KASHMIR NOSTALGIA

THE METAMORPHOSIS OF JAMMU AND KASHMIR

Kashmir, as we have known for years, is no more. The old has given way to the new. What the new will be, we shall wait and see; though its blueprint is nearly visible.

I am not upset or surprised that this happened. My heart used to bleed at the plight of Kashmiris. They have been victims for too long: victims of one’s own people and of others.

There is no other way the Kashmir issue can be handled. It is a border state and no country in history has ever granted much leeway to border states. Our neighbour on the other side is not a particularly sensible state, which complicates matter inordinately. Above all else, things have been going from bad to wore for years. Nearly a hundred thousand Kashmiris have either died or been maimed. It is too heavy a price to pay for the pipe dream of autonomy.

Let’s be clear about one thing: under no political system, or dispensation are the people autonomous. Adjectives are only for leaders.

All I wish is for normalcy to return to Kashmir at the earliest. I remember the ten days I spent in Kashmir in 1975, before the state was plunged into misery. It was an unforgettable experience. Kashmir was so very unique!

I had several invitations to visit Kashmir, after the turmoil began. I never went back. I couldn’t bear being back in a tormented land of bruised beauty.

Kashmir was indescribably beautiful, but Kashmiris were poor. But I also got to see the obscene wealth of a few Kashmiris who had political or administrative clout. You can rarely imagine the extent and splendour. Well, let that be; for that Kashmir is now a thing of the past.

I feel for the people of Kashmir. It is hard to foresee what hardships, what privations what traumas await them. The state is under curfew. It is understandable that it is. Ironically, there are times when freedom has to be curtailed to ensure that lives are not lost in absurdly high numbers. It should not be so, but there it is.

It is, frankly speaking, immaterial to the welfare of the people whether they are ruled by the political class in Delhi or by their ‘own’ in Kashmir. No one really cares for them. Because I knew this, I made a special effort, during my tenure as principal in St. Stephen’s College, to admit as many students from Kashmir as possible; not just to admit them, but also to take care of them.

I could see, especially, over the last two decades, the academic genius of young Kashmiris blossoming. Several of them are so very talented, despite the hell they have inhabited. If only these ‘dessert blossoms’ had favourable environments to grow and to excel!

I hope such a time would come, sooner than later. My heart goes out to the people of Kashmir, even as I endorse the traumatic developments. In medicine, sometimes limbs are amputated to save the life of patients -the painful paradox of life-saving cruelties. May this administrative amputation prove likewise to the awaam of Kashmir.