It’s about human connections, not just about ‘us’ and ‘them’ in Kashmir
The author reflects on their recent trip to Kashmir, highlighting connections made despite political tensions, and impact of terrorism on human relationships
“Fortunate to be alive!” is a feeling which comes to my mind again and again. I was in Kashmir with my husband and we missed being on that fateful day at Baisaran valley in Pahalgam by 24 hours. That day, 26 innocent families lost their loved ones forever, but we as a nation lost much more than that.
This was our maiden visit to Kashmir and I was looking forward to it with excitement as well as a bit of nervousness. Since we were to visit multiple areas, we decided to hire a cab, along with a driver who was going to be with us throughout our trip. I was hoping and praying we get along well as he was not just our driver but also our companion on our nine-day visit.
Our driver’s name was Raees and it turned out that his year of birth was the same as our son’s. He was a 23-year-old handsome young chap, witty and smart. We introduced ourselves and started on our journey from one place to other. Our liberal views helped break the ice faster. Soon the conversations drifted towards the inevitable socio-political structure of Kashmir, conflict between the people and the government, unemployment, terrorism and so on.
Raees told us stories about Indian army’s high-handedness when I asked him how he would imagine a prosperous future for Kashmir without Indian support. Kashmir is largely dependent upon tourism and separation from India would also mean lower influx of tourists. The conversations were logical and both parties tried to make sense of their new found knowledge.
On the third day of our visit, I was to meet a long-time college friend who is also native to Kashmir, but lives in London and coincidently, was visiting home at the same time. Although we told him, we had a driver for the entire duration of our trip, he insisted upon picking us up and taking us to his parent’s house. Meeting a friend from your college days is always euphoric. We were ecstatic upon meeting each other and we moved to his car from our meeting point. Raees was told to pick us up after 4 hours from my friend’s house.
Somehow, I could feel a sense of unease in Raees. Till now, he was our “son”, and suddenly he was reduced to being just a driver to us. However, I did not realise the gravity of his anguish for another couple of hours. When it was time for us to leave my friend’s house, Raees refused to come, saying he will pick us up only from the point he dropped us at. This meant my friend will have to drop us leaving his friends and family whom he was meeting after two years. This really put me off. When I met Raees, I was visibly upset and told him so. The rest of the day was quiet.
Next morning, I insisted we get a new driver, but somehow that did not happen and we were stuck with Raees for yet another day. An eerie silence had taken over the lively conversations. He had earlier insisted that we visit his house, but now I had no intentions of doing so. Raees too, was quiet on the matter. But how could we stay like that being together in that tiny space. We offered him to join us for Kashmiri Wazwan. After lunch, he too reminded us that we had to visit his house and we complied. It was a jovial evening spent with his family. His father was a rather chatty man, nearly our age, who was full of praise for Narendra Modi. I am not sure whether that was genuine or to please people from, what they call “India”.
All was well now and, in my head, I was trying to reason out why Raees got so upset with a fellow Kashmiri? Was it because he was prosperous, living in London while Raees was struggling here? Or was it because he got demoted to driver’s status from being an equal? Next day, we were to visit Gulmarg for two days and Raees dropped us there. On our way we learnt of some commotion at Pahalgam. The peace and tranquility of Kashmir had given us a sense of complacency which clouded our understanding of the seriousness of the event. It was only by late evening that we realised 26 tourists had been murdered and shockwaves ran though out the country.
The first person to call us was Raees. He wanted to take us to his house as our next destination Pahalgam was now out of bounds. We had to decline that offer as our family members were worried sick. We booked a flight back home after our stay at Gulmarg. On our way back we decided to say good bye to my friend. This time Raees took us there. My friend was aware that Raees was a little upset last time. He asked Raees to join for lunch.
This, to me was true Kashmiriyat. Welcoming guests or tourists to your homes can be a part of your culture or business strategy. But to invite your cab driver home, and have food together sitting together was so refreshing. The lunch was sombre yet peaceful with conversations of families, love and friendship. After this, we bid adieu to my friend and his family. Raees dropped us at the airport and we said our goodbyes and au revoirs.
During our trip, we learnt more about human connection, about jealousy, about forgiveness. The more we connect with each other, the better we become. The terrorists, we learnt, were laughing while they killed innocents and left their wives and children wailing. They did not feel any mercy for anybody. They did not feel any connection. I am anxious, expecting this act of terrorism could impact Hindu-Muslim relations throughout the country? Are we going to lose the connection? Indian Government has directed Pakistani nationals to leave the county in three days. And this directive is stricter for Muslims.
Some of them have come to meet their relatives, some for tourism but a large number of them are here for medical treatment. What if some body’s child has just had a surgery and needs a few days to recover? What if somebody’s parent needs chemotherapy at the earliest. Many radical organisations are asking Kashmiri students to leave for Kashmir at the earliest. What will happen to their academics? Are they going to be denied their right to education? So are we going to lose the connection and laugh as their families are reduced to dust and students are without degrees.
Well, one profession which doesn’t need any degrees but rage is terrorism. I heard that without local support terrorism is not possible. I also heard that without national empathy Kashmiriyat is not possible. I heard that Kashmiris want “our” money but not ‘us”. I also heard that “Indians” want their land but not “them”. I heard a lot of “us” and “them”. We have already lost a lot to terrorism, let’s not lose the fragile threads of connections.
Aditi Kundu, Assistant Professor at Indraprastha University in the Department of Architecture and Planning. Views expressed are personal
“Fortunate to be alive!” is a feeling which comes to my mind again and again. I was in Kashmir with my husband and we missed being on that fateful day at Baisaran valley in Pahalgam by 24 hours. That day, 26 innocent families lost their loved ones forever, but we as a nation lost much more than that.
This was our maiden visit to Kashmir and I was looking forward to it with excitement as well as a bit of nervousness. Since we were to visit multiple areas, we decided to hire a cab, along with a driver who was going to be with us throughout our trip. I was hoping and praying we get along well as he was not just our driver but also our companion on our nine-day visit.
Our driver’s name was Raees and it turned out that his year of birth was the same as our son’s. He was a 23-year-old handsome young chap, witty and smart. We introduced ourselves and started on our journey from one place to other. Our liberal views helped break the ice faster. Soon the conversations drifted towards the inevitable socio-political structure of Kashmir, conflict between the people and the government, unemployment, terrorism and so on.
Raees told us stories about Indian army’s high-handedness when I asked him how he would imagine a prosperous future for Kashmir without Indian support. Kashmir is largely dependent upon tourism and separation from India would also mean lower influx of tourists. The conversations were logical and both parties tried to make sense of their new found knowledge.
Also Read:Pahalgam terror attack: Kashmir’s nowhere women living on the edge
On the third day of our visit, I was to meet a long-time college friend who is also native to Kashmir, but lives in London and coincidently, was visiting home at the same time. Although we told him, we had a driver for the entire duration of our trip, he insisted upon picking us up and taking us to his parent’s house. Meeting a friend from your college days is always euphoric. We were ecstatic upon meeting each other and we moved to his car from our meeting point. Raees was told to pick us up after 4 hours from my friend’s house.
Somehow, I could feel a sense of unease in Raees. Till now, he was our “son”, and suddenly he was reduced to being just a driver to us. However, I did not realise the gravity of his anguish for another couple of hours. When it was time for us to leave my friend’s house, Raees refused to come, saying he will pick us up only from the point he dropped us at. This meant my friend will have to drop us leaving his friends and family whom he was meeting after two years. This really put me off. When I met Raees, I was visibly upset and told him so. The rest of the day was quiet.
Next morning, I insisted we get a new driver, but somehow that did not happen and we were stuck with Raees for yet another day. An eerie silence had taken over the lively conversations. He had earlier insisted that we visit his house, but now I had no intentions of doing so. Raees too, was quiet on the matter. But how could we stay like that being together in that tiny space. We offered him to join us for Kashmiri Wazwan. After lunch, he too reminded us that we had to visit his house and we complied. It was a jovial evening spent with his family. His father was a rather chatty man, nearly our age, who was full of praise for Narendra Modi. I am not sure whether that was genuine or to please people from, what they call “India”.
Also Read:Pakistan Army says India gave no evidence on Pahalgam terror attack
All was well now and, in my head, I was trying to reason out why Raees got so upset with a fellow Kashmiri? Was it because he was prosperous, living in London while Raees was struggling here? Or was it because he got demoted to driver’s status from being an equal? Next day, we were to visit Gulmarg for two days and Raees dropped us there. On our way we learnt of some commotion at Pahalgam. The peace and tranquility of Kashmir had given us a sense of complacency which clouded our understanding of the seriousness of the event. It was only by late evening that we realised 26 tourists had been murdered and shockwaves ran though out the country.
The first person to call us was Raees. He wanted to take us to his house as our next destination Pahalgam was now out of bounds. We had to decline that offer as our family members were worried sick. We booked a flight back home after our stay at Gulmarg. On our way back we decided to say good bye to my friend. This time Raees took us there. My friend was aware that Raees was a little upset last time. He asked Raees to join for lunch.
This, to me was true Kashmiriyat. Welcoming guests or tourists to your homes can be a part of your culture or business strategy. But to invite your cab driver home, and have food together sitting together was so refreshing. The lunch was sombre yet peaceful with conversations of families, love and friendship. After this, we bid adieu to my friend and his family. Raees dropped us at the airport and we said our goodbyes and au revoirs.
During our trip, we learnt more about human connection, about jealousy, about forgiveness. The more we connect with each other, the better we become. The terrorists, we learnt, were laughing while they killed innocents and left their wives and children wailing. They did not feel any mercy for anybody. They did not feel any connection. I am anxious, expecting this act of terrorism could impact Hindu-Muslim relations throughout the country? Are we going to lose the connection? Indian Government has directed Pakistani nationals to leave the county in three days. And this directive is stricter for Muslims.
Some of them have come to meet their relatives, some for tourism but a large number of them are here for medical treatment. What if some body’s child has just had a surgery and needs a few days to recover? What if somebody’s parent needs chemotherapy at the earliest. Many radical organisations are asking Kashmiri students to leave for Kashmir at the earliest. What will happen to their academics? Are they going to be denied their right to education? So are we going to lose the connection and laugh as their families are reduced to dust and students are without degrees.
Well, one profession which doesn’t need any degrees but rage is terrorism. I heard that without local support terrorism is not possible. I also heard that without national empathy Kashmiriyat is not possible. I heard that Kashmiris want “our” money but not ‘us”. I also heard that “Indians” want their land but not “them”. I heard a lot of “us” and “them”. We have already lost a lot to terrorism, let’s not lose the fragile threads of connections.
Aditi Kundu, Assistant Professor at Indraprastha University in the Department of Architecture and Planning. Views expressed are personal
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