Dispossessed

‘He is omnipresent’ is how they would have described Him, when i was growing up. This indefinable prowess to transcend time and space had left an indelible stamp on my infant imagination. He was there in the unlit hidden part of the courtyard where my play mates couldn’t find me, He was also on the other side of the hill where the sun rested in the nights and while I slept He spent time playing with shadows. ‘He is there in your heart’ my grandmother would add. And yet whenever i wanted Him to intervene and help fructify my trivial desires and small dreams, i would always look skywards. That is where He lived keeping an eye on the universe, an estate that was entirely His.
Later, as i grew older, He had settled in a cosy corner my conscious. It was an intimate yet functional co-existence, whenever i was in need i would implore Him and at times plead to look the other way while i indulged in the vagaries of human nature. All along i was aware of His presence but perhaps never really felt it then. Now sometimes when I recede into the quiet and dark alleys of my heart i feel His presence around me. I have started feeling His presence often in some small and minuscle moments. When I saw the old beggar vainly trying to protect himself from sudden rains, i could feel Him in the hope on his smiling face. When the tiny little hands of my day old baby waved at me as she struggled to live, in my helpless state I felt Him right there giving strength to me. I felt Him on my father’s face in his silent prayer as he waited outside the hospital door for his son to come back and live again. When I see the urchin girl and her ugliness that surrounds her I feel Him in the optimism of her eyes.
Today again I feel He is amused at the absurdity of our collective avarice to claim His ownership, to deny Him to others, to confine Him to a few brick walls, to colour those walls. Perhaps today He feels abandoned, dispossessed by His own creation.Perhaps today instead of trying to own Him we need to belong to Him.

Farewell!

It is an image that will haunt me for years to come. A mother pressing her lips to her teenage son’s face, for one last time. Trying to hold him for a fraction more and not let him go, forever. You can almost see her soul, broken and dead. Her quiet, dry eyes create a façade of resilience. Perhaps she is staring at the vacuum, the black hole that has befriended her for life.

This one final look of his face would be one of the last memories of the infinite moments she will inherit from him. There aren’t going to be any new ones. Every time she will return to them to console herself and be torn apart by those very memories like a sharp edged knife. Yet she will come back to remember his beautiful smile, to the time when she had felt him for the first time in his womb, to the night when she had found happiness in his peaceful sleep, to the day when he had conjured up impossible dreams, to the time when he had refused to eat and go hungry in trifle protest, to the apple that she had hidden away for him, to the time when she had imagined him to be frail and weak than his friends, to the time when he was fairer to her than anyone in the world, to his stubborn demands, to his future. And return with nothing but emptiness from those corridors of the past.

I try to empathize, to feel her grief, to make it mine and shudder at the mere thought. What else could I do to solace her? Pray for her, but pray for what? Peace perhaps. Or maybe amnesia.

Sadly there is nothing, absolutely nothing that can bring Showkat back to her. Neither the superpower nation. Nor aazadi.

Random

"It is my insignificance that worries me. Nothing matters more to me than my own exaggerated relevance to things concerning the human race"

"Going back to my cocoon to hide in my sorrows..do shout for me when the spring returns, when you smell the peach and almond blossoms in full bloom again"

Shame

Those ominous grey clouds hanging low on the sky, threatened to shroud everything into an early darkness. The gloomy view reflected my mood too. An amorphous pain had been growing inside me ever since I saw the bandaged dead face of nine year old Sameer. The shrill cry of his mother had echoed inside me throughout the day as the splintered emotion spread through my body. I left work early trying to shut myself behind the silence of closed glass windows as I drove back home. The cacophony within continued to grow. The pain now condensed into a large black hole on my chest and the disquiet was slowing turning into anger and disgust.

As I stopped at the traffic light, I heard a familiar tap on the window. A small boy stood there with a few small flags in his hand pointing one towards me. I looked at the flag and felt a sharp conflict erupting in my mind as I turned my face towards the other side perhaps to hide my rancor. Oblivious to the acrimony I felt towards him, the boy persisted with another tap and a meek smile. This time I noticed his earnest eyes. And this time I detested myself. Perhaps my feelings were no different from the uniformed man who had beaten Sameer to death. Both had ascribed a status, an ideology to these little boys that they did not understand. The truth of this made me feel nauseated.

I looked at the boy again, at the torn pocket of his shirt, at this disheveled hair, at his ignorance of the bigger uglier world around him. Perhaps there was something common between him and Sameer. Perhaps he could have been Sameer and Sameer could have been him. Perhaps the names didn’t matter. Perhaps it was their lost innocence. Perhaps it was the mischief of their age. Perhaps it was the hypocrisy we had build around them. Perhaps it was their future that we claimed to decide for them. Perhaps it was the concept of freedom that they did not understand. Perhaps it was their carefree childhood. Perhaps it is our divisive hearts. Perhaps it was humanity. Perhaps the way it is strangulated at every street corner. Perhaps it is shame that we owe to them.

I felt a scream coming out of me letting go of a burden. I rolled down the window and spread out my hand letting a few drops of rain wash it. Now I felt clean again

The Contrarian View

Being a Kashmiri I do have a certain emotionally ‘entangled’ perspective but at the same time having lived outside the valley for a long time and having had several interactions at a broader level allows me a certain bit of objectivity. (This certainly does not imply that anyone outside the valley would not have any emotional attachment or those from the valley lack objectivity). It is just another viewpoint which needs to be dissected and judged on its merits and demerits. The discourse on Kashmir has largely been uni-dimensional (depending on where you stand) and ironically to a problem which is multi-dimensional, with each dimension feeding into the other.What do Kashmiri’s want? What is the way forward? The answers to these we get are mostly rhetorical. One of the common assertions is that this is another economic and governance related issue and therefore the solutions have to be derived from there. While these are as relevant to Kashmir’s as to anyone else on the planet however they fail to comprehend the problem in its entirety. The recent events have also negated this standpoint yet again.There is no denying the fact that the problem is politico-religious in nature. It is also true that the 'fundamentalist' Islam has made large inroads represented by Mr Geelani in the valley who is also seen to be the vanguard of the movement. The killings and displacement of Kashmiri Pandits in the early 90's also contribute towards giving it a 'jihadi' character. Given the current state of things in the subcontinent the apprehensions about the state turning into’anarchy’ and the consequent effects on the fabric of India in those circumstances do hold water.At the same time, I am tempted to step back and refrain from considering this just another 'Islamic' movement. In view of one of my close Indian 'Muslim' friends who has also lived in the valley if you go by the puritanical Islam 'most of the Kashmiri’s would be considered non-Muslims'. This drawing from the fact that the 'sufi' culture is deeply ingrained among the Kashmiri people. It is also a fact that ‘Jamaat Islami' ,which talked about Wahabi Islam, did not resonate with a large population for many years. It would be presumptuous to assume that in the last 2 decade things have overturned completely. At least on the ground it does not seem to be so. Perhaps it would not be wrong to assert that the militant movement lost its popularity because the average Kashmiri could not relate to the 'jihadi' nature of LeT and such. The overtly ‘Islamic’ slogans which tend to be seen as ‘communal’ therefore may not be so in truth and not to be taken at the face value.The political dimension of this problem is the one that has not only been neglected but abused also. It is one of the key things that an average Kashmiri feels he has always been deprived of. Right from the time when Sheikh Abdullah was imprisoned in 1953 till today the governments have virtually been 'installed' by the Centre. Please don’t read it as just another 'rigging' elsewhere. It has not been about supporting one or the other political equation, it has been about who suited the interests of the Centre and those interests did not match with those of the valley is an open secret. Article 370 which inherently recognized the need to address Kashmir in a 'unique' manner was trampled upon in its infancy itself by abrogating powers of the state that were intended in the original draft. The seeds of suspicion and distrust were sown with this among Kashmiri’s. Though subsequently a lot of provisions made have actually accorded more rights but the initial distrust remains. This is further aggravated by the constant demand for its abrogation by the right wing political parties. In all of this, Kashmiri’s have always felt vulnerable.Even in the current context, by the admission of Home Minister himself, the political process has been in a limbo. Despite the improvement in situation there was little progress in the last 2 years. This was an opportunity for the government to connect and build on its equation with the moderates. Unfortunately, the policy seems to have been again of overlooking the deep set sentiments and believing the elections have resolved the problem. In the process the moderates like Mirwaiz, Yasin Malik, Sajad Lone etc have been relegated to the margins, the stalling of the dialogue process meant that these people would also be accused of having sold out. Like it or not but these are the people who are going to help bring the 'peace' process back. These are the people GOI will have to talk to. Unfortunately, the ground seems have to been lost to the hardliners so far and government of India has compromised the ‘doves’It is also important to understand the full import of 'aazadi' and time for the proponents to define its contours. What does 'aazadi' entail and how will you benefit from it. The answers to this even by those who are shouting the loudest would be nebulous. If it just separation from India what about the rest of the J&K what about the rest of the constituents Pandits, Ladhakhis, Jammuites. I think it the onus is on Hurriyat(both factions) to come together and give a definite shape to their 'vision' Similarly the onus is on the mainstream political parties specially NC to reflect and come out with an alternate way forward that they think would be acceptable to people. It is also imperative for the Centre to stop living in denial mode and have a Kashmir policy in place apart from buying time and hoping that it will solve itself with the influx of tourists. Sadly that is not the case.As far as human rights are concerned, I think this is where all of us have failed. And it is not just 'bullets' but the 'attitude' that has been bringing back the protestors to the streets. The silence of Manmohan Singh is as gross as the inferences that these are sponsored acts. The statements from the leadership are taken seriously, they can help alleviate the pain as much as they can alienate. Of late the media and the civil society have started taking note and this should go a long way in putting a balm on the fresh wounds of Kashmir.Therefore what is the solution? Unfortunately there are no straight answers. The way forward has to obviously look at the problem in totality. It can’t be started by “First Stop this and First Start that’ stances. It does not lie in the past; it has to be found in the ‘future’. On one hand the GOI has to take a hard look at how it wishes to engage with Kashmiris in times to come, on the other the Kashmiri leadership, intelligentsia and civil society need to ponder on how they envisage the future for their next generation.

Faithless Tonight

Tonight the sky is barren again

shamed to unveil its naked soul
the broken rosary beads
are spread like an unsung prayer

Tonight the galaxy is shallower
Than the ocean, faith is promiscuous

And the truth an orphan again
And a tumultuous heart, reluctant to untie
Silken threads of the divine promise

Tonight before the deep slumber, awaits
a longing for the pristine light
to fill the unlit corners, again

The Silent Chinar

Beneath the burnt Chinar leaves
the blood has dried up,
a carpet of dark brown
has soaked the dark earth

A frozen emotion, flows
like a poisoned river in its veins

Shriveled and helpless
stands the martyr of history

A frail witness to the fury
and vicissitudes of time
and people

Hiding the scars inflicted,
its sorrowwithin the hollowness inside

The benevolent shade, tries to spread
to the field of yellow white flowers
where the wasted stars of the night
lay buried below