When Children Bought Hundred Guns In A Single Day
A Psychologist’s Journey Through Troubled Kashmir
PART III
“Kashmir
is an integral part of India.” The slogan catches my eye as we pass by Badami Bagh,
the army cantonment. It flashes on an electronic board. This battle has to be fought
beyond billboards, I tell myself.
Our
driver asks me if this is my first visit to Kashmir. When I tell him no, he
asks if anything has changed in my eyes. When I say things look better, he
shakes his head, “It has become worse,” he says.
He
is our fifth driver taking us to Pahalgam. As the security forces ask the
vehicles to stop to let the army convoy pass, he shows no inclination to stop
but does only when I tell him to.
He
shows me the site of the Pulwama attack and I ask him to stop. He does so believing
I want to see it like other tourists and tells me where the vehicles lay after
the explosion and says 40 men were blown up. I bow down in memory of those who died
and realize this act has made him furious. He spits out of the vehicle. We pass
the rest of the journey in silence.
I
am reminded of an incident where a pianist, unable to bear the trauma of people
killed in an explosion in his city Sarajevo, played his piano at the same spot for
the same number of days as the number of people killed. I wonder if some
musician would ever think of doing it in Pulwama or say rest of Kashmir. Those
army men who died should not live in our hearts as just a number.
The
child in our group starts to vomit and we stop the vehicle. The driver is now
angry and tells someone on the phone he is going mad with the child’s cry. An
army man appears saying he saw us stop and came to check. Seeing the kid he
says it reminds him of his own child whom he hasn’t seen for a long time. We
are all parents and our children are with us. His child is not with him.
On
our way we see a group of young men. “They are coming back after throwing
stones.” The conviction in our driver’s voice is eerie. I try to find Anwar,
the antagonist of my book ‘The Infidel Next Door’ in them. None of them look
like the way I imagined. My psychologist’s eye tells me they don’t have one
thing that Anwar had. The ruthlessness and idealism that Haji chacha instilled
in him. I remember the stone throwers in Tihar jail on whom I built up my
character. The present ones look different, hired for money. The movement has
changed course now.
As
for the protagonist, the priests, only a few are left with most temples deserted.
Some who came on seeing us did the puja (prayer) and left. They looked scared. Do
they know after they are gone, no one will come to fill up their places? Will
there be an Aditya, the protagonist of my novel, anymore to come to rebuild his
temple in Kashmir?
While
visiting Martand temple we repeat the entire ritual of writing name, address,
mobile no. Everyone does so. In some other situation I would have felt angry
but I don’t. I feel a sadness whaling up realizing that this is for the safety
of the temple. I remember entering religious places all around the world. Never
did I have to identify myself. Why are then our Hindu temples so singled out
for destruction? Can someone explain? Does it happen with other structures around
the world? Will those who shout on ‘religious intolerance’ in India answer my
question?
We
all are surprised to see the presence of Muslim girls and boys roaming in the different
temples and ruins of temples taking selfies.
In
Martand ruins I notice them taking selfies besides the idol of Krishna. They
are puzzled when we begin to touch the feet of the deities. Her friend calls
out to her saying ‘Shazia stop’. For Hindus the ruins remain a temple. I
remember having read that a recent Bollywood movie ‘Haidar’ had a dance
sequence shot here with the statue of a devil put up in the main temple. The
actor Shahid Kapoor had danced with his troupe.
It
does seem some temples of Kashmir have a new identity now. A picnic spot to
strike poses and take selfies. The old sanctity and sacredness destroyed and
now the dance of the devil rules. A place where the infidel prayed once and now
is left in ruins. Will more Hindus temples become tourist spots as time goes by?
Will more temples of infidels destroyed by the faithful, join the list?
Is
this the way history in India will get erased, identities destroyed and only memory
remain?
Many
years ago I had gone to Nuremberg stadium in Germany where German emperors used
to take salute of their army and one that created German nationalism. It had shocked
me to see empty beer bottles strewn all over. American soldiers roamed drinking
on the stands. My friend, a German his lips pressed hard told me it was a thought
out strategy after the war to kill German identity forever.
Whoever
put up the devil in Martand ruins did something similar. Could the devil be put
up at Vatican or Kaba and Bollywood stars dance there?
At
Martand ruins, a tourist guide comes. He explains different idols and tells us
that the temple was destroyed by natural calamities. I ask him was it burnt
down by Sikandar Butshikan? He is taken aback. I tell him about Butshikan and
how he got his name. He now tries to tell me I am right
but to save his face points out how rains and snow is destroying the temple.
How many people does he fool like this every day? I wish I knew.
Our
driver tells us that in his twenty years this is the first time he has been to
Martand ruins. I wonder why Hindus don’t go there anymore. It is as historical
as Ayodhya, as poignant as Somnath and as magnificent as Kashi Vishwanath. Are
we running away from a painful past and memory? How far will we run?
Once
Afghanistan, Bangladesh, Pakistan had temples at every street corner. Today,
all of them have been razed to the ground. Those that lie in ruins like Martand
will have the likes of Shazia and her friends visit there, to take selfies.
Will
the young Kashmiri of today ever know why his ancestors destroyed Martand? How his
ancestors were forced to convert? Why a whole civilization, a way of life was
destroyed without any guilt? The urge to destroy ends with self destruction. Will
that be the story of Kashmir?
Long
ago I had read in a psychological journal that the rebel youth of mass
movements and the army, both strip the individual of his separateness and
distinctness. Both demand self-sacrifice, unquestioning obedience and single
hearted allegiance to the cause. Both make extensive use of make believe to
promote daring and united action. Yet, this trip has shown this is not true. The
Indian soldier retains his compassion and humaneness and no one has been able
to strip him of that.
I
pick up a newspaper on the way. An article in it catches my attention. It says
there is an increasing rebellion in the youth and they are getting more suicidal.
It says that Kashmiri youth now counter security forces during encounters by
throwing stones. “Why is our youth acting so dangerous,” it wants to ask.
“The
youth is coming together and becoming a collective. They are more suicidal, more
provocative,” it says. “Whatever the political leaders or military leaders may
say, on the ground the reality is different. This suicidal behavior in the youth
is going on a dangerous path. The separatist leadership, the intelligentsia and
their silence are all responsible,” it says.
There
are two kinds of hope that I have seen in Kashmir this time, one that acts as
an explosive, wants immediate gratification and another one that teaches
discipline and infuses patience.
The
mass movement of Kashmir promises an illusion of immediate hope for its youth. A
gateway to heaven for fighting ‘the infidel’ with virgins waiting for you in
heaven if you get killed. What forbearance or compassion does it infuse?
Why
did the land of Kashmir erupt into such a mass movement? Kashmir has been a
stagnant society torn apart by betrayal. The fanatic of today was once a non believer
and has had to prove his loyalty, his ancestor being forced by the sword to
disown his religion for the new one. The script continues and hasn’t faded. What
showed itself on 19th January 1990 was its termination but led to a
movement that instilled in its youth a new passion for self destruction. But this
time it has also left in him as an anonymous object with no willpower and
judgment, a homogenous plastic mass that can be kneaded at will.
My
professor, considered an authority on human hatred and evil, was fond of saying
that mass movements rise and sustain without a belief in God but never without
a belief in a devil. That the strength of the movement is proportional to the
vividness and tangibility of the devil itself. His words are as true of Kashmir
as with other parts of India. Will then any gesture of goodwill or concession
reduce the volume or intensity of vilification that already exists? The answer is
on the wall.
The
movement in Kashmir was started by men like Anwar, the antagonists of my novel
indoctrinated by Haji chacha to achieve their goals. Today, we need another set
of men, men of ethics and morals who can snatch it from the hands of the fanatics
like Haji chacha and give it back to where it belongs, so that it moves away
from being a society made stagnant by historical forces.
Mass
movements are responsible for the awakening of stagnant societies and Kashmir
is no exception. Like all mass movements that brought about a change, the same
may happen in Kashmir when an articulate minority, however small, finds a voice
for its people that has been suppressed, as to why its people kept on running
away over centuries and seven exoduses leaving behind their homeland, their
honor and trying to preserve their roots with a way of life destroyed but yet
to shaken the conscience of the rest of the world.
Rajat
Mitra
Psychologist
and Author of ‘The Infidel Next Door’
Link for my book ‘The Infidel Next Door’ on Amazon.in
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