Being in Kashmir

“The land does not belong to us

We belong to the land……”

This century old Native American adage kept ringing in my ears as I journeyed through the various cities, districts, lakes, mountains and heart of Kashmir in my recent visit to the Valley. Situated between the Greater Himalayas and the Pir Panjal mountain range in the north-western region of the Indian subcontinent and being originally a lake created due to the rise of the Pir Panjal, it is home to diverse origin myths whose conflicting nature have undoubtedly shaped the perception of Kashmir in communal terms as the reading of history of the Valley has always been selective and politically motivated. It is thereby significant that her earliest origin myths are recorded in Nilamatta Purana, a Hindu treatise composed between 6^th and 8^th century AD which attributes the creation of the Valley as a place of habitation to Rishi Kashyap who could dredge the water of the lake or Satisar in the 7^th Manvantara with the blessings of Lord Vishnu. This myth identifies the Nagas, progeny of Kashyap and his wife Kadru, as the original descendants of the Valley. They are believed to be snake worshippers and aboriginal Hindus and the deep sway of this myth on the popular memory of the Valley is corroborated by the names of important destinations of Kashmir like Anantnag, Sheshnag, Verinag or even Heemal.  About 400 to 600 years later, when the Saivite royal chronicler Kalhana composed the legendary Rajatarnagini, claiming to represent the uninterrupted history of political Kashmir from the ancient to the Muslim times, he took care to recognize Nilamatta Purana though maintained  critical silence on the long Buddhist past of the Valley, its existence as Purushapura in ancient times or on Kashmir being the seat of the important Fourth Buddhist Council  convened under Kushana emperor Kanishka between 127 and 151 AD. Nor did Kalhana or the successive chroniclers who were essentially Hindu acknowledge the role of militant Hinduism in desecrating the monasteries and other vestiges of Buddhist origin, instead choosing to vilify the Islamic rule in the Valley. Disregard was shown also to parallel Islamic origin myths that attribute Solomon, a Sufi saint with the dredging of the Lake and creation of human habitation. Such selective reading of the history of Kashmir through Hindu lexicon drew indelible fault lines, reinforcing religious and communal identities and constructing binaries that threw the prospect of a unified Kashmir into the winds. In modern times, such myths backed by political despondencies and vested interests have reinforced the fissures thus leading to an unfortunate marginalization of the majority community of Kashmir, the Muslims.

The vulnerable political climate, the ‘guilt’ of driving out the Hindu Kashmiri Pandits, incessant attempts of appropriation of the Valley and its people by the jehadis, ‘nationalists’ and ‘anti-nationalists’ create unease. Thus the fruit-seller of Residency Road, auto-driver of the infamous Lal Chowk or Idris, the young attendant of the houseboat on Lake Nigeen seem to tread softly in their own land, lest they step on to some veritable landmine, lest they face greater accusations. I found their demeanor controlled, voices lowered, words measured as if fear of some unknown slander awaits them at each corner of Srinagar. Interestingly none pointed direct fingers at the army personnel or the administration instead choosing to vent their grievances against ‘irresponsible’ representation of Kashmir by the media, though the blatant and excessive presence of men in uniform within every 100 mts of the Valley seemed unnecessary and out of tune with the prosaic, everydayness of the place. People initially seem withdrawn and circumspect but slowly if one steps out of an inclination to exoticise or commodify Kashmir, the Valley does appear immensely inclusive, her people infectious in their warmth. I was fortunate to gain entry into this hidden Kashmir where the streets suddenly started looking familiar, the knitted eyebrows relaxed as strangers came forward to greet and help and each day I could witness the Dal reverberate with easy sunset banter.  As each evening cries of ‘Mohammad e Rasul’ emanated from the various mosques  and floated through the waters joining in to form a single symphony, their verses being voiced by different practitioners ; to my untrained ears they sounded like mellifluous renditions from a single orchestra piece, symptomatic of an un-torn, unified Kashmir.

History however does not sit lightly on the shoulders of the Kashmiris as each day they negotiate with their ambiguous past and troubled present. I cannot forget Shahid, the auto driver’s reaction when he requested me to save his contact number to reconnect in future and I asked his name. On hearing ‘Shahid’ as I instantly quipped that it’s easy to remember like Shahid Afridi, the young man suddenly turned a shade paler, his aquiline nose quivered for a moment and he suggested, “Shahid Kapoor bhi sahi hain.”

This apparently innocuous suggestion read against the dichotomous religious fault lines drawn across the state, points to the grave weight of guilt and insecurity that the present generation of Kashmiris bear and have internalized. As each day I walked down the Bund Road across the Jhelum, turned corners on the Residency Road and eventually stepped on to the Regent Square where stands the Kashmir Press of Srinagar, and went off to meet Hilal Khan of the Khan News Agency or Masharaf of Gulshan Book Stores to buy newspapers and chat, Shahid’s reply stayed with me.

It seems the Valley is never free from experiencing social, cultural and political appropriation, be it by the Buddhists in the Kushana era, by the Mughals,  by the Dogras during the treacherous rule of Gulab Singh or by parties, nations and individuals in modern times. It seems to be a paradise forever in conflict, its ethereal waters, flora and fauna and the people lost in realities, constructed and beyond their creation and control. Yet visit to the mughal baags or local parks, to the neighbourhood markets or tea shops made me witness untiring efforts to put together pieces of life each time they crumble, weave them through their exquisite ari craftsmanship and live. As the Valley survives conflicts, allegations and invasions and continues to fight the meta-political narratives, to me she symbolizes life and a vision of Rising Kashmir.

– Somdatta Chakraborty

(Somdatta has been  Research Associate at the Mahanirban Calcutta Research Group)

(Picture Courtesy for Home Page and Reflections: Somdatta Chakraborty)