The day that changed everything..

It is five years since that dreadful Eid day when I, along with my one-and-half year old daughter, survived a terrible attack in Srinagar. The distressing memories of that day still linger on.

The 2010 autumn Eid in Kashmir was quite different from any other Eid we have ever celebrated. There were hardly any festivities. People's mood was somber. Socializing was quite modest. For the first time in my living memory, there were no children's toys being sold in the markets. There were no children donning fancy dresses, and going to parks. For the first time ever in our living memory, no celebratory fire crackers were being burst. Indian paramilitary soldiers - armed with AK 47 assault rifles and stone protection gear - dotted almost every nook and corner. Kashmir had been engulfed in profound grief. The soil on the graves of 72 young boys and girls killed by armed forces during peaceful protest demonstrations was still fresh. It was a day when no one was in a mood of making merry.

Kashmir's capital - Srinagar - with its 1.5 million people was akin to a prison that morning. The city's inmates had spent more than a month under curfew. That morning the air smelt of a mood of defiance. Something was on the brink.

Notwithstanding that mood, that Eid was very special to me personally. I had joined my family back after a month-long work assignment in China. It was the first Eid when my baby - Hiba - had just begun calling me 'Baba'. It was her first Eid to hold my hand, and gesture to me to take her out. It was a father's blissful moment.

We left to visit a few relatives. As we drove through Srinagar, the city looked like a powder keg - ready to implode with some long-simmering sentiments. Thousands of people from the countryside had descended on the city - as if to assert their sense of being after weeks of haplessness. Feelings of anger and defiance were palatable. Unmindful of all that, Hiba sat beside me, safely positioned in her car seat, mumbling about the birds, the street dogs and everything she was seeing around.

Old Srinagar looked particularly unsettled. Window panes of most of the houses has been broken by angry paramilitary soldiers during protest demonstrations. Although paramilitary soldiers were still around, they didn't look offensive that day. They were keeping a watch at a distance, expecting no defiance on that day. People's faces were hard to read. They were devoid of smiles.

After a couple of visits-in-a-hurry, we began driving back home. I decided to take the relatively safer Airport Road to home. The road from the Jehangir Crossing towards Hyderpora, nevertheless, looked uneasy. It was littered with stones and brick pieces, most probably thrown by protesters on soldiers. One could spot fewer cars and pedestrians moving. As we reached near the government flats at Aloochi Bagh, the cars moving ahead of us suddenly started to slow down. There was suddenly a scramble for panicky u-turns. Something was going terribly wrong.

As if out of the blue, dozens of paramilitary soldiers, wielding guns and menacing bamboo sticks pounded on the cars on the site. As cars were caught in a gridlock, they began to smash the window panes of every car in front of us. Our car was still at a certain distance but we had no escape. The gridlocked cars had blocked all possibilities of escape. Exiting the cars was more risky. In terrible panic I grabbed Hiba out of the seat belt, wrapped her in both my arms and just gave up to the
inevitable.

Watching the soldiers smashing the cars and then poking their assault rifles and canes into the flesh of the civilian men and women looked menacing. They dragged some men out of the cars and beat them mercilessly. My heart was pounding hard. More than myself I was worried for Hiba. Sensing my panic, she had now started crying. In that mayhem, some cars behind me - trying to turn back - collided with each other. In desperation I tried to maneuver too, but it was all futile.

Within seconds the soldiers reached our car. I ducked, covering Hiba with my body. And there came that terrible sound of our car's wind shield being smashed. They smashed the rear shield too. Some broken glass fell on my back but I didn't look up. I dreaded the sharp tips of the assault rifles being poked into our bodies. Hiba was crying, and was inconsolable. She clung to me in absolute horror.

Luckily, we were not hit, but women’s wailing all around was audible. I raised my head slowly to see what was going around. The soldiers had by then moved to the cars behind us.

And then suddenly in that chaos some cars in front of us, already hit, started to move. Some people were trying to help the injured. Some were leaving their cars and climbing the walls of a Sericulture Department building to run for safety. There was a clear opening for our car to move ahead. Trying to calm down Hiba with my one hand, I used the other one to move ahead, sensing an opportunity to slip out of the place, but I soon realised that moving ahead was a catastrophic mistake. My assumption that once past that group of soldiers, the road ahead to Rambagh might be safe was completely wrong. Much to my horror, I found some hundred-odd angry-looking paramilitary soldiers running towards our car from another direction and signaling me to stop. We were the only two civilians on that road at that moment. I knew if I stopped they will kill me, at least. Their rage was inexpressible.

The soldiers kept on signaling me to stop. But I was so terrified that I did not. They kept raising their sticks in the air to hit us but I kept on evading, driving in an insane rush of desperate ecstasy.

Some soldiers, I know, felt I was defying their orders to stop. And soon I could see some guns being aimed at our car. My sense of judgment had been completely overtaken by fear. Hiba was still in my lap, and I was driving with only one hand. Chills were waving down my spine. Perhaps, they did not open fire after noticing a child with me. From that point up to Rambagh Bridge our car was hit only twice. And miraculously we were not hurt. Hiba was still crying.

I stopped near the Barzulla flyover, where a group of civilians had gathered. I was in a state of shock. Trying to console Hiba, I burst into tears. Her eyes were horror-stricken. The civilians there rushed towards us to check if we were safe. They took us out of the car, and gave us water. Some boys raised slogans of freedom and ‘revenge’. Hiba was still hugging me tight. Someone took us to a nearby house to take rest. Hiba was offered chocolates and biscuits. After about half an hour, I drove towards home. It was another three kilometres, but the road ahead was safe.

We reached home. Our family was devastated. For many nights I couldn't sleep. The horror we had gone through kept flashing back to my mind. My thoughts were with the parents of those 72 boys and girls who were killed by Indian paramilitary soldiers since June 11 that year in Kashmir. I was trying to imagine myself in their shoes. How terrible it is for a parent to lose a child like that?

Hiba was too young then to be told what all had happened. She was too young, perhaps, to even remember those moments. But I can't say if the images of that horror will ever completely fade from her memory. Like millions of other unfortunate Kashmiri children, she has been born in a darkness of violence and pain with still no end in sight. Her Baba still has flashbacks of that dreadful day - the day when our lives were changed for good.

Hiba is older today, and is still young to be told what all happened that day. But one day she will know that story. The agonising memory of that autumn day will not fade away!

Arjimand Hussain Talib
31st October 2015

The Anchar Citadel

By: Arjimand Hussain Talib

To Hamza, Anchar was a mystique. He particularly didn’t like the idea of calling it as a “lake”. To him it was a Vast Expanse, shrouded by trees (especially willows), floating gardens, weeds, algae, lush green grass and some water too - often covered with green weeds, making it appear like a fantastic grassland¬.

At the shore there was a small boat waiting for them. Its wood had largely decayed. Fish-smelling green and black algae had grown on its under-water wooden bottom. It was almost a tree. A horizontal, cruising but almost-dead tree. Water seeped inside through its decayed floor and sides, making it a potentially risky rider. A pile of weeds, freshly extracted from the lake, lay in the middle of the boat. The weeds absorbed the seeped water inside its green and dark world. As if it was thirsty. Shaheen was little skeptical about using the boat, but he had no choice.

Shaheen and Hamza sat on one of the wooden seats of the boat, facing each other. One of the boys who brought them there walked past them, trampled the weeds with his Chinese-made blue Warrior shoes, and squeezed water out of them. His walk jostled the boat as if it would capsize, right at the shore. But nothing like that happened actually. He grabbed the paddle and sat on the tip of the boat on the other end, positioned dangerously. Shaheen dreaded to himself about his fall into the lake. He knew both he and Hamza could not swim. He had an instant flashback of his school report card, which, every six months, over and over again, carried the headmaster’s message in the ‘swimming’ row: STILL A NON-SWIMMER.

The wooden paddle was heart-shaped, signifying the legacy of Kashmir’s dream-selling shikara wallas (boatmen). Its handle was poked deep inside the heart shape of the paddle. The other boy, who went by the name Taha, set free the boat’s moor, and pushed it towards the water with one of his legs. The other leg being in the boat.

Ever since his childhood Hamza would fear the horrifying possibility of a person never being able to make his legs meet in such a situation. Taha hurried to step back his leg into the boat as it moved, and sat quietly on that very end of the boat, with his one hand still inside his bloated Pheran. Secretly holding his Kalashnikov rifle, and making Hamza and Shaheen feel ‘they were safe and guarded.’

Slowly, the boat cruised through the lake’s silent waterways. It dissected the green weeds and algae like a ship would do with ice and snow on an Antarctica mission. Falling dry leaves from willows quietly swam on the waters. They looked like tiny boats – resembling the one they were riding. Leaves that had made it to the bottom of waterways had turned deep brown and black. The boat was soon out of the shore’s sight.

The lake was as mysterious as Hamza had thought. Its waterways were narrow, lined by willows and weeping willows. Most of the lake was actually land, growing vegetables – just like Hamza had always imagined. Occasionally, they would see people working on their floating vegetable gardens there, and fishing. They looked like people from another planet and just ignored the boat as it passed by. Their floating, and often, moving gardens, were quasi boats themselves.

Hamza and Shaheen were soon in a place which looked like a real lake. A small island too was now in sight. After half-an-hour of the boat ride, they, finally, touched the island. Craning his neck around, Hamza could spot men carrying Kalashnikov rifles, hiding themselves behind trees, and standing at guard. It was a citadel of a guerrilla group, which Taha would call a ‘hideout’, hidden deep inside that fishermen’s and vegetable growers’ ghetto.

Just as they disembarked, some of the armed men came to greet them – “As salam-o-alaikum!” Hamza and Shaheen both replied with – Walaikum Salam!

On the island there was an old and abandoned house, separated by a marshy waterway and accessible by an overpass made of three hugged wooden logs. The windows of the house were broken. Doors smashed. Wooden logs, unpainted and half burnt, hung dangerously from the first floor.

There were more armed men there. More than Hamza and Shaheen had initially spotted. Brandishing various kinds of guns. Russian-made Kalashnikov rifles. Chinese made pistols. Light machine guns (of unknown make), with drum magazines full of bullets.

A group of gunmen, standing around a bonfire, was warming its hands. As if they were presenting their hands before the school teacher for a blow of punishment. But inverted. And relaxed. The terror of the school days having gone with the Winds of Death.

Some of the armed guys looked quite young. Some were bearded. And stern looking. Nursing a fire in their eyes. That is what the bruised beneaths of their eyes reflected. Some of them were clean shaved. Innocent, yet intense. Like hawks with humane hearts.

Taha next took them for an introduction with the commander, whom they called General Babar. He was a 50-plus man wearing a camouflage jacket and sitting on a chair, with one of its legs impaired. He struggled to balance himself. There was probably no way to get a proper chair for him in that logistically difficult place, so the impaired chair, Shaheen thought to himself. Everything in that island looked make-shift. The commander was reading an Urdu newspaper when we approached him. He was somewhere on its inner pages. The front and the last pages faced us. The front lead, often written by poorly-paid Urdu calligraphers, was quite legible and read: Indian and Pakistani foreign secretaries to meet in Islamabad. He closed the newspaper and shook hands with Hamza and Shaheen warmly. His hand was quite firm, as if made of wood. After sharing brief pleasantries, he asked Taha to take them to the house.

Taha followed the orders. We had to cross the wooden logs to get to the house. “Be careful”, Taha cautioned us, as the logs were wet and slippery.

We entered into a room in the ground floor itself, which was dusty, and with hardly any windows. Someone had put up a photo exhibition there. They called it an “Exhibition of Valour.” The “exhibition” had war pictures there; irrespective of the causes those wars were fought for. It was a display to make the trusted visitors fathom “The Message.” A place to roil the new recruits.

Hamza, an iconoclast to the heart, looked at the pictures with disinterest. A characteristic of a Lunatic Fringe, Shaheen thought to himself. There was a glossy picture of a mushroom cloud – a nuclear explosion – rising to the skies. A picture of a painting – showing children crying in a corner in dark shade. Their faces were unrecognizable. Painted intentionally in dark colors. To inspire awe and terror.

“This is going to happen if India and Pakistan were to use nuclear bombs in a future war”, Taha began his lessons. He next guided them to a picture of girls (who probably were naked), who, he said, were fleeing the napalm-bombed and Agent Orange-sprayed villages of My Lai during the Vietnam War. Someone had tried to cover the bodies of the girls with a blue ball pen. Taha said it was an ‘elder’, who had said they were not supposed to display such pictures.

“See this is what the Americans did to the Vietnamese”, he pointed at that picture, “but the Vietnamese still snatched victory.”

There were many other pictures, depicting devastated villages and brutalised women and girls. The typical East Asian trim eyes and soft and long hair of the women indicated it was the Vietnam War.

Taha next showed them some pictures of Tamil Tigers (neatly cut from Frontline news magazine). There were many images of young sleeper-clad Tamil boys and girls in combat postures. Their bodies covered with bushes to make them look like trees. They wore uniforms camouflaging tigers, green grass and greenish brown trunks of coconut trees. Their heavy guns hanging over their seemingly-weak and narrow shoulders and bullets criss-crossing their chests like a two-track railway junction.

Shaheen pointed to Hamza to look towards the feet of the Tigers in one picture. The fighters did not put on any shoes. Some of the fighters were clad in nylon slippers. Their feet were in sharp contrast to the sophisticated weapons they had or the uniforms they wore.

“These things don’t matter. If you have the will, you can fight anyway”, Taha responded to Shaheen’s point regarding the slippers. Shaheen sought to clarify, “No, I didn’t mean that. I just noticed. That is it.”

Taha also narrated to Hamza and Shaheen “how bravely the Tamil Tigers had stormed a big army base in Killinochi in northern Sri Lanka.” He was keen to bring home the same message to them: “Persistence, will and dedication were the keys to success.”

Hamza next spotted some other pictures from Kashmir itself - showing some slain guerillas in some Kashmir villages. Both he and Shaheen looked at the pictures keenly. Bodies were kept on slanted beds covered with sheets of clean white cloth. Soldiers and officers posed for pictures as the ‘Proud Killers.’ Captured guns, ammunition, clothes, pouches, were all neatly organized. Making them like eye-catching objects, as if to promote their sale in an exhibition.

“Now bullets are the ink of this place”, Hamza suddenly burst out, pointing to

KILLED BY 100 RR
200 BN

Words that were created from the seized bullets. Finely written. Not by any ilk of ink or paint of this universe. By bullets. Smooth, shining and fine pointed bullets.

(First written in 2001 and published for the first time)

Kashmiri weekend

Can we define the line between work and life one day?

Arjimand Hussain Talib

Can we marvel of a ‘Kashmiri weekend’? Pardon my ignorance, as far as I know, there isn’t something like that as of now. Even if it is practiced in isolation, or exists as an idea, it isn’t there as a culture.

As modern urban lifestyles slowly and steadily breach into Kashmiris’ traditional ways of living, it is not a bad idea to address this question.

Encyclopedias tell you that ‘workweek’ and ‘weekend’ are those complementary parts of the week devoted to labour and rest respectively.

Every culture celebrates work and leisure in its own unique ways. Religious and cultural traditions have generally determined the ways humans work and rest in their living days.

From Africa’s once-secluded tribes to the modernizing societies of the Orient, modern day urban lifestyles are changing the traditional ways of work and leisure at a good pace. Western societies, on the other hand, are generally known to have well-established work-leisure cultures. And that is one reason they are known to be the most productive on this planet.

It is not that every society in the world has well defined work and leisure norms. In modern societies where work and leisure are both taken very seriously, clearly demarcated lines for work and life are quite necessary. Such lines are necessary for us to be optimally productive. For enjoying ourselves. And, obviously, for ensuring a healthy body and mind.

Modern lifestyles are beset with problems. Now if you are living in a conflict zone like Kashmir – heavily militarized, marred by day-to-day uncertainties, devoid of traffic signals to simplify your street chaos and places where you could go unhindered and breathe freely - it is obviously worse.

Different cultures and countries have their own different ways to balance work and life.

Muslim countries like Algeria, Bangladesh, Bahrain, Egypt, Iraq, Jordan, Sudan etc. mark Friday-Saturday as weekend off days. They work on Sundays. Afghanistan and Iran have only Friday as the weekend off day, which means they work six days a week.

There are Muslim countries like Pakistan, Indonesia, Malaysia and Turkey which observe a Saturday-Sunday weekend.

Israel’s weekend follows mostly its religious tradition. Its workweek begins on Sunday and ends on Thursday or Friday at noon. Its work day comprises of eight hours per day.

Russia also works from Monday to Friday. So it takes Saturday and Sunday off. Each of its work day comprise of eight hours.

In the US working week also comprises of Monday to Friday, eight hours a day. Some retail and other businesses work on Saturdays as well.

In the UK, the normal business working week is from Monday to Friday (35 to 40 hours depending on a worker’s contract). But its retail shops follow different systems.

In countries such as Australia and Germany the weekend is considered Friday night, Saturday and Sunday, with the workweek beginning on Monday.

In India people follow varied and mixed models of workweek and weekend. Some enterprises, including central government offices, work for five days a week. Others work for five and a half days.

Kashmir also has a mixed system. When disturbances overwhelm our work and personal spaces, there is no system at all. We have some notorieties as well.

Some time back, an Indian colleague while working with me on a SWOT (Strengths, Weakness, Opportunities and Threats) analysis for the staff of an international organisation in Kashmir concluded that Kashmiris don’t deserve a long weekend. He saw our general productivity of the workweek too low.

More than a line between workweek and weekend, what is more important to us is what we do in these two times.

Western and other advances societies are not known to mix their work and personal spaces. At the time of work they just work, meaning nothing else is welcome to distract. When it is time to spend on oneself, work is switched off completely.

In Kashmir, generally we don’t mind mixing the two lives. The end result is that most people end up doing no justice with either of the two. Kashmir also has a notorious distinction of enjoying a large number of official and unofficial holidays. That affects our work quality too. We are not known to take long yearend holidays and then get back to work fresh.

But does all this mean we don’t deserve a long weekend?

Most of our government services are known for their excessive life and work shortage issues. But there are exceptions as well. In our government I think only the civil secretariat takes a two-day weekend off. Is that one way of conveying who actually works harder during the workweek?

Private sector works more in work mode, leaving too little scope for life. Most journalists work 24*7. People in the banking sector are said to be the most bored lot - they work worth their salaries and yet don’t have enough time for themselves.
People in medical profession, especially those with strenuous working hours, deserve a weekend too. Some teachers and academics also deserve weekends. There are many others too, like lawyers.

In this debate, the big question that looms relates to our Productivity Quotient – or call it PQ. Is our workweek that productive to make us deserve two-day weekends?
For long management theorists have argued that if we give more time to workers to rest, rewind and rejuvenate they will be more productive during their work days. But then there are those who argue that Kashmiris generally have hell of a time of all these, yet their productivity is abysmal.

If we work productively and with honesty through the workweek, postponing some life-needs which can be done at the weekend, we deserve a two-day weekend. That would demand demarcating our workweek and weekend clearly.

In such a case employers will find a strong case for a Kashmiri weekend. A weekend used for what it is meant for – personal and family rejuvenation, reflection and preparation for another productive week ahead. A weekend when official phones and laptops are in off mode.

Can we dream like that?

The columnist can be e-mailed at Arjimand@greaterkashmir.com

J&K Budget 2011-12

Budget and bananas

Our short term populism can’t substitute sustainability

Arjimand Hussain Talib

The pejorative - banana republic – for any society would sound disrespectful.
But as a political science term you just can’t wish away what it describes -
a politically unstable country, dependent upon limited agriculture, mainly
bananas, and ruled by plutocracy. And, worse of all, dependent for almost
everything on imports and outside aid.

The way J&K is planning its budgets sounds like short term populist
accounting – as if tomorrow doesn’t exist. As if the responsibility for
tomorrow wrests alone with those who will live tomorrow.

Beyond philosophical reflections, in practical terms what J&K state does is
borrow money blindly irrespective of our repaying capacity, spend lavishly on
public salaries and spend crazily to maintain political ‘order.’

Spare me for sounding too pessimistic, but doesn’t the substance of our
budgets strengthen our sense of being a high degree banana republic?

As per the Budget 2010-11, we have generated our own tax revenues of Rs
3643 crore last year. The government’s target for this year is Rs 4,183 crore.
So much so good.

But look at our interest payment of our accumulated loans alone – it is Rs
2251 crore for the current fiscal. Our power bill is Rs 2,324 crore during this
year.

The Government would spend Rs 1174 crore on account of repayment of
loans coming fiscal as against Rs 959 crore this year to the Government of
India and other institutions.

And we have other liabilities as well – we will need Rs 2651 crore during the
next financial year for pensions and retirement benefits. This year we have
paid Rs 2031 crore.

Our Security Related Expenditure (SRE) is no small money - this year it is Rs
693 crore.

So where is the money to build infrastructure, finance social and welfare
spending?

Almost 60 per cent of our roads are built or maintained by borrowed money,
mainly from NABARD. If we need a hospital or even an ambulance, we
need a government of India bailout package. From schools to drains,
from tourist huts to police uniforms we are dependent on money from
Delhi.

All this point to a serious political and economic dysfunction. What is alarming
is that it is simply unsustainable because no political entity can afford to do
this indefinitely without taking some drastic steps to set this dysfunction
right.

Four things for that need to go – one is our political uncertainty, second is the
curbs on our global business linkages, third is the embargo on international
air connectivity and the fourth is the fruitless populism.

When the government statistics say that our Gross State Domestic Product
(GSDP) for the current year is likely to be Rs 47,709 crore, reflecting a growth
of 10.35 per cent, I don’t think there is neither a need for jubilation nor
concern. Our GSDP doesn’t convey anything significant. One reason being that
most of the economic activities are propelled by public expenditure.

Public expenditure in theory would enhance the multiplier effect – create
more money in the process. But the problem is that our balance of trade is so
huge that the multiplier effect ends up creating more money outside the state
than here. The money that is generated here is not able to enrich the public
finances, courtesy populism and conflict management. So we are in a vicious
circle which does us no good.

Revenue will come from greater economic activities outside the state
expenditure. For that we need better roads (for which we have no or little
money), we need other industrial infrastructure like industrial estates (for
which the budget has no money). We also need a massive tourism-related
infrastructure for which money never comes, and we have to instead manage
with an infrastructure which is primitive by today’s global standards.

When it comes to revenue generation efforts in the 2010-11 Budget, they look
aimless.

What the government has done for widening the tax net looks juvenile.
Bringing in commercial construction, repairs and even alterations under
service tax net looks unnecessary. That is not going to generate big money.
Nor are services like TV and Radio program productions, architects, interior
decorators, Chartered Accountants and advertising by providing hoardings
going to generate significant money.

Over the last couple of decades the consumption pattern has significantly
altered in our state. With rising purchasing power in our rural areas,
consumption there has increased manifold. Quite naturally, like companies
are targeting these emerging markets, we are supposed to shift our tax focus
too there. From cars to fertilizers, from color TV to pesticides, from satellite
TV to mobile phones; rural markets are the main consumers now.

VAT exemption on pesticides, insecticides, weedicides, milch animals, poultry
feed, beehives and colonies doesn’t make economic sense. Similarly, GST
exemption for Green Houses used in farms is not prudent. They generate good
money.

As someone belonging to a family engaged in horticulture for decades I can
say it with certainty that all segments of fruit, poultry and dairy producing
communities can afford paying tax on these items. Even they can easily pass
on the extra cost to the consumer who is a ready buyer for these products.

It is now common knowledge that except for a small segment of landless rural
folks and jobless urban populace almost all segments of the population have
the capacity to purchase food grains from the market. So exempting food
grains from VAT doesn’t make much sense as well.

What is also strange is that rather than privatizing our loss making public
sector enterprises like the J&K Handloom Development Corporation and
the Government Woolen Mills we continue to waste money for their revival.
Budgetary provisions for these take us nowhere.

What has gone almost completely unnoticed is what the finance minister said
he will be doing this fiscal – allow ‘bulk consumers’ of power approach an
outside supplier of electrical energy directly. This is bizarre. What it means is
that having failed to properly distribute power in the state sector we are now
going to allow ‘outside entities’ get into power distribution business. Where
are we heading?

Another disturbing provision in the budget is the whopping Rs 1037 crore for
Master Plan of Jammu city. It is not bad to earmark more money for that city
which we love, but the question is how can Srinagar city – where from this
government derives its electoral power – be ignored when its infrastructure is
the worst in the whole state?

Sad questions but no ready answers.

The columnist can be emailed at arjimand@greaterkashmir.com

Kashmiris' English Jihad

Reflections on Curfewed Night, The Collaborator, The Garden of Solitude

DATELINE SRINAGAR by Arjimand Hussain Talib

Hope seldom overrides despair for we Kashmiris. Let us honestly admit, most of us often give in to what looks like ‘the inevitability of a national decay.’ Our circumstances usually leave us confused, and dejected. Left marooned and captive, we often crane our necks for a glimpse of hope, some fresh air.

The good news is that our grey clouds have plentiful silver lining. Look at the sort of renaissance our English literature is going through. Kashmir is catching global attention today, and not for ordinary reasons.

It is true that we have a rich tradition of producing fantastic literature, mostly in Kashmiri, Urdu and, to some extent, Persian. But our brush with English is somewhat new.

If ever Kashmir happens to own the hated, the brilliant, the maverick Salman Rushdie, then we have made our mark in English literature for a while now.

If not then our English era begins with Agha Shahid Ali – the genius, who made the literary world take note of Kashmiris’ ability to craft astonishing English literature. No matter the angel of death had him little early, and we didn’t get to read a novel from him, his poems remain the best thing we have ever produced in English. His writings – including his translations of Faiz Ahmed Faiz’s Urdu ghazals - continue to captivate, and leave a reader with incredible but pleasant bewilderment.

What has created ripples in the literary world lately, however, are Basharat Peer’s memoir Curfewed Night, and now Mirza Waheed’s The Collaborator and Siddharth Gigoo’s The Garden of Solitude, both novels.

And, one hears, more stories are just on the way.

Listening to Waheed Mirza at a Srinagar café a few days back was a real treat. This genuine English writer, who seems to know his job well, made an excellent case for what he had crafted. And, frankly speaking, I greatly enjoyed his narration of the evolution and the making of The Collaborator than the tracts he read from the novel.
Having spent the last couple of weeks in the reading of The Collaborator, Curfewed Night, and a partial reading of The Garden of Solitude, I am left with a mixed feeling.

All these three books are undoubtedly a work of colossal effort. What they have done in great measure is make the world open its eyes to Kashmir’s profound human stories. These books are bold, do not mind making people angry, and come with an emotionally-charged personal relation to their narratives. For those who wish to appreciate why Kashmiris nurse so much of pain and anger, these books hold the answer. In two of these books, there is also some resonance with Muzammil Jaleel’s "My Lost Kashmir", which appeared in the London Observer way back in 2002.

But there is something that is missing too – a captivating narrative that captures intricate details normally seen in Kashmir’s non-English writings and an inquisitive plot. Curfewed Night and The Garden of Solitude have mostly relied on linear story telling. But there are some brilliant thoughts in Curfewed Night as well, like this one - Srinagar is never winning or never being defeated.

In the end, in all these three books, the thirst for a narration where imagination goes berserk, and attention to detail sounds obsessive, is left unquenched.
But those who see too much of politics in these books miss the point. No writer having been witness to Kashmir’s mayhem can skirt the political circumstances their authors have breathed in. Those circumstances shape their cognition, and so what they write.

But when it comes to literary merit, one would surely love to see more of magic realism squeezed from a million things that are Kashmiri, entwined in our historical fiction, which is inevitable.

To say that a first person or third person protagonist narrative could have been avoided in these books is unfair too. No creative writing needs to be moored to a particular genre. Likewise, it is completely ethical to narrate a story from the prism of one’s perceptions and biases. But, yes, when personal political biases cross a certain line, and balance creeps in for being politically correct, literature loses its charm.

What The Collaborator does remarkably well is bring to the world the story of Kashmir’s secluded hinterland – the life of the hapless people living close to the Line of Control. But as what Peter Carty in his review of the novel says, The Collaborator is “frequently histrionic and overwrought.” Although that sounds little too harsh while reading, but actually not totally unfounded as one goes into the novel in detail.

When it comes The Collaborator’s title - originally titled In the Valley of Yellow Flowers – a reader is left thinking if it is intentional. A best-selling novel of the same title by Seymour Gerald, published by Hodder & Stoughton, is already in the market since September 2009 in the UK.

There is, nevertheless, a big reason to cheer our Aborted Martyrs kind of writers – waging a jihad of a different ilk, winning friends to their political cause and empathy for their people’s suffering.

First novels seldom bring out the best of the writers. Writers evolve as they write. Basharat, Waheed and Siddarth possess a talent that is capable of producing far more striking stories.

And then we have our other brilliant and veteran creative English writers - Syeda Afshana, Ajaz-ul-Haque, Muzammil Jaleel, Sajad Lone and Ajaz Baba. These individuals are capable of producing English literature which could hit the global literary stage with unpredictable results. I wait for the day when these people find time from their work commitments, resign to themselves, and let their literary genius go berserk. I am also greatly fascinated by the writings of Sameer Bhat, whom we read mostly on Facebook. He has the talent of being a global sensation. He is my favorite number one.

And who knows we may one day have a master piece, a contender for the Booker, as Agha Shahid Ali said – in a language that must measure up to one’s native dust.

Reversing autonomy?

RBI’s takeover of J&K Bank’s overdraft role raises many questions

Arjimand Hussain Talib

A new wave of anxiety has suddenly engulfed Jammu & Kashmir. The news that the Reserve Bank of India (RBI) has taken over from J&K Bank some of the jobs the latter would do for this state is official now. To most Kashmiris, this step constitutes ‘nationalization’ of their most important institution. And the message that they see in this is not financial but significantly political.

On Friday, all speculations about this matter were put on rest when RBI came up with an official press release mentioning the signing of the agreement between J&K government and itself, making RBI take over from J&K Bank the role of providing overdraft facilities to J&K state.

The official RBI press statement reads, “The Reserve Bank of India has entered into a Supplementary Agreement under Section 21A of the Reserve Bank of India Act, 1934 with the Government of Jammu & Kashmir. Under the agreement, which shall be effective from April 1, 2011, the Reserve Bank of India shall carry on the general banking business of the Government of Jammu & Kashmir and act as the sole agent for investment of Government’s funds.”

It further reads, “On the recommendation of the State Government, the Reserve Bank of India has entered into an agreement with J&K Bank Ltd. whereby J&K Bank would act as an agent of the Reserve Bank of India, for conduct of general banking business of the State Government.”

This statement leaves hardly anything to speculation. In practical terms, it, among other things, means that from April 1 onwards this year, Jammu & Kashmir Bank will not be permitted to provide overdraft to J&K government.

It also means that J&K state will use RBI`s ‘ways and means advances’ for overdrafts to meet cash flow mismatches just like any other state in the country would do.
Jammu & Kashmir government has its own take on the matter. Its argument is that it had itself pleaded before the 13th Finance Commission to give a one-time Rs 2300 crore grant to the state to clear its overdraft with J&K Bank.

In a statement issued by the Finance Department from Jammu a couple of days ago, the government said, “The State Government had vehemently placed before the 13th Finance Commission for substantial grant to the State Government as one time assistance to remove structural debt with the J&K Bank. At present, under an MoU, State Government has overdraft arrangements with J&K Bank for Rs. 1700 crore.”

What makes the earlier argument unconvincing is the point of ‘poor internal resource generation’ that the government raised in its explanatory note. It further said, “However, in view of the poor resource generation from within the State and despite liberal Central assistance, overdraft generally hovered around Rs. 2300 crore on an average.”

The government has emphasised that it was the council of ministers who took this decision rather than an individual or a party. It says, “The Council of the Ministers headed by the Chief Minister of Jammu & Kashmir, therefore, pleaded forcefully with the 13th Finance Commission during their visit to the State and demanded for one-time financial assistance of Rs. 2300 crore to remove this structural deficit. In a rare exception to the request of the J&K Government, the Commission has awarded a grant in aid of Rs. 1000 crore, with another exception of permitting the State Government to raise the balance amount of Rs. 1300 crore for liquidation of loan, over and above the annual borrowing ceiling, with exclusion of this market borrowing, while calculating the State FRL-consistent fiscal deficit.”

That, in effect, means that while the “structural deficit” of Rs 2300 crore will not be entirely liquidated, J&K state will be doing the same for the balance Rs 1300 crore what it used to do with J&K Bank.

Both RBI and J&K government in their press statements have taken pains to emphasise that this arrangement is not something radically new. Both have mentioned the agreement that J&K Government and the RBI have in place since September 1972 for the state’s debt management.

What is also interesting to note is that both RBI and J&K government have emphasised that this new arrangement has not come from the RBI, but rather on J&K government’s “insistence.”

On appointing J&K Bank as Agency Bank by the RBI for J&K State, the official statement says, “Moreover, in the supplementary arrangements with RBI, on insistence of the State Government, RBI has appointed J&K Bank as the Agency Bank for J&K Government to manage all cash operations of the State Government and therefore State Government will continue to discharge all its financial obligations with J&K Bank under the agency Bank Scheme.”

J&K government’s argument is also that this is not a novel development which will impact the state’s financial autonomy. Its point is that RBI remains the sole regulator of all banking institutions, including J&K Bank. That much is fine.
However, its argument that this new system “will entail substantial interest saving for the public exchequer while J&K Bank would benefit by way of the surplus to over Rs. 2300 crore to be injected into various developmental projects” is highly unconvincing. There are hardly any obvious linkages.

The official spokesperson has further said that the government had thoroughly weighed all advantages and ‘perceived disadvantages’ of implementing the “recommendations of the 13th Finance Commission” before giving its nod to this decision. So the question is: was this step taken at J&K government’s insistence or 13th Finance Commission’s recommendations?

A big majority of J&K’s people see any such step a dilution of the state’s special status. They also see it as ‘nationalization’ of the state’s key institutions. And that is a grim message. A lot of state’s indigenous institutions have been ‘nationalized’ over the years. The problem is that such ‘nationalization’ creates greater centralization, challenging J&K’s quest for political autonomy even further.

At the end of the day, Jammu & Kashmir’s case for restoration of political autonomy in practical terms is not about a political luxury, it is about need. Centralisation of powers is always bad for people’s welfare. In J&K’s case it is a recipe for long term instability and political chaos, rather than political reconciliation. This latest step has even the potential of putting spikes in the ongoing peace process being steered by the special interlocutors.

No matter the merits of ‘financial discipline’, steps like these will not help in bridging the trust deficit between Srinagar and New Delhi. These steps also raise serious questions over National Conference’s ability to safeguard the state’s special status, howsoever symbolic that might be.

Chaos to dreams

When Kashmiris can wish ‘happy new year’, and mean it

DATELINE SRINAGAR by Arjimand Hussain Talib

For the people of Kashmir, the turn of a year marks just one thing – chaos to chaos. Sixty three years – and even longer – of cynicism leave little scope for optimism, perhaps.

To wish “Happy New Year” sounds little awkward, rather too plastic, in our lives. Some sixth sense says that 2011 just can’t be better for us. It would be just a turn over from one state of anarchy to another.

A change for the better today demands our introspection. And action, too. It is not just our political situation that needs our introspection; we need introspection at personal and societal levels as well.

If what our elders say about the past is any indication, our today’s level of social and institutional degeneration is the lowest we have ever seen. That is what must worry us the most. Our social values – we have for long cherished - and crumbling. Our institutions are going to dogs. Our respect for human life – our own and those of our own – seems not like before. We seem to have resigned ourselves to the slide of the bad times.

Our classical refrain for skirting every good - Ye sha kasheer – yeti shu yethai kane chalaan (It is Kashmir and that is how things move here) is symbolic of a national disease. We need to question it before it is too late.

There are theories and theories about why are we where we are today. But nothing can change the fact that our political situation is our enemy no. 1. A long chaotic political situation has conditioned Kashmiris’ human attitudes and attributes tremendously. The worse happened in the post 90s era. Cumulatively, these attitudes and attributes have shaped what and where we are today.

Today when we compare ourselves with other human societies, we have reasons for worry as well as satisfaction. We are terribly devoid of political and economic systems that are going to survive societies in this highly competitive world. But despite degeneration, we still are one of the most humane societies one can find on this planet.

The first agenda for 2011, as such, must be to define our collective political agenda – something which is based on needs and realism. One of our biggest problems is that no single person today has the ability to do that. It can only happen as a result of collectivism.

To begin with, Kashmiris need a broad internal dialogue. We are highly divided today than ever before. For that, the culture of political untouchability needs to go.
There are many basics that most Kashmiris settle for. Despite disagreements and opposing ideologies – which necessarily need not go – we can still have a common minimum agenda.

For this to happen all native political parties across the political spectrum - like the two Hurriyat factions, NC, PDP, JKLF, Jamaat-i-Islami, etc. -need to sit together and talk. That must bring us to our bottom lines and also distinguish between needs and fantasies. What also needs to dictate this agenda is the realization that no “international intervention” or “attention” is going to change even an iota in our situation as what stands today.

This of course is a big task, but there is hardly any alternative available. New Delhi and Islamabad are tired of the noise we have subjected them to in our differing voices. No one can help any nation talking nonsense in million voices.
And it is not just for a positive political change that we need to do this; it is for our very survival and wellbeing. We need to analyze what does that mean.
Kashmiris are today suffering colossal human and spiritual loss that go beyond the normal statistics of quantifiable casualties and economic loss.

Psychologically speaking, almost the whole Kashmiri population is sick. We are overwhelmed by the strains of professional, family and personal lives, but we have hardly any de-stressors. And all that is impacting our lives. People are suffering and dying - silently.

In the last fortnight alone, 16 people – most of who were in their 40s and 50s – died in my native Srinagar locality. This is an astounding number for a small neighborhood. Most of those who died were suffering from hypertension, which they themselves didn’t know. And I am sure many of us will see such things happening around us if we take stock.

The last 20 years of mayhem have given birth to some grave illnesses in Kashmir. Hypertension, anxiety disorders, obesity, diabetes, hyperthyroidism, low fertility, etc are present in our lives like epidemics. We are undergoing hormonal changes which will impact our future generations as well.

Our long chaotic political situation has a big role in adversely shaping our personal and social lifestyles. Our effective living time is now between morning and afternoon. And we are supposed to squeeze our professional, personal and social obligations in that time. The result is unbearable stress.

One of our greatest strengths – our social support systems – is now stressors themselves, rather than element of catharsis. Our social life has been marred by painful ritualism and artificiality. We hardly enjoy it now. The pulls of modernism and tradition; stresses of insecurity and militarization, dismal public services, insecurities about tomorrow - especially about children - has made a mess out of our lives.

In professional and family relations, mutual distrust and suspicion guide almost our every action. We very rarely appreciate each other’s excellence. We have developed a compulsive love for seeing others’ failures.

But what keeps the silver lining alive on the horizon is our people’s performance outside Kashmir. That makes us to conclude that there is not something wrong with us as people, but the system that nurtures us.

And there is another reason for hope. One of the best things to have happened in the last twenty years is Kashmiris’ unprecedented emigration. Our people are doing remarkably well in diverse areas – from management to medicine, from engineering to trade, from development to media. Some big success stories in our private industry – which are now established brands – are reasons for hope too.

Abnormal times erase the idea of common good to a great extent. Individual survival alone becomes paramount. The post-invasion Iraq and Afghanistan are two cases which reinforce this.

In such troubled times appealing to one’s self interest in setting this mess right tends to work. So our action towards that good could, for instance, be dictated by a concern for the future of our children. Can we afford to give them a worse tomorrow?

By seeking to do all this it is not to aim for utopia. We can at least aim for a civilized society where we can wish each other a happy new year. And mean it.

Columnist can be e-mailed at Arjimand@greaterkashmir.com

Kashmir's Governance-Conflict Debate

A lot of mess in our governance is self made. It comes
from our collective disdain to discipline, penchant for thriving
chaos and a terribly high tolerance to incompetence. But let us
also recognize that some of the attitudes that govern these are a by-product
of the political uncertainty itself – where basic survival reigns supreme.
Where tomorrow remains uncertain, and rules seldom apply.

Arjimand Hussain Talib

Kashmir’s ongoing governance-conflict debate is akin to the classical
chicken and egg story.

So what lies at the root of our messy situation? A governance deficit? The
basic unresolved political question? None, or both?

We have the ruling National Conference (NC) on the one hand which hates
the term ‘bad governance’ every time it is mentioned. NC’s point is that it
is not the bad governance but the basic political question of Kashmir that
is at the heart of our problems. Many others, on the other hand, feel the
contrary.

An objective analysis of this matter makes one thing amply clear: truth lies
somewhere in the middle. Our messy situation is as a result of both – the
lingering political turmoil which goes beyond governance, and abysmal
governance in itself.

And let us accept this reality with grace, without feeling annoyed. Facts are
facts.

Let there be no qualms about this: governance is a basic function of the
political environment in a political system. And if there is a problem
in the very political system, it will correspondingly impact the quality
of governance. A political system where democratic principles are not
supreme, to expect governance to be just, accountable and transparent
would be foolhardy.

If there are factors and forces that undermine democratic functioning
through extra democratic means then the system will automatically
malfunction. Power will flow from myriad directions, and, eventually, flow
in myriad directions too. That has been one of the basic problems with
Kashmir.

But this is not the whole story.

A lot of mess in our governance is self made as well. It comes
from our collective disdain to discipline, penchant for thriving
chaos and a terribly high tolerance to incompetence. But let us
also recognize that some of the attitudes that govern these are a by-product
of the political uncertainty itself – where basic survival reigns supreme.
Where tomorrow remains uncertain, and rules seldom apply.

Let us accept the fact that the reason we are not able to complete a single
development project in time these days is that our governance has touched
an abysmal low.

A few days back I had an interesting discussion with an official of the
Economic Reconstruction Agency (ERA) and a contractor, responsible for
executing the Rs 41.64 crore Rawalpora-Tengpora drainage project.

While talking about the delay in the execution of the project with the two
gentlemen, the contractor put all the blame on our ‘work culture.’ He is
partly true. We cannot single out a single person or institution for all our
troubles.

I think the Asian Development Bank (ADB)-funded projects in our state –
implemented by ERA - offer a classic case study for us to understand our
governance issues.

One of the premises of the loan was that it was meant for ‘post conflict
reconstruction.’ And when we say ‘post conflict’ it automatically goes to
assume that there is a semblance of stability in the environment where it is
supposed to be implemented. But that is where we have erred.

In my personal experience in developing active conflict and post-conflict
category reconstruction and development project proposals in several
countries, not factoring in risk factors in the project design itself proves a
serious mistake.

Now let us see where we stand. The actual implementation on ADB
projects began in May 2005. Although 31 Dec 2009 was supposed to be its
completion time, the deadline is already extended to 30 June 2011.

It is almost certain that it will not be able to finish the projects by that
deadline. As per latest figures made available by ADB, by 30 November
2010, only 65 per cent of the financial disbursements have actually been
made. That means we are supposed to spend the rest 45 per cent in the next
six months.

The point is that while conceptualizing a project of such a mammoth
magnitude, it is critical to identify the sources of risks and contingency
plans to overcome those. We cannot pretend all is well with us and then err
frequently. A logical framework matrix must list all foreseeable disruptions
and identify the systems and the means to overcome these.

Political disturbances are normally cited as main impediments in our
project implementation. It is true that a deterioration of security climate
results in the flight of non local workers from our projects. But why can’t we
factor in this risk factor in our log frame and have contingency plans built
in our projects?

If work culture is the problem, there are varied instruments to overcome
that. One could, for example, have across-the-board performance appraisal
systems and contract conditions – covering consultants, contractors,
laborers, engineers, etc. - which minimize the risks and provide for
replacements. And conflict and political uncertainty have nothing to do
with those. Such instruments are made use of even in the worse conflict
situations than ours.

The recent evaluation report by the ADB, prepared by its urban economist
Hiroyuki Ikemoto and Project Implementation Officer (PIO) Saugata
Dasgupta, clearly point to such deficiencies.

But then some plain accountability and commitment issues also crop up.

The reason we have a single ECG machine serving an entire emergency
department at the state’s ‘premier’ medical institute – SKIMS – cannot
have anything to do with political uncertainty. Can a political uncertainty
prevent such an institute to have a couple of reserve ECG machines? Can
political uncertainty inhibit us from deploying 2-3 mobile ECG machines
in the emergency observation ward of SKIMS, from where even the

most critical patients have to be ‘transported’ to the ECG room to do a
cardiograph?

Let us take another example. On Fridays most of the emergency unit
personnel take long breaks to attend Muslim prayers in our hospitals.
Does our political uncertainty hinder us from having a system wherein non
Muslim personnel could be put on duty at that time?

The reason I mentioned these two examples is that I have seen precious
lives being lost just for these two small issues.

Then let us take our collective disdain for traffic rules and disrespect for
traffic cops.

Most of us tend not to obey traffic rules because we don’t see those who
make and are supposed to uphold laws following these. We don’t respect
the traffic cop because he asks us for a lift back home every evening.
Political uncertainty doesn’t inhibit our traffic department in deploying
a few pick-and-drop cabs for these poor cops, even as the officers have
cavalcades at their own disposal.

In a nutshell, let us all accept some blame and confess that we can do better
in spite of our limitations. We owe our children a better future.

Panchayati Raj in J&K

Rejecting or delaying the elections is both unwise and unjust

Arjimand Hussain Talib

Compulsive cynicism is always bad. And compulsive aversion to everything is even worse. As the talk of Panchayat elections gains momentum in the state, there is a flurry of political activity. At this point of time this activity looks largely negative.

At one end of the ideological spectrum is the Geelani-led Hurriyat that sees any such electoral exercise a political blasphemy. At the other end are parties like National Conference (NC), PDP and Congress, whose some leaders seem to be in a double mind.

Across this political divide, it seems not many want these elections to happen now. Some just don’t want Panchayati Raj Institutions (PRIs) to come up in J&K at all.
When it comes to Mr. Geelani, his analysis of the Panchayati Raj doesn’t seem to be well informed. Those in NC, PDP and Congress who are averse to PRIs have their own reasons to do so.

Whatever the reasons, any opposition to or delay in holding Panchayat elections are not going to do any good to the well being of the common masses in this state. This compulsive opposition will only fuel our political and governance chaos. It will fuel our great suffering.

Mr. Geelani would do well to understand the end result of this exercise. To say that Panchayati Raj and its elections are going to dilute the basic political question of J&K would be naïve. No electoral exercise of the past 63 years has diluted Kashmiri people’s resolve to ensure their political justice. No electoral exercise has questioned its disputed status in a legal sense.

To understand the insecurities of some of the members of NC, Congress and PDP is important too.

When PRIs start functioning, the enormous powers that our centralized political and administrative systems enjoy today will go to the people. Power will devolve from the Civil Secretariat, from Deputy Commissioners’ offices and MLAs to the people at the village level.

In this process, people at the village level will have a say in planning and spending money for their development purposes. They will be in a position to question and self evaluate.

Our state’s governance – particularly that of Kashmir region – is in a mess. One of the reasons for that, apart from the political ones – is that our administrative institutions suffer from an acute supply-demand mismatch. There is malfunctioning of higher-level governance structures because the lower level structures are under-used. The reason these are under-used is that lack of accountability and ownership renders service delivery ineffective.

Take, for example, Kashmir’s advanced medical care institutions like SKIMS. The reason it gets patients who could even be treated at Primary Health Centres or District Hospitals is that these institutions do not work properly due to accountability reasons. Same is the case with areas like education, welfare, etc.

At the core of the indecision among some of the leaders of NC, PDP and Congress lies perhaps the issue of the 73rd Amendment to the Indian constitution that gave good powers to Panchayats.

A ‘coordination meeting’ between the ruling coalition partners - NC and Congress – on Thursday took the prospects of Panchayat elections two steps backward. Apart from postponing the proposed elections by at least two months, the partners also took the decision of jointly studying the utility of the 73rd Amendment to our state. And there lies the problem.

It is now more than clear that the kind of Panchayati Raj J&K has today by virtue of the Panchayati Raj Act 1989 is more or less cosmetic. This act does not actually empower Panchayats to take decisions that really matter. In this case, the Block and DC offices continue to play the ‘king’s role.’

Looking at the merits of the 73rd Amendment, J&K must adopt most of its provisions to make devolution of powers really possible here. It should also bring primary healthcare in its ambit.

There is another positive spin off of Panchayats in our case. Currently people at the grassroots level have no legal safeguard to report, question and reverse human rights violations at the hands of various security agencies. There is a good possibility that functional Panchayats would engage with the higher structures of police, paramilitary and army powers for safeguarding people’s human rights. Such an empowerment of people at the grassroots level would be a great thing to happen.

Now that the coalition partners have set to ‘study’ the 73rd amendment, it is important that they do another side task. Despite the application of this Amendment many states continue to deny financial and administrative powers to Panchayats as enshrined under the same. We must not follow that model.

Another important learning relates to the role of the Block and District-level tiers under the Panchayti Raj system. According to the Approach Paper to the Tenth Five Year Plan, excessive controls through Block and District-level tiers on the village-level institutions have been found counter-productive. It has already proposed abolishing these two tiers.

There has been another critical learning. It has been generally observed that a lack of manpower and capacity to do works planned by Panchayats limits their capacity to deliver positive results. J&K’s PRIs must have a mechanism that allows for full time or part-time staff to support their functioning, including documentation. There also must be a good provision for capacity building.

On the issue of reservation, J&K needs to be little more cautious. It must take care not to create a reservation system that ends up creating greater polarization rather than binding communities together.

New Delhi also needs to understand that without meaningful decentralization, governance will continue to remain in a mess in Kashmir. And when governance remains in a mess the prospects of finding an amicable solution to Kashmir’s political question would remain dim.

While working with grassroots institutions in several countries in Asia and Africa, my personal experience is that a decentralized governance system is the best thing to happen to a country. China is one such good example. It is today much more decentralized than most of the developing and middle-income countries, particularly on the spending side. More than half of all expenditure in China takes place at the sub-provincial level.

That is one reason why we need to be optimists about this plan of decentralization.

The columnist can be emailed at Arjimand@greaterkashmir.com

Yeh sheher badal gaya hai

As if ages past, I took a boat from the Jhelum Bund to the other bank
The other day
The memories of the school days swelled into moist eyes
The times we friends would take the shikara across the river
Swelled by the passion of the unknown, and for the unknown
That boat ride at the end of school - felt like liberation
To home...
Then there was no foot bridge, distances were big
Times have passed, so much has changed
This city has changed....yes Srinagar has changed..
And today somehow the Bund provoked poetry... in this odd digital age
When our feelings, emotions are supposed to be digital
And I dedicate this to all those friends who would take that boat ride

___

Ahsaas hain badle huye, afkaar badal gaye hain
Ya khuda is jahan ke asraar badal gaye hain

Khamoshi ke hang naye, badaloon ka rang juda
Jaise pead paudoon ke naqsh-o-nigaar badal gaye hain

Jazbaat pehle se nahi, khayaal begaane se hain
Nazar nazar kahan hain? Ki eisaar badal gaye hain

Ab aayene aayene nehi, qalam bhi jaise be-qabu
Lafz pehle se nehi, ash’aar badal gaye hain

Pehle sa koyee aqs nehi, saye bhi sab hain mukhtalif
Talib tere shaher ke dar-o-dewaar badal gaye hain

Dr C Rangarajan's Mission Kashmir II

Rangarajan’s Mission II
Can the latest initiative help create jobs in Kashmir?

Arjimand Hussain Talib

Dr C Rangarajan - one of India’s respected economists - is back to Kashmir on his Mission II. He was here in 2006 as well, as part of the Prime Minister’s five panels to recommend economic rejuvenation in Kashmir. His Mission I of 2006 is history. So seems the 61—page report he had submitted then.

Mission II of 2010 - conceived by Prime Minister Manmohan Singh in August this year - has a mandate similar to 2006. This time round the primary aim is suggesting ideas for creating more jobs. But does the outcome of Mission I leave enough room for optimism for Mission II?

The Mission I recommendations were important. But, sadly, very few were implemented. The most important recommendation was the transfer of the Dulhasti Hydel Power Project to J&K state from the National Hydro Power Corporation (NHPC). That never happened. Had that transfer happened, we would have already been on a track to generating jobs on our own.

There were other recommendations as well: like improving road and telecom connectivity, creating an IT city, vacating properties occupied by security forces, etc. Some of these recommendations were only partly implemented.

In April 2008, on the occasion of the inauguration of the Dul Hasti Power Project, Prime Minister Manmohan Singh said Dr Rangarajan’s recommendations “were under the active consideration of the central government.” Two years down the line today, there is no word on the follow up to that promise. Kashmir’s power situation is as bad as it was before.

The latest initiative includes members like Infosys Chairman N R Narayana Murthy; Tarun Das, former Chief Mentor, CII and Shakeel Qalander, President of FCIK.

Interestingly, Narayana Murthy has suggested to Dr Rangarajan to hold video conferences, rather than personal meetings in Kashmir. He is said to be bored with visiting this place again and again and doing the same job all over again. He too has done similar tasks before.

So what different is going to happen now?

Kashmir’s unemployment crisis has four fundamental problems: one is the political situation here, second is our pathetic work culture, third is our collective attitude towards the state and the fourth is our lack of economic direction.

It doesn’t make sense to re-emphasise that without an improvement in the political situation, things are not going to work well in Kashmir. If this state has the requisite political space necessary to generate economic activities, job creation will happen automatically in a sustainable manner.

One of the by-products of the political crisis is that these models of job creation assume New Delhi to be the primary propeller and sustainer of jobs in this state. And that is where the problem lies.

Now whatever good ideas and things happen here they get marred because of dismal governance, especially in Kashmir Valley.

Bad governance in Kashmir is a function of two things – political ad hocism and people’s attitudes of casualness and state dependency. There is a serious dearth of discipline in government functioning, which has a cascade effect: to administrative system and the society at large.

And when the society at large is affected, private enterprise and creativity are affected too. Despite excellent human resources, our bad work culture ensures failures.

Then is the question of direction. What is our niche area? Is it agriculture? Is it services or industry? Quite obviously, agriculture, including its value-addition activities, and services, mainly tourism, need to be our focus. We need to take policy decisions which serve to strengthen that.

The fundamental reason our agriculture is witnessing a decline is the loss of interest of the peasantry in agriculture. The reasons for that is the price escalation of land and the incentive of government jobs offered to rural vote banks.
It makes good economic sense for most farmers today to sell their land and invest the money in other activities. The returns far outweigh the returns a farmer would get from farming all his life.

The reason why land prices escalated in Kashmir abruptly is because of the railway project here. It created an economic bubble which is basically a problem. I was perhaps the only one to say publicly (Railway’s bad economics, GK, 12 Nov. 2006) that the railway project will destroy our agriculture and horticulture in the long term.

Say whatever, the fact is that horticulture and agriculture will be Kashmir’s primary job providers. There is a great scope for value-added agri products. But government of India and the state governments have certain policy responsibilities.

Let us take saffron sector, for instance. From 2.7 lakhs per kilo in 2008 to 1.10 lakhs per kilo since 2009, the very survival of saffron sector is in question today. That is primarily because there is a lack of policy direction with regard to illegal smuggling and custom duties on imports into India. The other day I heard a SKUAST scientist – Dr F A Nehvi – at a seminar saying that if we double productivity of saffron over the next three years, a project goal for the new saffron Mission, Kashmir will earn some Rs 4642.50 crore annually.

Then let us take apples. Our apple prices suffer because we flood markets in a month’s period. Government-created and maintained cold storage facilities are no solution. Private-owned cold storages hold the key to this challenge. So do private initiatives in value-added products in this sector.

Tourism too could be a great job provider. But that depends on how quickly a political solution will come and improve the security situation here. It also needs New Delhi’s honest facilitation. For instance, Srinagar International Airport continues to be a local airport despite being designated as ‘international.’

For knowledge-based jobs, there is a lot to be done – including creation of a conducive investment and business climate. Unfortunately, that looks improbable to happen without a political solution in Kashmir.

As per the June 2010 figures, the total number of unemployed youth registered with the District Employment and Counseling Centres in J&K is 5,92,031. It is a gigantic number for a state like ours.

The government’s plan for providing capital for self-employment ventures seems almost a non starter. The Overseas Employment Corporation too seems not to have taken off as of now.

All of these are good ideas, which need action. The Sher-e-Kashmir Employment and Welfare Policy for Youth (SKEWPY), we must remember, is only a short term measure.
In the final analysis, it will be a mix of politics and economics which can create more jobs in Kashmir. No single approach will do.

Feedback at Arjimand@greaterkashmir.com

J&K’s State of Environment Report

Going green, at last

DATELINE SRINAGAR
BY ARJIMAND HUSSAIN TALIB

Though late by eight years, it is fantastic news that Jammu & Kashmir will shortly have its first State of Environment (SoE) Report. We always needed such a report quite badly. The simple reason being that we are in a pathetic condition environmentally today. And, worse, that we are deteriorating quite fast.

Now that we are going to have such a report, our first aim must be a major policy overhaul, and not a mere research-based report. A policy overhaul must be followed up with verifiable action on implementation and enforcement.

For centuries, our state, especially the Kashmir and Ladakh regions, have attracted travelers from across the globe for relishing their special environment. We have ourselves always relished the quality of our life because of the special air, water and other elements of Kashmir’s physical environment. But what has heralded some sort of Armageddon is the rate of degradation of our environment. The dangers to our health and livelihoods are grave. Having travelled and studied environmental issues in more than 20 countries, including in sub-Saharan Africa, I am yet to come across as high the rate of degradation as in Kashmir. We have a serious wake up call.

There are three unique set of environmental issues confronting our three regions of Kashmir, Jammu and Ladakh.

The most serious environmental challenge is confronted by Kashmir region. It is the smallest of the three regions, but hosts the largest and the densest human population of the state. It is also the highest recipient of the migrant population, tourists and others. Naturally, the stress on its natural environment is the highest.

Another important aspect is that of governance quality, militarization and conflict. Kashmir region has the poorest governance. The intensity of conflict here is also the gravest. It, perhaps, also has the largest military concentration.

Although Ladakh too has problems, its advantage is that it has a tiny population spread over a vast geographical area. The stress on its physical environment is relatively less. Its second advantage is its quality of governance. It has a good culture of community-driven environmental protection and ecological conservation.

Some of Jammu’s problems are similar to Kashmir. Since it is the most industrialized region in the state, some of its problems are even graver.

What is very crucial for this report is the manner it is structured. If it is structured on the pattern of the government of India’s annual State of Environment Report it would do a good job only partly. For doing an excellent job it will have to structure the report based on this state’s unique conditions. And that will not be achieved by basing the report solely on government statistics and toeing only a state-centric line.

The Government of India’s State of Environment Report, 2009, is a case in point. It has focused on issues like climate change, food security, water security, energy security and urbanization. It is OK to focus on these issues in our report as well, but we must not copy-paste its structure and approach. This report seeks to assess initiatives to monitor further degradation of environment and also suggests policy options. That is something which our SoE must aim too.

It makes complete sense to have the Department of Environment, Ecology and Remote Sensing to do the leadership job on this report. In the preparation of the Government of India’s State of Environment Report 2009– Development Alternatives - a non government agency, acted an equal partner. That has brought in intense value to that report. Our report must also have some ideas from outside the government system. That will make it more credible.

The global Environmental Performance Index (EPI), which categorizes all countries based on their environmental performance, will be a good model also to keep in view for our report. EPI looks at things in two broad categories - environmental health and ecosystem vitality. Both are very critical to our state, and go beyond statistical indicators.

When it comes to environmental health, our SoE should not only look at the extent of pollution to our water bodies, it must look at the issues of access to sanitation and safe drinking water too. If we try to develop indices for our water quality, water stress, water scarcity, etc. we will be able to evaluate our deterioration or improvement on an annual basis. That will be important for course correction.

Similarly, when it comes to outdoor air pollution, an evaluation of the sources and impact of urban particulates is a must. Our report should highlight the policy corrections needed in the development of our roads, etc. We need to keep our local ozone also in view.

On other issues of eco system vitality we need to go beyond statistics as well. We not only need to understand the extent of sulfur dioxide emissions, we need to know their sources as well.

When it comes to agriculture, there are too many imperatives which we haven’t given too much of attention. For instance, we need to analyse the impact of growing stock, irrigation stress, pesticide use and excess-fertilizer use. We also need to talk about pesticide and chemical fertilizer regulation. Forest cover change and critical habitat protection need our focus too.

On climate change we cannot afford to remain indifferent and see it as a global problem. This report must seek to look into the issue of greenhouse gas emissions per capita, carbon dioxide emissions per electricity unit generation and industrial greenhouse gas emission intensity in all of our regions.

SoE for J&K has a big burden of expectations. The problem is that the way we all live and demolish our environment makes one feel as if there is no tomorrow for us. This report must seek to rekindle hopes for a tomorrow. A better tomorrow.

Festival of Kashmir Interlocutors

Questions before New Delhi and Geelani Sahib

DATELINE SRINAGAR BY ARJIMAND HUSSAIN TALIB

Former Indian diplomat G Parthasarthy, while commenting on New Delhi’s latest Kashmir initiative, in an article “Not all in J&K are Kashmiris” on October 14 in Deccan Chronicle, made an interesting statement, “Let us not forget 45 per cent of the people of Jammu & Kashmir are Dogras, Punjabis, Paharis, Bakarwals, Gujjars, Buddhists and Shias.”

Mr. Parthasarthy’s views are a general reflection of how most of the people in India’s political establishment think about Kashmir. It is also a reflection of New Delhi’s political approach on this issue ever since 1947.

The problem is that few people today realize the gravity of the powder keg situation of Kashmir. Few people are able to objectively visualize the cumulative effect of Kashmir’s failing economy, militarized governance, New Delhi’s political micro management, acute unemployment, tight military control and religious radicalism on both sides.

New Delhi’s latest Kashmir initiative in the form of new interlocutors has shocked many. The terms of reference and the format of the initiative looks like a classic NGO needs assessment exercise. Worse, it sounds a repetition of many such past exercises. There is a lot of cynicism about the outcome in Kashmir. Everyone seems to remember that the ink on the reports of the five Working Groups Prime Minister Manmohan Singh had formed is yet to dry up.
There are many in Kashmir who feel that the very idea of ‘interlocutors’ on Kashmir is out of sync with the real need – that is engagement between New Delhi and the state’s political formations at a political level. This view has a great merit.

Technically, political interlocutors are engaged to open lines of communications between two estranged parties in a political conflict. The new Kashmir interlocutors will end up meeting at least 1001 groups and individuals in its one-year time frame – who, in all probability, will include politicians, activists, business groups, ‘civil society’ actors, academics, journalists, NGOs, state-sponsored minority ‘representative’ groups, trade unions, students’ groups and so on.

Over the years, the centre of gravity of New Delhi’s political engagement on Kashmir has shifted towards engagement with the ‘civil society’ here. What needs to be appreciated is that engagement with the kind of ‘civil society’ Kashmir has today has limitations. Civil society does in fact play a pivotal role in influencing public opinion, but in Kashmir’s context its ability to do so to an extent where it can alter political dynamics is highly limited.

Admitted, the three interlocutors have an objective view about Kashmir. At the end of the day it is not what these ‘interlocutors’ will report back that will matter. What will matter is New Delhi’s political will of addressing Kashmir’s real political issues, which it knows quite well, and which it does not need any interlocutors to understand.

On the other extreme end in Kashmir are the position and the political approach taken by Hurriyat (G) leader Syed Ali Shah Geelani. The strategy of long shutdowns and a political approach which seems to be frozen somewhere in the times of Maulana Maudoodi and 1980s need fresh thinking too. It is true that the formidable support base Geelani sahib has, does not want him to budge an inch from his stand and approach. But, as a leader, who is being followed, he needs to understand the follies of his approach as well.

The first thing to realize is that what was politically applicable in 1980s as a strategy may not necessarily hold true today. A lot has changed since then locally as well as globally. It is true that his movement is denied democratic space for peaceful mobilization and expression, but his strategy needs to factor in this limitation too.

The premise that Kashmir’s moral high ground through long shutdowns will force New Delhi to accept Kashmir as a dispute and win international support is little too misplaced.

It is true there are many people in India and beyond who are sympathetic to Kashmir’s basic political cause, but does sympathy alone translate into support and political transformation?

In international politics and diplomacy it is only self interest that guides political stands. Currently, most of the international community’s interest, including that of most of Muslim countries, lies in the political status quo in Kashmir. This reality needs to be factored in Hurriyat (G)’s strategy.

The second question relates to political inclusiveness and joint advocacy. The fact is that no single leader can stake claim to sole leadership of Kashmir. Any political approach based on honest resolution of this issue will have to be inclusive and accommodative. Beyond core ideologies, a break from the deadlock demands accommodation. In the absence of a united Hurriyat – speaking for all those who do not believe in the status quo – New Delhi will always have ample political and geographical space for conflict management in Kashmir.

What Geelani sahib also needs to come to terms with is the bitter reality of Parthasarthy’s “45 per cent” argument. Why Hurriyat (G)’s politics shrunk exclusively to Kashmir Valley and failed inclusiveness across Pinpanjal and among Gujjar, Pahari and Shia sections needs introspection too.

There is another side to the current deadlock - that is economic. A daylong of shutdown in the 80s or 90s meant largely disruption to government services in Kashmir. There wasn’t as great private economic activity then as today. Services sector was limited. Today’s daylong shutdown results in economic catastrophe, the results of which will be felt in several decades to come. Further economic deprivation and job losses will ultimately push people closer to the state.

Then there is the issue of power inequality. The power equation between Srinagar and New Delhi is overly in the latter’s favor. Hurriyat (G)’s current strategy will deteriorate Kashmir’s this equation not only vis-à-vis New Delhi but Jammu and Ladakh regions as well. That will mean the centre of gravity of most of the economic activities will shift to Jammu, something that has already happened to alarming levels in the last two decades. The end result will be political. Jammu will attain greater economic, demographic and political stature, leaving Kashmir as an entity of secondary or even tertiary importance. That has already happened. That is a process which Kashmir will find impossible to reverse. Kashmir will have been politically defeated by its own hands.

Then is the question of brain drain and reverse investment. Kashmiris, who had lately begun to come back, invest and create institutions here, are going back again. A precarious private investment climate will mean the state will attain greater role as an economic moderator. That will make people even more dependent on the state.

Finally, there is a psychological aspect of this deadlock too. Long spells of hopelessness, economic loss and stress will result in an epidemic of anxiety disorders among its hapless people, whose ability to take rational decisions will increasingly fail. It will also breed family and social unrest. And all this will make the state monopoly to thrive. And the deadlock will be perpetual.

Kashmir and jugaad

Delhi Common Wealth Games, 2010 have taught us many things. Leave aside the debate on the relativity of the idea of hygiene and the corruption charges; one thing is clear: that India’s peculiar way of doing things – so eloquently and fondly called jugaad – is alive and works even today.


Arjimand Hussain Talib


Most of the world is dumb-struck. A week before the games started, there were few optimists outside the Games’ Organising Committee who believed that the games would be possible at all. For a moment, ignore the goof up, the international humiliation and the unrelenting bad press about the messy day-to-day affairs at the games, the fact is that the games are on. That is what makes jugaad wonderful – and, obviously, beyond the comprehension of a common westerner, who loves to be driven by a definite idea of the goal and the outcome, a set process, precision and attention to detail.
Writing in The Times of India on October 3 in “In defence of Jugaad” Santosh Desai writes, “Jugaad is the name we give to our subversive disdain for reality; we could change its name if it offends us but it would be a shame if we were to lose this unique ability to see the world in a distinctive way.”

So jugaad a civilisational attribute, so to say, which, if talked about by foreigners, may even border racism. In local parlance its negative characteristics are often shrugged off with two cold words – chalta hai.

Jugaad – if we reflect – somehow best explains how Kashmir has been ruled and managed post 1947. This tool explains the micro management of Kashmir’s political and security affairs from New Delhi despite the occasional appearance of ‘democratically-elected’ governments in Srinagar. This tool may also explain the announcement of 8 ‘concessions’ by New Delhi last month, which constitutional pundits say should have ideally been done by Srinagar, as the issues fall easily within the latter’s jurisdiction.

Jugaad basically doesn’t care for protocols or systems. It doesn’t mind political micro management either. It is like being beyond and above everything. So when chief minister Omar Abdullah spoke his heart out in the State Assembly on Wednesday, calling the state’s relationship with the union of India a conditional accession and not a merger, a state of denial persists. Jugaad isn’t comfortable with shocks. That is the reason, we learn now, additional Union Home Secretary, K Sikandan arrived in Srinagar on Saturday to get a CD of Omar’s speech.

Now take the post-APD visit initiative of the appointment of a possible interlocutor by New Delhi on Kashmir. The very terms of reference of such interlocutors seeking engagement with ‘all shades of opinion’ – bypassing basic democratic principles – is nothing but jugaad. The point is: is New Delhi really unaware about the demands and the bottom line of these ‘shades of opinions’?

Let us do not go much into history. Spare me for any dementia issues here, post 90s we have had so many of these interlocutors, emissaries, committees and delegations visiting Kashmir and trying to understand what people actually want here. We have had Ram Jethmalani, the present Governor N. N. Vohra, K. C. Pant, C. Rangarajan, Wajahat Habibullah, O. P. Shah, A. S. Dullat, Justice (Retd.) Sagheer Ahmed, and the recent All Party Parliamentary Delegation (APD). All did the same job. Why start afresh?

The problem, as ever, one need to acknowledge, is with the format and the goals of such exercises. As an example, consider the present Governor N N Vohra’s visit to Kashmir in 2003. As per official records, Mr. Vohra met 36 ‘leaders’ of various political parties/groups and 183 individuals and representatives of various organizations at Srinagar’s Circuit House during nine days. The meeting statistics of the recent APD may be hardly different. And now when a new interlocutor will come, can one expect a different format?

The policy of engaging with minority groups, NGOs, trusts, ‘civil society groups’, student teams, mohalla and village welfare committees and so on of fringe nature has never worked on Kashmir. Tiny minorities cannot help alter any political process because they are disproportionate to the realities on the ground in the real world.

If that were so, 63 years is a very long time to manage a conflict. Seeking to create a psychological condition of diversity of opinion will never work on Kashmir. There is no substitute for a political engagement with the real stakeholders.

It is not that New Delhi needs a fact finding mission every year to understand the mass pulse in Kashmir. Union Home Secretary G.K. Pillai in an interview to the latest issue of The Week reflects that when he says, “Though we spend 10,000 crore a year [on Kashmir], you have not been able to win hearts and minds. It is not just development. There are roads; the rail link is coming. [But] we have not been able to reach out to people much. Maybe [we have been] reaching out to the government. There is a subtle difference.”

Then there are hard line voices like that of Shankar Roychowdhury, former Chief of Army Staff. In an article “Reclaiming Kashmir” on October 5 in Deccan Chronicle he writes, “… those in government surely realise that no amount of “Red Cross parcels” are going to win hearts and minds. How much more is the government prepared to concede to “win the unwinnable” in terms of hearts and minds in the Valley…?”
But then there are other realities, which parties like the Hurriyat and Islamabad need to acknowledge as well. A dialogue initiated by New Delhi, like the process of demilitarization in Kashmir, cannot be a one-way affair. There will have to be matching steps of confidence building by New Delhi and Islamabad for a forward movement.

For instance, New Delhi will find it impossible to initiate demilitarization unilaterally without similar steps by Islamabad in its administered part of Kashmir and guarantees by the state and non-state actors on that side that there will be no military campaigns on this side. That is where engagement with Islamabad becomes an inevitable necessity.

And no amount of jugaad can help skirt that.

Kashmir and Ayodhya

New Delhi can capitalise on an environment of compromise

Arjimand Hussain Talib

There is a sixth century fable which tells about a boy playing in the fields, and who got stung by a nettle. The boy ran home to his mother, telling her that he had just touched that nasty weed, and it had stung him.

“It was just your touching it my boy,” said the mother, “that caused it to sting you; the next time you meddle with a nettle, grasp it tightly, and it will do you no hurt.”

There is a key lesson in this story on why embracing a new approach on Kashmir by New Delhi and Islamabad may not be as catastrophic as made to be. Something very significant happened at the end of the week. There are some real openings for hope.

The Allahabad High Court’s verdict on the Babri Masjid demolition case is arguably far from perfect. But the response from Indian masses has been unexpectedly mature – belying the apprehensions about mass unrest.

There is a viewpoint that the reason there was no unrest is because the verdict has been interpreted as being overly favorable to the majority Hindu community. But this viewpoint is questionable. Both the parties to the dispute have already said that they are dissatisfied with the verdict, and, hence, will appeal before the Supreme Court.

The fact is that despite the differing perceptions, the overwhelming public opinion is that of accommodation. There were no mass celebrations or expressions of disquiet from any side. Indian intellectuals are saying that the reason for this attitude is that India has actually come a long way since 1992. The generation that was believed to be driven by religious jingoism and passion seems to have really been subdued by the new culture of accommodation and tolerance. India, there is a widely-held belief, has changed.

One of the classic responses to the verdict was heard from Indian Supreme Court’s leading lawyer Rajeev Dhawan, who called the Allahabad High Court’s verdict as a “Panchayati style justice.” He opined that he saw the verdict based on a compromise solution rather than basic principles of natural justice. Even as he argues that the legal process on the case was supposed to establish the ownership of the land in dispute, and not go beyond the standard legal practice, he acknowledges the decision as “consensual.”

Then there are other viewpoints, which are besides the point here. One being that the verdict is patently unjust with Muslims. Two, that despite the court granting possession rights to the Muslim Waqf Board over one third of the land, in practice the land will be actually used by the Hindus.

There is another opinion which believes that the matters of faith cannot be subject to legal scrutiny and analysis. And that religious beliefs are beyond the worldly legal considerations of proof and legal logic.

People are entitled to have their own opinions, but the point here to make is different. The environment of peaceful consideration of the judgment in India – if not its complete acceptance - makes a strong case for an out-of-box thinking on Kashmir today.

There are always people who have been propounding doomsday scenarios in case New Delhi chooses to think beyond that traditional ‘box.’ The theories surrounding that doomsday scenario may well be a myth if the response to an extremely sensitive issue like the Babri Masjid verdict is anything to go by.

There are compelling reasons why thinking out of the box is a dire necessity today.

The happenings since 2008 in Kashmir in general and those since June 11 this year in particular have changed many things. The gulf between an average Kashmir and the Indian state has deepened considerably. For India, the biggest matter of worry must be the estrangement of Kashmir’s ‘generation next’, whose thinking has gone even beyond what their elders have nursed.

It is very much within the hard and soft power of the Indian state to manage the brewing alienation and unrest in Kashmir. But it needs to come in terms with the reality that it cannot resolve this issue as such. It will always have a crowd available in Kashmir which provides its rule a critical mass necessary to keep things going, but it is unlikely that it will be able to create a respectable acceptance and legitimacy to its current brand of rule in Kashmir.

Then there is the external image factor. India – despite its oft-talked about vices of mass deprivation, caste system and alienated poor communities – is seen as one of the emerging global economic powers, if not a political or military one. It is mostly respected for its democracy and a political culture which are not to be found everywhere. But Kashmir dents its image of being a land of Gandhi and Buddha.

And look how far people are going about this country. An article in Jerusalem Post “Why isn’t India a pariah state?” by Rob Brown on 19 September explains that. Rob wrote “But what the world is never told by The New York Times, nor by most other supposedly liberal organs, is that New Delhi’s response to such civil disobedience has been far more savage and brutal than anything authorized in Jerusalem or Tel Aviv, leading in the past to serious armed insurrection (often incited by Pakistan).”

And then there are pragmatic Indians themselves. Consider this thought from a recent essay by Pankaj Mishra, “The killing fields of Kashmir dwarf those of Palestine and Tibet. In addition to the everyday regime of arbitrary arrests, curfews, raids and checkpoints enforced by nearly 700,000 Indian soldiers, the valley’s 4 million Muslims are exposed to extrajudicial execution, rape and torture, with such barbaric variations as live electric wires inserted into the p----.”

So let the nettle be held firmly. And sure nothing is going to happen.