India8217;s dying limb

To make matters worse, ever since the release of the Hurriyat leaders, raising the prospect of a dialogue with the government, there has been a decided spurt in armed militancy as well as state repression in the Valley. Militant groups increasingly under the thumb of foreign mercenaries have lost no time in intensifying their terror campaign. Hardly a day goes by without grenades being chucked at government buildings, security patrols or the state legislature in Srinagar. The damage caused is often minimal, but the shadow of the gun looms over the city larger than ever before.

By a curious coincidence, allegations of atrocities by security forces on innocent people in the Valley are mounting. It is mystifying how the recent shooting of six youths in Sopore, mistaken for militants from across the border, was allowed to happen at a time when the government was trying to talk peace with insurgent groups. Already scared of being dubbed as collaborators, the released Hurriyat leaders have responded to these incidents with redoubled hysteria. The usual recriminations of betrayal by New Delhi are being touted every day and last month8217;s 36-hour, Hurriyat-sponsored hartal across the Valley in protest against custodial deaths has made a mockery of the government8217;s gesture to release its leaders.

Moreover, the Farooq Abdullah government8217;s open suspicion about the Centre8217;s move on Kashmir has not exactly helped to create an atmosphere of reconciliation. There is a cussed glee among the Chief Minister and his aides at the growing hostility between the Hurriyat and New Delhi. On the surface, Farooq feigns nonchalance at the possibility of a revived Hurriyat. But, privately, he is livid at the attempt by the Vajpayee government to resurrect a rival political force in the Valley which he sees as a vote of no-confidence in him by the Centre. With state assembly elections round the corner, Kashmir8217;s badshah would like nothing better than the peace initiative to fail and the Hurriyat leaders to be put behind the bars.

Meanwhile, even as this political farce is being played out, a bit of Kashmir dies every day. Its capital, Srinagar, lies battered and broken after a decade of armed militancy and counter-insurgency operations by the state apparatus. The debates that resounded in cafes and street-corners in the past have been replaced with sullen silence. There is also little evidence of the insurrectionary zeal and dreams of instant azadi that marked the beginning of armed militancy in the early nineties. People are no longer ready to trust anyone New Delhi, Pakistan, the international community, even their own leaders.

The public apathy towards the insurgency may have provided fertile ground for the introduction of more mainstream politics in the region. But, unfortunately, the waning of mass support for militancy has been accompanied by an acute distaste for politics of any variety as well as a crushing loss of self-confidence. The collective trauma of the people is particularly evident in the youth. Psychotic disorders and the suicide rate in the younger generation are jumping alarmingly. So are juvenile crimes, virtually unknown before in the Valley. Above all is the constant dread of being sucked unwittingly into the relentless cycle of violence that is as unpredictable as it is pointless.

Nothing illustrates this better than the mysterious case of 18-year-old Affaq Ahmed Shah, a Class XII student who achieved dubious fame last April by becoming Srinagar8217;s first suicide bomber. Till three weeks before the bombing, Affaq was known to his parents, teachers and friends as a quiet, studious and religious boy least interested in politics. He dreamed of being a doctor and fondly posed for photographs in white coat and stethoscope even before passing out of school. His parents, retired lecturer Mohammed Yusuf and school teacher Halima, troubled at the deepening turmoil in Srinagar, were keen that the boy leave the city and had actually fixed him up with a job in a Mumbai carpet shop. Yet, on the eve of his departure with his bag all packed, Affaq suddenly disappeared. Some three weeks later, he was blown to bits while ramming a car full of explosives into the army barracks.

Today, the parents weep uncontrollably over not merely the loss of their son but the inexplicable circumstances of his death. A new militant group, Joshe-e-Muhammadi, has hailed him as a martyr claiming him as its member. The police, however, are debating if it was a genuine suicide bombing or the bombs in the car were detonated by remote control without the boy8217;s knowledge. The fact is that he is dead and nobody really knows why.

Ultimately, it is the human face of the tragedy of Sringar and elsewhere in the Kashmir Valley that matters. Constitutional proprieties, Pakistan8217;s perfidy, the Centre8217;s bungles, Farooq8217;s follies, the Hurriyat8217;s carping, international machinations these are all roadblocks on the way to a solution for Kashmir. But the central issue today in the Valley is the loss of the people8217;s faith in not only everyone else but even themselves.

The problem is compounded by the present national mood which wants quick results in Kashmir and is clearly impatient with talk about the bruised psyche of its people. At a seminar in New Delhi last month, speakers talking about the growing alienation in the Valley were rudely interrupted by angry members of the audience who demanded that the discussion be conducted within the framework of the Constitution. After Pakistan8217;s betrayal in Kargil and the Indian Airlines hijacking, this is not exactly the best time to persuade the rest of the country about the need to nurse back to life a dying limb of the nation.

Yet, if Indian democracy is to be justifiably proud of its otherwise remarkable achievements, it cannot afford to ignore the failure to involve the people of the Valley in the national mainstream. Regardless of the fate of the present peace initiative, efforts must continue to remove this darkening stain, even if only on a corner of the national map, before it gets too late.

The writer is a senior journalist and author