Adarsh Ajit
The circumstances and surroundings leave their imprint on the literature all the time. With the eruption of militancy and the subsequent events followed by the mass exodus of Kashmiri Pandits, the role, format, contours and the content of the literature changed altogether. Instead of the scenic beauty of Kashmir, the murmuring waters, the flowery summers, tall popular trees standing high in dignity, the orioles, nightingales, which were the focus of literary creativity coupled with the warmth of love for the beloved, the blasts, gunfire, killings, atrocities and human rights found place in the writings of the valley, whereas the literature written in displacement, called Literature in Exile, is focussed towards tortures, hostile atmosphere, day-to-day problems, changed environment and, of course, the nostalgia which is going on unceasingly.
Prose writing in English in the shape of novels, memoirs and diaries attracted the focus of the publishers, media and as well as the literary critics. But it is very unfortunate that the writers lack the conviction to pen down their writings in an impartial way. Writers of the valley write about their own pain and the Kashmiri Pandit writers paint their own pain though all claim to be Kashmiris. To project the ‘self’ is natural but sometimes such writings seem a reaction. Almost writers have failed to project the pain of all Kashmiris as a whole and irrespective of the communities.
Tej N Dhar’s Under the Shadow of Militancy published in 2002 ruthlessly reflects the truthful events and the circumstances which were instrumental in enforcing the exodus of Pandits. In the book Sonajoo stresses the need for mutual togetherness of the two communities and tells Pandits that they need not fear for their lives. But Peer devastates his arguments and statements and destroys the theory of coexistences. He says that secularism is a hollow principle having no place in Islam and brands Pandits as kafirs having nothing common with the Muslims. ‘Peer’ is more truthful than feigned secularists.
Basharat Peer in his Curfewed Night published in 2008 writes, ‘And around sunset if they saw streaks of scarlet in the sky, they said, there has been a murder somewhere. When a man was killed, the sky turned red.’ But at the same time he comments that the worst torture, the prisoners think, was to make them say ‘Jai Hind’ every morning and every evening. Basharat while writing about interrogation centre Papa-2 says that the stories reveal that the prisoners defecated and urinated into polythene bags. He has dramatised the infamous Gaw Kadal episode saying that Gaw Kadal area is covered with bodies and blood. Farooq pretends to be dead. The officer sees him and says: ‘This bastard is alive’. If Basharat is dangerously honest in giving a vivid picture of Kashmir and the Kashmiris after 1990 but why he is miserly in narrating the atrocities committed by the militants on the Kashmiri Pandits. I wish Basharat, a well-read young man, had done justice to his book by his objectivity and neutrality. He has devoted just a couple of sentences to the exodus of Kashmiri Pandits__ a big tragedy in modern India___ whereas the identity checks by the Indian forces in Kashmir have been repeated to the level of boredom.
On this side of the tunnel Siddhartha Gigoo’s scenes in his novel The Garden of Solitude make the hair stand on end. But history cannot afford to forget to record how much water has flown down the bridge since the eruption of militancy. The sounds of guns in Kashmir have resulted in colossal wreck of Kashmiriat, a political ideology thrust on the people. Gigoo painfully paints an eight-year-old Kashmiri Muslim boy, who upon seeing a tilak on a Pandit woman’s forehead, tells his father Ali:
‘Abba, there is a drop of blood on aunty’s forehead.’
It portrays the end of a cultural bond, the widening gap and the death of Kashmir ethos.
And this gulf between Pandits and Muslims is confirmed by the hero of the novel Sridar when he goes to his ‘home’ due to the unbearable nostalgia. The elder daughter of the present house owner tells her mother about Sridar:
‘He is like us all. He is having cakes and tea the way we have it. What is this? Who are Pandits, mother?’ On many subjects Sidhartha has, behind the curtain, touched various sensitive issues but he too is not mercilessly bold to uncover them.
Mirza Waheed paints Captain Kadian as the ugliest person in The Collaborator. The novelist has firm grip on the Gujjar life. He is aware about LoC, no-man’s-land and the happenings on both sides of the border. But his plot revolves round Indian Army’s atrocities. But, yes, at the end the nameless protagonist (called the collaborator) is all tired–tired of the treachery of Pakistan, fed up with the Changezi attitude of India and Indian Army and tired of the non-seriousness of the Kashmiri leaders as he feels ‘Everyone carries a gun nowadays. Soldiers, militants, security men, policemen, informers, black cat commandos, counter insurgents, agents, bodyguards, thieves, guest-militants’. The Collaborator has so much aggression, protest and revolt that it crosses the level of lingual/cultural taste. Waheed’s another novel The Book of Gold Leaves published in 2014 depicts a Kashmiri Muslim family, having financial burden. Faiz , the protagonist, has three sisters, three brothers, and other members and his mother Mouj.
‘Tomorrow will be their last night at Little Pari Mahal, Roohi’s name for the hut in memory of her favourite haunt overlooking the, Dal Lake, the real Pari Mahal, barricaded and visitor-less now, except for the uniformed ones, before they head back to the city, to a life of uncertainty and waitring, a life of everyday dislocation, but a life together nonetheless, as wife and husband’.
Afsana Rashid’s Widows and Half-Widows published by Pharos Media focuses on disappearances of many Kashmiris:
‘Disappearance of their son has turned Bakhti’s husband into a heart patient. She herself has a kidney problem but memories of their son are more painful’.
It is the saga of extra-judicial arrests & killings in Kashmir, missing of daughters, mothers, sisters and wives causing suffering to the women, in absence of their men who disappeared. Under these circumstances the women even having their husbands are like half widows. This book is virtually a journalistic endeavour of compiling a data. At the same time why Afsana Rashid fails to narrate the stories of Kashmiri Pandit women who were sawed on the saw, butchered and raped? Why she has omitted husbands of Kashmiri Pandits killed in gruesome manner?
Rahul Pandita’s Moon Has Blood Clots published in 2013 by Random House is a memoir. He is convinced that even Kashmiri majority community took part in the ethnic cleansing of Kashmiri Pandits. He has given many examples also where members of the community were killed. Pandita compares killing of Pandits and the condition of affected Pandits is not less shocking than what happened in Bosnia. He also denies calling his present residence outside his homeland a home but a house.
“It was a beautiful life which we had in Kashmir; it’s all lost now. It’s lost for every Kashmiri,” says Pandita`
Writing about the rights of 1986 Rahu Pandita says:
‘Whatever the reasons, the Pandits became the target. Houses were looted and burnt down, men beaten up, women raped and dozens of temples destroyed.’ Okay fine, but there is no record that any Kashmiri Pandit woman was raped in 1986. In fact, no Kashmiri Pandit woman was raped in 1986.
It is okay when someone highlights his personal or his community’s woes, tragedies and difficulties, etc. but today the writings need impartiality even if they are novels, diaries or memoirs. It needs a genuine post-mortem. We have yet to see Kashmiri Pandit writers highlighting atrocities on Kashmiri Muslims by militants or administration. There are no writings of Kashmiri Muslims on the biggest tragedy of modern world ….the exodus of Kashmiri Pandits and its causes.
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