.Why Kashmir? Is a question everyone asked, when I told them
of my travel plans. Srinagar was not a safe option, with regular stone pelting,
covert operations and unfavorable weather on top of it. There are safe
‘tourist’ spots, where you can get a good time, depending on the size of your
wallet.
But then for me, the question to be answered was ‘Why do I
travel’ rather than the ‘Where’. I always hated to do the same things rest of
the population did. Mediocrity is my most feared enemy. I wanted to do things a
little differently. Moreover I wanted to know and talk to the people, treated
indifferently by rest of India.
The trip wasn’t very easy to do. Just hours before take-off
my friend suddenly remembered that pre-paid mobile connections doesn’t work in
Kashmir. That was a gentle warning of things to happen- One place where the ordinary man is denied
rights to access privileges enjoyed by rest of the country. The moment we
touched the airport at Amritsar, I heard someone talking about a possible
flight cancellation. There was a heavy rainfall in Srinagar accompanied by
snow. The pretty girl in the check-in counter seemed to have fallen in white
paint and seemed to be happy about it. I was quite worried about having to
return home without cutting a name off the bucket list. We waited at the
airport. I scanned the motley group and few of them were from the armed forces
(judging the physique), some of them were tourists (judging the luggage) and
some were traders.
The airport staff were not ready to give any assurance and
we waited on for a couple of hours. And suddenly out of nowhere we were rushed
into a flight and took off in no time. After 15 minutes of rumble and tumble we
touched down at Srinagar airport. From a temperature of 45 degrees we stepped
straight into temperatures touching zero.
Later on I started to realize how the image runs so parallel
to the life of a average Kashmiri. The biggest error Indian administration did
was proclaiming implicitly a national integration based on religion. And
further to it, hugely adorned but shallow ‘religious tolerance’, which is
nothing but depravity of choice.
I understood how far removed our concepts about the valley
are from the real situation. Sitting in the lush comfort of my office and
worrying about how to get back home without getting soaked, will not help me in
making fair judgment on a community for whom a heavy downpour can mean flooding
and lose of livelihood. If weather is worse, the state administration was even
worse. I had never seen such pathetically administered state capital and one
main reason being the power tussle between the army and democratically elected civilian
administration. This administrative failure is the very root cause for the ills
in the valley. The economic gap is so visible and prevalent. This in turn
reflects in different forms of life including lower standards of life, lesser
economic opportunities and separatism.
The people although friendly, view the mainland Indians as nothing
more than walking wallets. Any attempts to befriend them is met with certain
suspicion and wariness. The daily struggle to survive cannot be comprehended by
the tourist population. I had particularly noticed that the tourist crowd,
never stepped out of their comfort zone or strayed out of the ‘tourist’ path to
talk or interact with a Kashmiri. I did
also notice the strong inter link between the Kashmiris where they knit themselves to each other for better
possibility for survival.
Here when we talk about survival, we are talking about how a
small drizzle can turn itself into a flood or heavy snow, casting the crowds
into abject penury. While on a visit to the magnificent Mughal Gardens, I met a
famished guy who earned his living doing manual labour. He was telling me how
difficult it is to find regular job in the valley. His plight was echoed by
many.
The difficult living conditions and the insecurity results
in a closer bonding and tight knit structure to facilitate survival. My taxi
driver and guide was persuading me for the boat ride through Dal Lake. He said
it was a heavenly feeling. I said a firm no, considering the zero degree
temperatures. Finally when the sun shown through we got off in a boat. The boat
owner had quoted unbelievable rates, claiming he will show us around 8
points. As soon as we started handful of
merchant boats started circling around selling everything from flowers, fruits
and hot drinks. To my dismay, I found out that the 8 points were nothing nut 8
local shops. (I strongly dissuade anybody from doing a Dal Lake trip).
As I sat at the airport, brooding over the misfired trip,
two little mynahs flew around the waiting lobby hunting for food. They were
unmindful of the innumerable security checks or gun wielding military. They
flew around nonchalantly. Kashmir looked the same. Nonchalantly and unmindfully
struggling against Indian nationalistic obsession.
