Kashmir: A troubled paradise

As a child growing up after India's partition, Kashmir to me was always a part of India. Only in middle school did I begin to realize that it was considered "disputed territory" by much of the world, the sentiment being especially fierce in neighboring Pakistan. The map of India that we studied in school showed Indian Kashmir as a larger territory than what was actually under Indian control. Parts of it in the north and the west were in reality, within China and Pakistan. The scenic northernmost state, a popular destination for summer tourism and the backdrop of many a puerile romantic song & dance number of made-in-Bombay movies, was not a very urgent topic of discussion for the general Indian public. Kashmir for most Indians, evoked benign, pretty images of apple, apricot and walnut orchards, chinar trees, shimmering lakes, snow capped mountains, houseboats, fine pashmina shawls, lacquered papier mache ornaments and the valley's light skinned aloof inhabitants.    

Later in my teen years I began to understand that Kashmir was not the placid paradise we had imagined as children. Its politics were complicated and its population sharply divided on the state's rightful status - part of India, part of Pakistan or a wholly independent/ autonomous entity. The difference of opinion fell across religious lines. Kashmiri Hindus wished to remain with India and the majority Muslim population of the state did not. Even then, things were mostly quiet and free of turmoil. There were quite a few Kashmiri students in my school. Many had ancestral homes and relatives in Kashmir and they visited there regularly during summer breaks. Those friends were all Hindus. Come to think of it, I did not know a single Kashmiri Muslim on a personal level until I was in college. There were Muslim traders and merchants who came down to major Indian cities bearing expensive and much coveted Kashmiri merchandise such as saffron, dried fruit, nuts and embroidered woollens, but they did not reside in the plains permanently and their children did not attend our schools. The first Kashmiri Muslim I came to know well was Agha Shahid Ali, a graduate student a few years ahead of me in Delhi University who later became a lecturer of English at my college as also a poet of some renown. It was Ali who first revealed to me that most Kashmiri Muslims did not identify themselves as Indians and many felt a greater emotional and cultural allegiance with Pakistan. An equal number wanted an autonomous state with a very loose federation with India for economic reasons. The Indian government spent large sums of money to subsidize the state's economy and prohibited non-Kashmiris from buying land there while also meddling in local politics. Kashmiris became increasingly suspicious of the central government's motives and the rift with India widened both politically and culturally.  

Despite tensions and uncertainties, Kashmir never experienced the sectarian violence that had racked the eastern and western wings of India around partition time. Even when India and Pakistan fought several wars over their disagreement surrounding the region, Kashmir itself remained relatively free of communal strife for many decades after India's independence. The uneasy calm ended in the late 1980s and early '90s when the Kashmir valley became a battle ground for armed insurgents trained in Pakistan and the Indian military forces. The conflict caused a communal rift among long time residents and resulted in a mass exodus (some say expulsion) of Kashmiri Hindus from their homes. Those tensions remain to this day laced with bitterness on both sides.

I had never visited Kashmir when I lived in India. By the time the political upheaval unfolded in the 1990s, I had already left and had been living abroad for a decade. Kashmir's troubles and deteriorating political situation were not something I paid close attention to until the Kargil War erupted in 1999. It became clear then that Kashmir had become an intractable problem for India. I am still not sure how I feel about the situation. What can India gain by holding on to a territory whose residents do not want to be a part of India? Can India protect  regions like Ladakh and Jammu in the vicinity which identify firmly with the rest of India? What would happen if India does decide to vacate the valley and stops spending money to placate the population and maintain the large presence of its armed forces? Would Kashmir valley remain "independent" or will some other country like China or Pakistan march in and establish control even closer to other Indian states? How does one balance the interests of Kashmiris and the rest of India? Is peace ever possible when the citizenry perceives the government as an "occupying force?" Most confusing of all, will Kashmiri Hindus be permitted go back to the homes they abandoned out of fear and panic?  And even if it was possible, would they ever want to return to a place that had cut all ties to India?

I visited Kashmir last month for the first time. The experience was charming and depressing at the same time. A beautiful but somewhat sad place, the political and emotional tensions there are palpable even though the awful and frequent violence has abated. The native population of Kashmir is now almost 100% Muslim, the Kashmiri Pandits having departed from the valley. The tourists are mostly non-Muslim Indians (foreign tourism in the politically unstable region has evaporated) as are the members of the very large contingent of Indian armed forces whose presence is ubiquitous and certainly unnerving for local Kashmiris.

I will not describe here the impressions of Kashmir that were gleaned from what I saw and heard. I discussed that a bit in a comments thread over at 3 Quarks Daily. Instead please see below the fold, some of the photos we took during our trip and click to enlarge the images.

(For how Kashmiris themselves feel, see a Muslim man's perspective here and the plight of the Hindu refugees here.)

 The gardens:

(Chashme Shahi) (Pari Mahal) (Pari Mahal)

 (Pari Mahal) (Nishat Bagh) (Nishat Bagh)

 (Nishat Bagh) (Nishat Bagh)

 

Boats & Bodies of Water:

 (Nagin Lake in the morning) (Nagin Lake at dusk)

 (Children crossing Nagin Lake) (Lotus bed on Nagin Lake)

 (Fountain in Dal Lake) (Shikaras on Dal Lake) 

 (Shikaras on Dal Lake) (Yousuf's* houseboat on the Jhelum river)

 

Dachigam National Park: nature and wild life reserve:

 (mountain stream) _(higher up)_

 

Buildings:

 (our hotel) (feeding pigeons outside Hazratbal Mosque)

 (Hazratbal) (Hazratbal) (Hazratbal)

 (Jama Masjid) (Jama Masjid) (Jama Masjid)

 (the courtyard of Jama Masjid) (shop front in a market)

*Yousuf, at whose houseboat my husband and I had our first ever Iftar meal, was our driver during the stay.

Note: All the photos shown here were taken in Srinagar and vicinity. We also visited beautiful Pahalgam. Our hotel was located right on an edge of Nagin Lake. The pictures of Nagin Lake are all taken either from our room or the hotel's garden. 

Comments

[peony]

It will always be for me too a place of " apple, apricot and walnut orchards, chinar trees, shimmering lakes, snow capped mountains, houseboats, fine pashmina shawls, lacquered papier mache ornaments and the valley's light skinned aloof inhabitants." Here is an old post I wrote about Kashmir and it links to an old one Namit wrote as well.Kashmir remains a terrible quagmire...

[Sujatha]

The beauty still remains, despite the troubles.
I found the links that you supplied fascinating - Basharat Peer's perspective on boycotting the Harud literary festival, and the Al-Jazeera article on what happened with the Hindu Pandit population, albeit with a propensity to try and diminish the numbers claimed by more militant Pandits as being 'ethnic cleansing' and 'Holocaust-like'. Neither can be lightly dismissed. One wonders about how the newer generation in Kashmir is growing up, what are their wishes and aspirations for the future of Kashmir, rather than voices from semi-outsiders- one-time Kashmiris who have left for foreign shores.Surely, there must be more of those coming out now.

[Elatia Harris]

Marvelous! I can't believe how great the photos. The serene otherworldly beauty amid all the struggle for turf and precedence -- very hard to hold in the mind at the same time. Thank you!

[Dean C. Rowan]

Beautiful pictures. I wonder whether your post, published as a travel brochure, would attract more or fewer tourists from the West than the industry standard. Shamefully, my view of Kashmir has for decades been filtered through one highly Orientalist evocation.

Your friend Ali, Ruchira, went by Shahid Ashraf Agha when he completed his dissertation in 1984. It was about the career of T.S. Eliot as editor of The Criterion during the '20s and '30s. From the abstract:

Though hints of Eliot's political interests can be discerned in the earlier issues, The Criterion became openly political in its later years, and imaginative writing was pushed more and more into the corner. Started as a vehicle to support the cause of Classicism, the journal became increasingly insecure and helpless in face of events and ideologies overtaking Europe. A sense of despair overcame Eliot, and the last issue of The Criterion came out in January 1939.

[Ruchira]

I learned about the name change (sort of) and the many other things that happened to Ali after he came to America but only after he had died. I learnt of his death with some shock. I first knew him as a grad student and then as a very young lecturer in my college in Delhi U (he never taught me). He used to hang out with us more than he did with his faculty colleagues. I knew him during this period in his life.

Well, your filter of Kashmir through Led Zeppelin wasn't too bad. But note that I chose Ladakh as the Shangri-la over the Kashmir Valley. So, what do you think? Would you be more inclined to visit because of my post or the standard issue travel brochure of the place?

[Dean C. Rowan]

No question, I'd visit prompted by your post and John Bonham's drumming. The more difficult question is: Which would I prefer to visit, Ladakh or Kashmir? A couple of those photos of Ladakh remind me of traveling north up the 605 freeway from Whittier past Irwindale and on to Pasadena, minus the smog. Both locations come with an "edginess" factor, but that isn't necessarily an attraction. Like movies based on novels, travel for me is often a disappointing derivative of the book. I might settle an opportunity to visit either one or the other with a coin toss, and then just enjoy the ride.

I didn't realize Ali had died. The account by his friend ten years later is touching.

[Ruchira]

Edginess had a lot to do with the beauty of both places, in different ways. Ladakh has a rough hewn, intimidating physical beauty. Its bare granite and sandy mountains are amazingly desolate and imposing. There are some major rivers and lakes in Ladakh but hardly anything grows at those unforgiving altitudes. (See the bare shores of Pangong Lake) However its people are a cheerful and easy going lot. Kashmir is gorgeous in a soft velvety way and it is at a much lower height. The mountain ranges there too include some of the high peaks of the Greater Himalayas (see the Dachigam photos) but the valley faces mostly the verdant sides of the mountains. Also, it is a moist place with lot of rain and many waterways. Kashmir's edginess is political - the vigilant and jumpy Indian military and the surly and wary locals.

[cebu pacific promo]

I always love to watch himalayas in google earth..