It was like Rip Van Winkle waking from a long slumber. Srinagar, my hometown, to which I had returned after twenty years, had changed beyond recognition. Horse-driven tongas had given way to hordes of minibuses and Matadors and trusted Ambassadors and Fiats to speeding Zens, Sumos and Safaris. The green Boulevard Road along the picturesque Dal Lake had turned into a concrete jungle, apparently the gift of a tourism boom in the Eighties.
I inquired about the countless white Gypsies like tin boxes, with rifle-muzzles jutting out of two small window apertures. I was told they were carrying policemen on patrol duty, the legacy of almost a decade of militancy.
Helmeted, AK47-toting paramilitary jawans in twos and threes every 20 metres confirmed that the once-quiet city had been subjected to the worst kind of violence by the troops and armed insurgents. Other signs of battles fought or perhaps still raging: Army bunkers with netting, public transport also with netting, the sight of people being frisked,gutted houses and shopping arcades and the `Martyrs’ Graveyards’ at Eidgah (with 2,000 graves), Khanyar, Abi Guzar, Soura and Nishat.
Death of innocence: Gone was the refreshing smile on the ever-youthful faces of the Kashmiris. Instead, I saw tension writ large. The trauma of the bloody turmoil, the loss of kith and kin caught in the crossfire, the years of fear and uncertainty ahead. The unemployed walk the streets aimlessly; the rest have no salary to take home. All this when a popularly elected government is in the saddle. A measure of the so-called normalcy is that Srinagar’s streets, which would be all of a bustle well into the night, are now deserted after 8 pm. The only sign of life is either a rifle-toting security jawan or the crew of a tin Gypsy. When personal security became the first priority, the first victim was Srinagar’s social life.
City of migrants: Sparsely-populated Srinagar has gained in numbers from internal migrations out of the downtown areas, triggered by the onslaught of bothmilitants and troops. The city also opened its arms to largescale migrations from far-flung villages. But where were these people to go? When they found relatives slamming the door in their faces, their only option was the gutted, empty houses of Kashmiri Pandits, which stand between every two or three Muslim homes. The city is like a garden in bloom interspersed with withered patches. Abandoned for long, some Pandit houses serve as garbage dumps and have trees growing out of the fallen roofs.
The vacuum created by the mass exodus of an entire community left the education system orphaned. Parents paid hefty donations for a medical or engineering seat outside the state. Mass copying and the use of `help’ books ensured almost cent per cent results in exams. The literacy rate doubled and efficiency halved in a city of mushrooming private schools and technical institutions. However, a government anti-copying campaign set the disparity right: 10 to 15 per cent now pass the exams.
Cosmetic efforts: During thebad years, the very face of the city was disfigured by land-grabbers, shopkeepers and the security forces, who dug themselves in. Boatmen on the Dal and the Jhelum tributaries of Tsoont Kol and Kuti Kol took over the riverbanks downtown. The Save Dal campaign started only after the lake had shrunk dramatically. Congestion in a three-kilometre radius around Lal Chowk, Hari Singh High Street, Jehangir Chowk and Exhibition Crossing, which has most of the government offices and commercial establishments, was aided by an aborted flyover project.
The Multi-storeyed Plaza, upmarket restaurants and fast food joints, beauty parlours and a communications revolution are merely cosmetic improvements. Under the pancake, Srinagar is scarred by years of militancy.