Book Review: Behold, I Shine - Narratives of Kashmir's Women and Children

                                                  

Behold, I Shine – Narratives of Kashmir’s Women and Children by Freny Manecksha (Rupa Publications) could not have been released at a better time. The time when what has captured the attention of many in India is the image of schoolgirls in Kashmir valley, in school uniform, pelting stones. Freny Manecksha’s account gives necessary perspective to what the women and children of the strife torn state think, what their stories are, where in the cultural-social fabric do they stand and what has shaped their psyche. 

Behold, I Shine is in a firsthand account of Manecksha’s research in Kashmir and one can sense the arduousness of the task. Getting people to talk, to share their personal experience, and to capture the essence of their being in a conflict zone is not an easy task. And to do that with women is doubly difficult. Hence all the stories that the author has captured are worthy. They are backed by evidence and thus lend enough credibility, even though everything in a conflict zone is questionable.

Beyond the militancy and beyond the militarization there are lives of real people. The lives of half the population, of women, have been affected in myriad ways. In the grip of militancy in the 1990’s, the women who lost their husbands, who do not know the whereabouts of their husband (half-widows), who have lost their sons make for majority of the narratives in the book. 

The strongest narrative that has been brought about is of the situation where women, culturally and socially restricted, were made to breach those restrictions in search of lost fathers, husbands and sons. And then to earn the livelihood that got lost either to militancy or draconian PSA or AFSPA. This double whammy situation for womenfolk made heroes of many of them, like Parveena Ahangar of Association of Parents of Disappeared Persons (APDP), many of whom champion the cause of azaadi.

 

The resistance, which a group of women show by merging boundaries between the private and the public, has been depicted well in the chapter ‘Maine Nazira, aa kha?’ The author writes that “Kashmiri mothers using their bodies as a theatrical site at monthly sit-ins” might not conform to Western constructs of feminism but in the valley it assumes a ‘radical statement’. The worst memories of 90’s have been kept alive and passed on to the younger generation Ms Manecksha suggests. The narratives of the current crop have been given less space in the book perhaps because of the calm, albeit uneasy, that had prevailed in Kashmir over the last 2 decades. 

The Amarnath land row or the Shopian rape and murder cracked open the fault lines in a different way that the younger generation of females took to protests. The abnormality of an Occupation, whether it is getting confined to closed spaces, being abused by armed forces or dress code imposition by radical Islamic groups, it has taken a toll on the young. Probably the downward spiral in ‘haalat’ goes hand in hand with increased participation of women in struggle.

The author should be commended for commenting on the spiritual aspect and the mental trauma that women and children suffer. The narration is personal, tugs at the heart more often than not, and one can sense the attachment that the author has had with acquaintances. Also notable are tiny details about Kashmir which is largely oblivious to the average Indian.

Yes, there are a few questions that are left unanswered. The first that might crop up in the readers mind is why have the narratives of Kashmiri Pandit women and children, who were ousted from their homeland not considered. Or for that matter why has women who have been found complicit in aiding terrorism not spoken about. Perhaps, the scope of the book does not go that wide. But it does justice to the matter of its choosing. There are after all more questions than answers on the subject of Kashmir. But an empathetic reader, sans ideological and political blinkers, will benefit in making herself aware of the narratives, difficult and tortuous ones, of the often neglected section in the Kashmir debate, that of its women and children. 

PS: As we read this, CASO (Cordon and Search Operations) which have had its share of notoriety and have been mentioned in the book umpteen number of times are back in Kashmir as the government has decided to toughen military stand in the troubled South Kashmir.

Kashmir Grief

 

Kashmir has captured the collective attention of the country again. And for distressing reasons. Killing of a terrorist, curfew, stone pelting, deaths, pellets, muzzling of press, Pakistani insinuation, it has all the ingredients to make a situation volatile, tense and largely unwarranted.

I often wonder what does it all mean to the average Odia or the average Kannadiga sitting thousands of kilometers away from the site of action, having never read anything intellectual (are we supposed to use that word these days, without fearing derision?) about nuances of the Kashmir conflict, having fed each night with a pill of 'nationalism' from TV newsrooms, receiving Whatsapp forwards drawing differences in a tabular form between a Kashmiri terrorist and a newly minted Kashmiri IAS officer.

Whatever it is, the situation is one of grief. The normal life that the average Indian was going on about has time and again been shattered by unfortunate incidences in the 'heaven on earth'. Clinically, there are 5 stages of grief. I have attempted to place the average Indian in these stages.

Primarily the average Indian is in the first two stages. The first stage is shock and denial.

It is shocking for most, depicted by many 'highly qualified' people on Facebook and Twitter, to learn that Kashmiri people are pelting stones at our security forces over death of a militant who had taken up arms against the Indian state. This juvenile thought of shock does not seem to go away even after decades of strife in Kashmir.

Denial of problem perhaps is the biggest problem that both people at large and establishment face. A lull in Kashmir can send government machinery into complacency leading to closing of many channels of peace. If people deny the average Kashmiri his voice, if the Arnab's shout down the Kasmiri panelist accusing them of treachery, if we deny that the problem in Kashmir is genuine it will remain gridlocked and will alienate more Kashmiri's than ever.

The next stage of grief, anger.

This the average Indian has in plenty vis-a-vis Kashmir. How can they come on streets like this despite the Indian army helping them during floods? Let there be another flood. How can thousands come in a funeral of a terrorist? Bomb them all. The anger is just there to subsume all sense, subsume all sanity. That it is going to bring out something meaningful is extremely doubtful.

We are just going round and round in these two stages.

If our worldview of Kashmir is to be changed, our grief over that integral part of India, needs to move to stage three, that of depression & detachment. In detachment can one observe well. It is not just philosophical, but practical. In detachment from the rhetoric that has been blaring since decades regarding wrongdoings of the past that we can move forward.

It would then lead to dialogue & bargaining. If there is one word that Kashmir will understand, that Kashmir wants, it is dialogue. Dialogue and more dialogue, among various stakeholders, more regularly and in a conducive environment. Bargaining chips can be drawn only when there is dialogue and when the dialogue moves forward into meaningful action.

The final and the most warranted stage of grief is acceptance. The average Indian is far from this stage which is a prerequisite for return to meaningful life. Acceptance of the fact that there are separatists who need to come on table, acceptance of the fact that much political ground needs to be covered to get the Kashmiri to the so-called mainstream, acceptance of the fact that decades of living in forces controlled place can scar one badly and sometimes beyond repair and multitude of such acceptances can bring peace in Kashmir and to others in the country.

When my 3 batchmates refused to sing national anthem

 

Thirteen years back, in 2003, in the good old cold January days of Bangalore, the Republic Day of India on 26th of the month, posed before us 17 - 20 year old, who had just half a year back come from far flung places to study there, a difficult situation. During the flag hoisting on college ground that morning, three batch-mates who hailed from Kashmir, did not sing the National Anthem. While it went unnoticed in the beginning, few boys had noticed this act and informed the hostel warden.

The news of it spread rapidly, as any news does in a boys hostel. The reactions ranged mostly from outrage to disbelief. Holed up in their rooms, some in groups, most of the boys discussed this. For  those who did not have much of an idea about dispute in Kashmir it came as a shock. While some of them could not wrap their head around why someone would not sing the national anthem, others thought whatever the politics or views of the three were it was their business.

Nuance has always repelled the majority. Through the regular 'terrorists ke sath link hoga', 'India ke tukde pe palte hain', jis thaali mein khaate hain...' assessments, most of the boys were just interested in learning what the hostel warden, an aged ex army man with a mustache he was proud of and a huge picture of a tiger in his office did. Few discussed the issue dispassionately. Beyond the right and wrong, beyond the rhetoric. When I think back, I feel glad that there was room for such analysis then.

Today the debates that are hogging headlines are steeped in rhetoric. To be binary in thought, in discussion; to be radical in expression, in argument, has become order of the day. There upon us is a unique problem where anti-intellectualism is fanned amidst a generations' lack of delving deep into any issue. In a quick fix, 4G, short attention span era, the complex, the layered, the fundamental issues of nationalism, morality, ideology are getting shunted through a problematic passage. Problematic for the fact that the demons of these issues, unless handled in a mature manner, will haunt us time and again.

Jingoism has to be banished. With the various currents and undercurrents around in the world, fanning polarities is only to make these currents extreme. While basic woes of human beings remain unaddressed, the privileged are consumed in waging a battle that has failure on both sides.Okay, enough of symbolism and abstractions. May the young, who are the rightful inheritor of the world we live, engage in more mature understanding of the debates that are raging. There is no net gain in militant idealism or ideology. The answers that we seek has to be sought within people, within communities, within religion, within nations, and the prodding has to happen, to quote Vajpayee ji, in 'insaaniyat ke daayre' mein.

Coming back to the story, were these batchmates banished by others after what they did? Did a few friendships forged for a few months break? No, for both. Maybe a few jingoistic ones were disgruntled, but nothing was taken too far. The guys went on to pursue higher education in India and UK. They are all married now and are working professionals in India and abroad.

And what really happened in the warden office on 26th of January in 2003? The three Kashmiri boys were called into the warden office. No one actually new what happened in there. Two versions of the story are: i) the warden asked the boys to sing the national anthem ii) the warden in his usual style delivered a long lecture and let them off. No one knew for sure. No one perhaps asked. Sixteen years back, thankfully, the boys weren't booked for sedition nor was anyone branded anti-national for continuing to be friends with those who refused to sing the national anthem.