constant reminder that yet more violence has taken place. It is evening time, as I post, and I can still hear crackle of gunfire nearby. I am being told that the police and para-military troopers -- deployed all over the place -- are firing intermittently in the air to stop people from coming out. This is a major clamp-down, as the establishment looks for desperate measures to control the situation, which is clearly slipping out of their hands.

Trying to make most of my fallow time I managed to have a word with some neighbors, my friends and a couple of acquaintances over the phone. The general mood is somber and tempers are clearly on the roil. Almost everyone talks of double standards adopted by the government. While the authorities were lax in Jammu when the Hindu right wing hit the roof there, brute force was used in Kashmir from Day one.

Sample this: While the Jammu agitation was controlled by hooligans, who torched public property and resorted to mass violence, brandishing weapons and tridents, only three people were shot in more than 37 days in the temple city. Two days of protests have already left 20 dead in Kashmir. More than 500 injured. Why the iniquity? People ask. What happened to the famed democratic scruples of India? For once, I have no ready answers.

The separatist leader gunned down yesterday has been buried in Srinagar in the afternoon. A hundred thousand people marched in Srinagar today. They managed to free two prominent Hurriyet leaders -- Mirwaiz Omar and Syed Ali Geelani -- from their respective house-arrests. There have been reports of confrontation between the people and cops from across the valley. Sopore, where I live, witnessed similar scenes. All hamlets around the township are on a slow flame. Emotions are alpine high and curfew is being breached with impunity. For the moment it looks like there is no solution in the sight.

There is a mix of fear and bravado among the people. The defiance is new-found and alarming. Incidents of mob fury are continuously pouring in. Military bunkers are being razed, politicians’ homes are being stoned, police posts are being attacked with a never before ferocity. People justify their acts by citing police’s naked aggression. The government, which bundled in handling the situation initially, is finding it difficult to control the mobs. The flower blossom in the garden of paradise appears abruptly shriveled up.

Rhetoric is flying thick and fast, so are the rumors. Everyone has his own slant and a tale to tell. The curfew, clamp-down and clamor is reminiscent of the early 90’s. Is it back to square one?

Only the other day I saw a tulip trampled on the roadside.


Sameer

March to Muzzafarabad

Day One

Kashmir has been precarious since the day I landed here. My itinerary was rather hectic this time around. I attended a string of fantastic weddings, drove around the famous Dal lake, boated around with pals high up in the hills, took in as much local gossip as possible and breathed in great fistfuls of cold pine air. But more on that later. I start my Kashmir dairy with a distressing note.

First things foremost. The Amarnath land row has completely consumed people here. It has become an emotive and nationalistic issue. The economic blockade of the valley by Jammu based groups has led to much bitterness in Kashmir. In reality the revocation of the land transfer order by the state government is largely perceived as a psychological defeat by the right-wing Hindu lunatic fringe in Jammu. And the mad horde has upped the ante. They have stoned and looted most of the supplies to Kashmir, leading to an acute shortage of essentials in the land-locked valley. Kashmir naturally felt blackmailed and arm-twisted.

Since fuel has run dangerously low in gas stations, cash has dried up in most ATM machines, weddings cancelled en masse, hospitals have gone low on life saving drugs and Kashmir’s famous apple has rotted in the wooden boxes for the lack of transportation, it was unanimously decided that on a pleasant Monday morning, the people of Kashmir shall march to Muzzafarabad, the capital of Pakistan Kashmir. Hurriyet, it was opined, would lead from the front. It would be Kashmir’s answer to Jammu’s blackjack. The argument was that it would be an alternative means to do business in a substitute market. It was also an extremely desperate and symbolic bid.

Though the move was fraught with much danger, the people of Kashmir marched in their thousands. The separatists had already set the tenor: Muzzafarabad Jayenge, Khooni Lakeer toodenge [We shall march onto Muzzafarabad; we shall breach the bloody border]. Incidentally I was away from the clamor, holidaying in Gulmarg but I kept getting regular updates since morning. Some of my acquaintances were in the procession. They kept calling me up from time to time. One of my kinsman was in the border town of Uri. He gave me live dispatches from ground zero. The grapevine was abuzz for the whole day. A hundred thousand people, two hundred thousand, five hundred thousand. It appeared that the entire valley had converged into one huge parade. The grand caravan was on its way to Muzzafarabad. Amidst conflicting reports we decided to drive back home.



Everyone I spoke to, rambled with a bated breath. My sister, my friends…everyone. People who formed part of the procession were naturally out of breath. While chatting with Raj over the cell I overheard someone talking about plucking fruit from one of the many orchards lining the picturesque way to Muzzafarabad. In between someone wanted to know the price tag of the latest I-Phone. Such talk often keeps spirits high when you are marching on in an important march. Meantime my own band had a tough time clearing small roads blocks -- felled trees and rocks -- as we neared home, criss-crossing small, idyllic, verdant but sluggish villages. Once we hit the national highway [the original route of the march], did the reality dawn upon me. Kashmir had really answered the call to march. All roads led to Muzzafarabad. We saw a lame man trundling on. An elderly woman was shouting at the top of her voice. I reckon the movement is mass based now while the momentum is clearly indigenous. This is dangerous maths.

By evening, as I post, bad news has started to trickle in. They didn’t let them breach the border, finally. On the contrary the march seems to have taken an ugly turn, as was anticipated. A confrontation between police and protestors ensued near the border. A prominent separatist leader -- leading one huge procession -- has been shot dead. Scores others have either been killed or injured. The strike, which has been continuing for the last six days, is now expected to go on. People seem resigned to it. They wait for some divine solution. I saw people squatting in little groups all the way from Gulmarg to my home, exchanging conspiracy theories in very hushed tones. They shot angry glances at our way-faring car. An unusual tension is palpable in the air. Everything is closed down. All one can feel is a deep and shrill sense of rancor.

Sloganeering often becomes both a source of strength and lament in a situation such as this. As I blog the day’s developments, I can hear people shouting outside. Call it Kashmir’s second uprising or an irrational exuberance.

I get a feeling it is going to exacerbate in the days to come. I pray it doesn’t.

Sameer

Photo Credits: Raj