Battle Fatigues
Returning to Srinagar after nearly a decade is a profoundly disturbing experience. The shimmering Dal Lake lined with stately chinar trees is still there. So are the winding roads and quaint old buildings that make Srinagar one of the most picturesque cities across the country. What is missing is the political adrenalin that raced through its veins.
In the seventies and eighties, Srinagar bustled with boisterous political debates in cafes and streetcorners. This was replaced with an outburst of insurrection on the streets at the start of the nineties after the dramatic abduction of Rubaiya, daughter of the then home minister, Mufti Mohammed Sayeed. Tens of thousands of Kashmiri youth danced on the roads and bylanes mocking security forces crouching in convoys and sandbagged bunkers. Mosque microphones preached armed insurgency.
A decade of armed militancy later, polemics, anger, hopes, dreams have all vanished from Srinagar. Today, like a terminally ill patient, the city limps along with its eyes shut. Militant attacks, increasingly the handiwork of shadowy foreign mercenary groups, are no longer cause for celebration. Nor do street patrols of armed bsf jawans provoke a second glance from bystanders. There is simply no interest left in politics, just a bitter sense of despondency.
The Lost Generation
Srinagar's trauma is most apparent in the increasing sense of drift and despair among the younger generation. "We can't study properly. Nor do we feel like having fun. It is difficult to think or behave normally under the constant shadow of the gun," lamented Yakub Butt, a university student. He and his friends now spend all their time searching for an occupation outside Kashmir. They are openly envious of Mushtaq, a second year medical student who dropped out to get a job as a cosmetics salesman in Kuala Lumpur. Doctors in city hospitals say that psychotic disorders among the youth are on the rise, with an alarming increase in the suicide rate. Srinagar's main smhs Hospital reports, at least, three to four cases of attempted suicides or suicides almost every day. Juvenile crime is also mounting. There are believed to be as many as 10,000 orphans in Srinagar alone.
Martyrdom's Mystery
Despite their growing apathy towards political insurgency, some young people inadvertently get sucked into the relentless cycle of violence. The most telling example of this is the mysterious case of the student suicide bomber, Affaq Ahmed Shah, who was blown to bits after ramming a Maruti full of explosives into the army barracks in Srinagar last April.
Affaq's father Mohammed Yusuf Shah, a retired teacher, and mother Halima, a teacher, are completely baffled at this desperate act of their 18-year-old son. "He was a quiet, religious child and least interested in politics. We simply can't understand what led him to this madness," they said amid tears. A new militant group, Josh-e-Muhammadi, has hailed Affaq as a martyr claiming him as its member but the police are still not sure whether he was indeed Srinagar's first suicide bomber or the bombs in the car were detonated by remote control without the student's knowledge.
City Of Forking Paths
Even Yasin Malik, chairman of the Jammu and Kashmir Liberation Front, who pioneered insurgency in the Valley, concedes that the people have gone into their shell. "They have suffered too much," said the leader with a sad shake of his head as he sat on a hunger strike outside his Srinagar house. Malik today is a pale shadow of the charismatic young militant who captured the imagination of the Kashmiris in the early nineties. The jklf is in a shambles with many of its members killed by security forces or rival militant groups while others have joined the government- sponsored counter-insurgent outfit called Yakhnis. Malik tried to weakly deny that he and his organisation have been overtaken by the course of history over the past decade. Strangely enough, for a leader who was the first to take up the gun in Kashmir, the jklf supremo has developed an acute distaste for violence and preaches Gandhian methods of non-violent protest.
Uneasy Premonitions
I left Ahdoos Hotel for Srinagar airport on the day of a Hurriyat-sponsored hartal with a sense of uneasy deja vu. Just about 16 years ago, I had left Srinagar on a hartal day only to have my plane hijacked by Sikh extremists to Lahore. Sixteen years ago, the streets were full of violent National Conference demonstrators protesting the dismissal of the Farooq government. This time the streets were far more peaceful although many shops had downed shutters and public transport was noticeably thin. At the airport, security checks started outside the gates and carried on endlessly quite unlike the lax atmosphere in 1984. Even my handbaggage was whisked away to the hold and it took some persuasion to retrieve my laptop. I arrived back in Delhi safe and without any diversions but still mulling over the ironies of history on display in Srinagar.
Time Tricks Away
Far away and insulated from the dying throes of Srinagar lie the splendid residences of chief minister Farooq Abdullah, chief secretary Ashok Jaitly and other state government bigwigs on Gupkar road. But the breathtaking view of the Dal Lake and the mountains from this sprawling residential complex no longer holds much charm for Farooq and his aides who are increasingly worried at moves by the Vajpayee government to revive the Hurriyat. Despite his passionate pursuit of golf, the chief minister spends much of his time these days cursing New Delhi which he suspects is on the verge of betraying him.
His old faithful, Ashok (Tony) Jaitly, is affable and diplomatic as ever. But even he can barely hide the sense of disquiet within the state government. Much of Jaitly's professional career has consisted of being posted to Srinagar amid fanfare only to be transferred out in ignominy. A decade ago, he was the subject of some national controversy after signing a memorandum protesting against human rights violations in Kashmir. Today the same man is accused of being the lynchpin of a heartless regime which is looting the state. The bearded bureaucrat smiled wryly at the tricks played by the passage of time on Kashmir and himself.