By Khalid Hasan
The Vale of Kashmir has risen in revolt once again. Scenes being witnessed in Srinagar are reminiscent of 1953, when the moo-e-mubarik, believed to be the Holy Prophet's hair, mysteriously disappeared from Hazratbal, where it had been kept for hundreds of years. The second time the Kashmiris of the Valley rose as one was in 1989, when their peaceful march to the Srinagar office of the United Nations was fired upon by Indian security forces without provocation. This was the beginning of the uprising, which eventually assumed a militant character and which has remained alive from that day on, sometimes up, sometimes down, but always there.
And now the Kashmiris have risen again. In the words of the admirable Arundhati Roy, "For the past 60 days or so, since about the end of June, the people of Kashmir have been free. Free in the most profound sense. They have shrugged off the terror of living their lives in the gun-sights of half a million heavily armed soldiers, in the most densely militarised zone in the world." Pakistan's leaders, caught in their power squabbles, have done no more than issue the odd, clich�-ridden statement or two. The foreign minister of Pakistan, Shah Mahmood Qureshi, whom I had thought capable of better, and who should have seized this moment to press the issue at the United Nations, instead was seen moving a resolution in the National Assembly calling for the repatriation of Afia Siddiqui, who, as events unfold, will come to be seen as quite different from what she is being projected as.
Arundhati Roy, who really and truly is the conscience of India, nowhere in evidence otherwise, writes, "Day after day, hundreds of thousands of people swarm around places that hold terrible memories for them. They demolish bunkers, break through cordons of concertina wire and stare straight down the barrels of soldiers' machine guns, saying what very few in India want to hear. Hum Kya Chahtey? Azadi! And, it has to be said, in equal numbers and with equal intensity: Jeevey Jeevey Pakistan. That sound reverberates through the valley like the drumbeat of steady rain on a tin roof, like the roll of thunder during an electric storm." Who knows where it will end but one thing is certain: the fear of Indian military might no longer holds sway in the Valley.
It is not only the Kashmiris who have died by the thousand under Indian occupation; the fabled beauty of Kashmir has been under more relentless an assault by the occupiers. Kashmir's beauty was the first to be raped, its women, a close second. The world has cared for neither the former nor the latter. God made Kashmir more beautiful than any other place on earth, but, ironically, also the most tragic. Iqbal wanted to shake away the hand that oppressed the Kashmiris. He died with that hope unfulfilled; so did the Quaid, and Ghulam Abbas and KH Khurshid.
Twenty years of conflict and the hated presence of half a million Indian soldiers have played havoc with Kashmir's beauty. Some 10 years ago, a study by Christopher Duvall stated, "The civil war in Kashmir has had a devastating effect on the Dal Lake ecosystem - the Dal was like a pearl surrounded by mountains. Central to the Dal Lake problem is the semi-legal slashing of moutainside forests by the military factions and their opponents." He pointed out that the Dal was being overrun by weeds, choked with silt and saturated with pollution. When I was in Srinagar in 2005, it looked even worse. A rare species of red deer that used to flourish in the Dachigam national park outside Srinagar is also gone, as are many of the birds and fish. What value can poor animals and birds have for those who have no value for human life?
This is no longer the storied Kashmir of yesteryears. About the Dal Lake, Sir Walter Lawrence wrote, "The mountain ridges which are reflected in its waters as in a mirror, are grand and varied, green tints of the trees and the mountain sides are refreshing to the eye, but it is perhaps in October that the colours of the Lake are most charming. The willows change from green to silver gray and delicate russet, with the red tone on the stems and branches, casting colours on the clear water of the Lake, which contrast most beautifully with the rich olives and yellow greens of the floating masses of water weed. The chinars are warm with crimson, and the poplars stand up like golden poles to the sky. On the mountain sides, the trees are red and gold and the scene one of unequalled loveliness."
Lawrence's description of the colours of Kashmir and the quality of light, which is unique to the Valley, has become a classic. He writes, "It would be difficult to describe the colours that are seen on the Kashmir mountains. In early morning, they are often a delicate semi-transparent violet relieved against a saffron sky, and with light vapours clinging round their crests. The rising sun deepens the shadows and produces sharp outlines and strong passages of blue and lavender, with white snow peaks and ridges under a vertical sun; and as the afternoon wears on, these become richer violet and pale bronze, gradually changing to rose and pink with yellow and orange snow, till the last rays of the sun have gone, leaving the mountains dyed a ruddy crimson, with the snows showing a pale creamy green by contrast. Looking downward from the mountains, the Valley in the sunshine has the hues of an opal, the pale reds of the karewa, the vivid light greens of the young rice, and the darker shades of the groves of trees relieved by sunlight sheets, gleams of water and soft blue haze, give a combination of tints reminding one irresistibly of the changing hues of that gem. It is impossible to do justice to the beauty and grandeur of the mountains of Kashmir, or to enumerate the lovely glades and forests, visited by so few."
The Kashmir that cast such a spell on Lawrence now exists in his chronicle more than it exists on the ground. What remains of its beauty will become extinct unless, as Iqbal dreamt, the cruel hand that has done Kashmir violence is shaken away. If the world stands aside in unconcern, watching death and destruction consume the Valley and its people, all that would be left of this "white footprint set in a mass of black mountains" will be ravaged earth, haunted by the spirits of its martyrs.
*(Khalid Hasan is a senior Pakistani journalist-columnist hailing from Jammu and Kashmir based in Washington).
-(Courtesy: The Friday Times)
The Vale of Kashmir has risen in revolt once again. Scenes being witnessed in Srinagar are reminiscent of 1953, when the moo-e-mubarik, believed to be the Holy Prophet's hair, mysteriously disappeared from Hazratbal, where it had been kept for hundreds of years. The second time the Kashmiris of the Valley rose as one was in 1989, when their peaceful march to the Srinagar office of the United Nations was fired upon by Indian security forces without provocation. This was the beginning of the uprising, which eventually assumed a militant character and which has remained alive from that day on, sometimes up, sometimes down, but always there.
And now the Kashmiris have risen again. In the words of the admirable Arundhati Roy, "For the past 60 days or so, since about the end of June, the people of Kashmir have been free. Free in the most profound sense. They have shrugged off the terror of living their lives in the gun-sights of half a million heavily armed soldiers, in the most densely militarised zone in the world." Pakistan's leaders, caught in their power squabbles, have done no more than issue the odd, clich�-ridden statement or two. The foreign minister of Pakistan, Shah Mahmood Qureshi, whom I had thought capable of better, and who should have seized this moment to press the issue at the United Nations, instead was seen moving a resolution in the National Assembly calling for the repatriation of Afia Siddiqui, who, as events unfold, will come to be seen as quite different from what she is being projected as.
Arundhati Roy, who really and truly is the conscience of India, nowhere in evidence otherwise, writes, "Day after day, hundreds of thousands of people swarm around places that hold terrible memories for them. They demolish bunkers, break through cordons of concertina wire and stare straight down the barrels of soldiers' machine guns, saying what very few in India want to hear. Hum Kya Chahtey? Azadi! And, it has to be said, in equal numbers and with equal intensity: Jeevey Jeevey Pakistan. That sound reverberates through the valley like the drumbeat of steady rain on a tin roof, like the roll of thunder during an electric storm." Who knows where it will end but one thing is certain: the fear of Indian military might no longer holds sway in the Valley.
It is not only the Kashmiris who have died by the thousand under Indian occupation; the fabled beauty of Kashmir has been under more relentless an assault by the occupiers. Kashmir's beauty was the first to be raped, its women, a close second. The world has cared for neither the former nor the latter. God made Kashmir more beautiful than any other place on earth, but, ironically, also the most tragic. Iqbal wanted to shake away the hand that oppressed the Kashmiris. He died with that hope unfulfilled; so did the Quaid, and Ghulam Abbas and KH Khurshid.
Twenty years of conflict and the hated presence of half a million Indian soldiers have played havoc with Kashmir's beauty. Some 10 years ago, a study by Christopher Duvall stated, "The civil war in Kashmir has had a devastating effect on the Dal Lake ecosystem - the Dal was like a pearl surrounded by mountains. Central to the Dal Lake problem is the semi-legal slashing of moutainside forests by the military factions and their opponents." He pointed out that the Dal was being overrun by weeds, choked with silt and saturated with pollution. When I was in Srinagar in 2005, it looked even worse. A rare species of red deer that used to flourish in the Dachigam national park outside Srinagar is also gone, as are many of the birds and fish. What value can poor animals and birds have for those who have no value for human life?
This is no longer the storied Kashmir of yesteryears. About the Dal Lake, Sir Walter Lawrence wrote, "The mountain ridges which are reflected in its waters as in a mirror, are grand and varied, green tints of the trees and the mountain sides are refreshing to the eye, but it is perhaps in October that the colours of the Lake are most charming. The willows change from green to silver gray and delicate russet, with the red tone on the stems and branches, casting colours on the clear water of the Lake, which contrast most beautifully with the rich olives and yellow greens of the floating masses of water weed. The chinars are warm with crimson, and the poplars stand up like golden poles to the sky. On the mountain sides, the trees are red and gold and the scene one of unequalled loveliness."
Lawrence's description of the colours of Kashmir and the quality of light, which is unique to the Valley, has become a classic. He writes, "It would be difficult to describe the colours that are seen on the Kashmir mountains. In early morning, they are often a delicate semi-transparent violet relieved against a saffron sky, and with light vapours clinging round their crests. The rising sun deepens the shadows and produces sharp outlines and strong passages of blue and lavender, with white snow peaks and ridges under a vertical sun; and as the afternoon wears on, these become richer violet and pale bronze, gradually changing to rose and pink with yellow and orange snow, till the last rays of the sun have gone, leaving the mountains dyed a ruddy crimson, with the snows showing a pale creamy green by contrast. Looking downward from the mountains, the Valley in the sunshine has the hues of an opal, the pale reds of the karewa, the vivid light greens of the young rice, and the darker shades of the groves of trees relieved by sunlight sheets, gleams of water and soft blue haze, give a combination of tints reminding one irresistibly of the changing hues of that gem. It is impossible to do justice to the beauty and grandeur of the mountains of Kashmir, or to enumerate the lovely glades and forests, visited by so few."
The Kashmir that cast such a spell on Lawrence now exists in his chronicle more than it exists on the ground. What remains of its beauty will become extinct unless, as Iqbal dreamt, the cruel hand that has done Kashmir violence is shaken away. If the world stands aside in unconcern, watching death and destruction consume the Valley and its people, all that would be left of this "white footprint set in a mass of black mountains" will be ravaged earth, haunted by the spirits of its martyrs.
*(Khalid Hasan is a senior Pakistani journalist-columnist hailing from Jammu and Kashmir based in Washington).
-(Courtesy: The Friday Times)
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