Kavita Chhibber - December 18, 2005
I sit here staring at a picture a friend forwarded me..an open field, a tank and Afghan men with guns, their faces as hard as the steel they hold. It’s strange how a small picture, a few words can trigger off so many memories..
Many years ago a young girl would constantly be enchanted by Rabindranath Tagore’s short story The Kabuli wallah. It was the story of an Afghan street vendor who keeps seeing his own daughter in a five year old girl called Minnie. He sells dry fruits in Calcutta, to make enough money and go back home to Afghanistan. He is arrested for a murder and jailed. Many years later on his release, lost in the abyss of a jail cell, his life frozen in time, he goes to look for little Minnie, only to realize his little Minnie is being married that day. Time didn’t stand still for him or Minnie or his daughter who he had left behind.
A few years later, one December morning, the same young girl was aboard her first flight to a foreign country. The flight was only 2 hours long but she was excited because she was going to the land of the Kabuli Wallah.
A week later, she sat out side one night, the red barren mountains of Kabul glistening with heavy snow in the moonlight, her own knees sinking into the freshly strewn white powder, as she dug a hole to put a stainless steel container full of sweetened milk, “to make ice-cream,” she told her mother.
I still remember waking up the next morning, gleefully digging out the container and eating chunks of that frozen milk with joy.
My father did a three year stint in Afghanistan as military attaché. I remember living in a diplomatic enclave of Kabul, a city as modern as any capital of the world. The Afghans would import every thing, and export dry fruits and carpets in exchange.
My mom who has a knack for picking up languages spoke fluent Farsi(Persian) within a few months, while my dad spent three years trying to learn the grammar, and speak Farsi the “ right way”. In the end he would always seek my mom’s assistance to be his interpreter. I remember going on school trips and treks in the mountains, with my class mates, to all the historic places, stroking the Buddha statues, picnicking near the grave of Mahmud Ghazni, making life long friends.
Captain Rahim, a tall handsome man married to the niece of the then President of the country, his two sons. It comes back… those memories of shared love and laughter. They were very close to my parents and we met them frequently.
The destruction of the Afghanistan I knew began soon after we returned. My parents lost touch with many of their Afghan friends. There were murmurs of murder and mayhem, and then one day Captain Rahim came to visit. His wife and sons had been murdered brutally. He had escaped to Pakistan and now was a Taliban. The tears had been replaced by a darkness of vengeance, the warm heart solidified into an iceberg of hatred, but somewhere a flicker of love for my parents still remained and he came to seek refuge for a few hours in that love, the warm embraces as I tried to recognize the man whose tall and muscular frame had emanated solidity and invincibility for a little girl. I’m still haunted by the large velvet eyes and apple cheeks of two young boys lost so long ago in the flood of political hatred.
We never saw him again.
As a teenager I went back to Kabul. Every evening there was a curfew and no one could step out. The quiet stillness of the night would be shattered by gunfire. The large sports field, whose picture I sit staring at today, was called Kabul stadium where many schools, including mine held their annual sports day. Many festivals were held there. The same stadium became a killing field from the 1990s. I was told that at night corpses were dumped there and then disposed off later during curfew hours.
I never went back to Kabul again.
Reading Rahul’s beautiful stories, my memories of Jammu and Kashmir emerge from their cocoon. I was born in Jammu and grew up in a time when life was filled with scents of jasmine and gardenia, taste of sun kissed, freshly plucked fruit straight from the trees, laughter, my grandmother’s hugs and love for humanity. Days of mischief, when I would hide on the top of our home with my friends and we would bring down any kite that flew over, or dangling a hook and lifting caps off people’s heads and then hiding behind my grandmother as she pacified the irate neighbors, returning a kite or a cap. It was all pretence, because the people, we kids bugged were our extended family.
Unlike today when parents tell their kids no one is trustworthy, until we know for sure, we would eat at one neighbor’s house and sleep at another neighbor’s. My cousin and I would walk at 10.30 p.m. at night on Palace road and through narrow lanes to visit my mom’s cousin and no one escorted us. I was 7 or 8 years old then. Jammu was a city with wide sprawling lanes, where people celebrated all festivals with love-the Hindu priest and the Muslim priest heralded the day with the sounds of Allah –hu akbar, and bhajans(hymns) simultaneously on a loud speaker, at 5 a.m.
The Jammu I grew up in was a land of adventure and love through the summer holidays. Waking up in the mornings before sun rise, all the cousins converging at my grand mother’s house, packing a sumptuous breakfast of aloo parathas(potato filled flour pancakes) and mangoes and walking a couple of miles for a swim in the river Tawi with my grand mother and uncle keeping close watch. The river itself was a strange kaleidoscope of beauty and eerie mystery. On one side was the area filled with swimmers of all ages, and beyond, underneath the looming remnants of a royal Palace the river took a sinister turn.
“ Don’t go there,” , my grand mother would say, “they do voodoo and perform black magic and will take you away.” One day my curiosity got the better of me and I dragged my reluctant best friend Ravinder, to come with me to the “other side”. We reached there and saw bloody red powder, some strange writings and a couple of skulls and bones..I turned and ran-I think if I had been of age to participate in the Olympics, India would have won its first gold medal in athletics. Luckily grand mother had been busy with the other cousins and didn’t notice our flushed faces and horrified expressions. My friend had nightmares for a few days. I was made of tougher stuff and would sneak up every day to the woman who came to wash our clothes, and ask her what was happening “on the other side” of the river. She in turn regaled me with stories of ghosts and jinns in hushed whispers.
We would also walk our way to a religious hot spot “Vaishno Devi,” the home of the goddess who fulfills all wishes. The roads in those days were treacherous and hilly. There were ravines on one side; stories of people falling to their death as well as some saved miraculously by the goddess would float around. We would listen wide eyed to each new story every time we made a return trip. A narrow hole through which people had to go in and come out from the other side, was a stony testimonial to how good you were. Our grand mother would say.. “Now only if you are good will you be able to wriggle through the hole. Many fat women and men went through but if there was some one who had been mean, no matter how skinny they were, they would get stuck and had to beg forgiveness and wriggle back.” Needless to say all of us were at our best behavior for the days prior to the trip. As soon as we wriggled out of the hole, the punching and shoving would start.
The entire route was so beautiful- shiny cobbled stones, the path edged with beautiful flowers, trees laden with fruit, and us sinking our bare feet in the water snaking past in streams, munching on a snack bought from the traveling vendors all through the route.
Today when I go home I see a Jammu, choking and stifled by bomb blasts and terrorism on the main highway, a heart broken Kashmiri community struggling to put together the pieces of their shattered lives. I’m all grown up but my dad gets mad if my brother brings me home after 9 p.m., because it is not safe. Those by lanes of my childhood are no longer accessible for me. Two bombs have exploded in my brother’s office, seriously injuring his staff. He was luckily not there, but it doesn’t lessen the sorrow. The land of the Goddess is now no longer under her power but the jurisdiction of the local police. Those exciting hilly paths of my childhood have been razed into a concrete street you can drive your car on. Gone with the razed hills are the tales of my wide eyed imagination.
Kashmir..the valley of flowers..of lush chinar trees, of Dal Lake, and royal architecture, where my grandfather would rent a house boat and mom and her many friends would live in that boat through the summer. All my childhood years were spent away from Kashmir. I preferred spending my summer vacations with my grandmother and my cousins who converged to her home every summer.
I finally went there, a few months short of my 18th birthday when my father was posted there. We were driven at night so we could not see what Kashmir had become, and taken to Rampur, a sensitive military area that was out of bounds for civilians. It was untouched by terrorism and I had my first taste of the beauty of the valley at its richest. I would wake up in the morning, sit in front of our home, a beautiful wooden 2 bedroom cottage, surrounded by gorgeous flowers of all shades and sip my hot chocolate as the sun rose, over the tall trees, on the mountains. The river Jhelum, looking like a silver snake weaved its way below me and my mother’s stories of Kashmir being a heaven on earth came alive before my eyes each morning. My dad made my birthday a memorable one and spent a fortune having my favorite ice cream flown in from Kashmir. If only all my memories of Kashmir remained as sweet.
Today when I go home and my brother says come spend a few days in Kashmir with me, I know it means going for walks with armed guards, being stuck inside the house most of the time, and I refuse. Today the Kashmir of my dreams blossoms only in old Indian films shot in the valley and my mother’s golden stories.
I look again at the picture, and memories of Afghan men dancing on the streets of Kabul, playing the mandolin, apple cheeked little boys running from the hill their kites flying behind them during the season when kites colored the sky in many hues, come rushing back. So much has changed-from Kabul to Kashmir.
I realize today how important it is to live with love and in the present moment, because tomorrow may not be the same color as your yesterday.
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Posted by Kavita Chhibber at December 18, 2005 01:55 PM
Kavita,
Nice childhood recollection!
The wonderful, awe-inspiring (and sometimes imposing) memories of our impressionble, receptive, innocent early childhood almost always seem to be quite different (and, occasionally, disappointing) when we are all grown up.
When violent and (sometimes preventable) catastrophic events take place, they, invariably, alter the composition and beauty of the landscape while tarnishing and robbing us of those cherished memories of the halcyon days of our childhood.
But why is the human species so wantonly callous in its disregard for Nature's pristine, unspoiled beauty? Why do we care so little about the horror we inflict on innocent, unwitting parties (victims) in our quest to achieve our selfish goals? In the end, it's all for nought because we will leave the world the same way we entered it: empty-handed!
Is must be highly frustrating and heartbreaking to those who readily acknowledge life'e ephemerality (and man's fleeting moment in time) and the relative importance to seize the opportunity (carpe diem) to celebrate and not waste it. Power and greed, as well as evil opportunity, often blind some to this reality.
The happy childhood memories of love and friendship are priceless. But for many children all over the world, pain and tragedy often replace halcyon (happy) and carefree days.
Kavita, thank you for sharing your story!
Love, Ron.
Dear Ron,
Must this be - as you say, these unwitting actions, which do seem to cause hurt and destroy the beauty of Nature and of each other, and ourselves.
You have asked the perennial question - one I wonder and reflect on - why must it be this Way?
Carpe diem - to 'live and love in the present moment' - is the solution. Even as I ponder the why.
Love to you,
and your precious children
~ Kate
Kate,
Thank you, dear! You are always so positive!
Love, Ron.
very beautiful express...life is a continuum of cause and effect...which in turn becomes a cause again..and so on....snapshots of horror we see have their own evolution in consciousness..we cannot wish them away...healing is the nature of creation in all its myriad ways...we may tend to interpret it from our limited perspectives...we too are a process within the process...
Hi Kavita,beautiful story. Last september we went to Vaisno Devi.I absolutely loved the chanting as we were going up and coming down the 14 KM hill.(Jor se bolo JAI MATHADI,aanewale JAI MATHADI, jaanewale JAI MATHADI).It is so beautiful,so steep, so crowded.As we were waiting to get in the line to get to the temple, my mother got separated from us.We were looking everywhere. When we found her, I promptly tied my palloo(of my sari)to her palloo, so she would not get lost again. I felt like I was the mother and she was the child.The darshan was beautiful but very short.So many people,such a small narrow area to go through.
I love THE DIVINE in the form of Mother Goddess. I also saw so many Durga mata temples in Jammu and Khatar.I agree with you that Jammu is a beautiful place.
God bless you. Take care.
Aloha Kavita
I wonder if any child has a chldhood? Be gentle and love self for you have gone where angels fear to go. I am so grateful you are Present. love patty
Dear Kavita; you have taken me to a place I'd never been; and I feel your very apparant disappointment, and shattered visions of your beloved home of memories, long gone by; yet, so fresh in the heart and mind which house's them tenderly keeping flames lit.
I sit here in my apartment just now; struggling with how I would feel; if my beloved town, so laden with forestry and heavy with snow were to suddenly become a war-zone, and destroyed;
I would feel like you too; and I too, would weep.
I am so sorry; this kind of things have to happen in the world; and moreso, I am so sorry; it touched your life Kavita; and the lives of so many others; whom feel/yearn for their old beloved home.
I did not have the life you did in childhood; but, I felt your perfumed one's for a moment; and it was so good.
Kavita, thank you; for taking me down your memory lane.
North
Kavita,
"The river Jhelum, looking like a silver snake weaved its way below me and my mother’s stories of Kashmir being a heaven on earth came alive before my eyes each morning," you describe.
Siver snake! Love it!
AJ.
PS: May peace pervade the earth!
Thank you, Kavita.
Love, Kristin
Dear Kavita
Thanks for that beautiful story. Your description of Jammu reminded me of the old days, when we would visit Jammu in winters for a month or so - from the valley. We used to stay either in the Dak Bungalow or in a nice hotel near Jewel Chowk. It was a Jammu poignantly described by Padma Sachdev in her book - Jammu jo kabhi shehar tha.
But now - everything has lost its character. Everything. Jammu looks like Ludhiana (no offence meant)now. And Kashmir (valley) like that football field in Afghanistan.
I would be grateful, if you could share more stories of Jammu with us. Your childhood stories... the people... the times. Like Padma Sachdev's character Suggi Nain. (Suggi - the barber's wife)
Hi Kavita,
The loss of days gone by is hearbreaking but to know that there is no hope ever to visit the places you grew up in, or had your most cherished memories associated with, is devastating. It feels , as if your personal treasures have been wrenched away. That is the feeling your post stirred up.
I had been to ksmir when I was 4. Surprisingly, the slopes of and their polite gulmurg, chinar trees, our houseboat, Yakhnee(mutton soup),the kashmiris with their rosy cheeks and sweet-as-honey manner of speaking, all are as vivid. Perhaps,nature blessed me with memories knowing that I may not see it again as "the heaven on earth' it truly was.
So many things to grieve for, as many reasons to live for.
thanks
typo.
please read as 'kashmir' and 'slopes of gulmurg'. My laptop needs disciplining.
sowweee(I love tweety bird)
Kavita,
So many stories told in one peace and in such a lively, unassuming way.
I have travelled with you from Kabul to Kashmir to Jammu...
I have been to Kashmir a couple of times prior to the beginning of terrorism and I have enjoyed it to my heart's content.
Once we were six of a kind, we were on an open jeep, we vowed that we would have only dry drinks (without adding water)and that too straight from the bottles, and will eat only green chillies with it, then we got drunk...we began circling Gulmarg's ground again and again and again...singing, dancing on the jeep, with loud music...we were on cloud nine as they say...after some time somebody complained to the police...police arrived and began to question us...from somewhere appeared a Sikh Military Oficer of apparently high Rank I have forgotten now..he said these young men have done nothing wrong...I have been here all the time they have been singing and dancing.. they are doing just what a tourist spot is for...they are just enjoying..they are rather making your place more atractive, more lovely..police have to let us go...then we moved on to higher place..there was snow all around...I got myself photographed in such a way...photographer lay at my feet and looked upwards at my body..my head seemed to be in the clouds...with my arms spread as if embracing the whole universe..
Harb.
Dear Kavita...Thoda sa jaldi mein hoon. Post leisurely padunga.
You guys are lucky to have childhood memories of that place. Kashmir tho Jannat hai!! I've never been to Kashmir saw it only in hindi movies. Vho ganna yaad aa raha hai....
Kithni Khubsurat ye tasveer hai...mausam bemissal be nazir hai...Ye Kashmir hai!!! One of my all time Favorite Romantic songs.
More later..Sachin
Thank you every one for your thoughts-Kate, Ron, AJ, Sundar,Kristin, Patty, North, and also Geeta, Kaveetaa and Harb for sharing your own Jammu and Kashmir with all of us.
Rahul, I will try and share more stories about my mother's jammu and kashmir and mine with you...my birth became as part of her story and went on to become mine..
Just looking at the picture of the afghans on a ground where I had basked in sunshine and so much positive energy, and your memories just brought back so much back, in bits and pieces like cotton candy clouds across the blue skies.
I hope and pray that all of us can make a phoenix rise from every mound of ash laden embers of hatred and destruction we see, that we live each present moment to the fullest in love and forgiveness, and that those halcyon days return..It's going to be hard..but it won't stop me from dreaming..
Thanks Sachin!
Dear Harb,
Did I hear correctly - is it your birthday? Well, I am singing the birthday song for you, dearest - and I hope across the miles and 'airwaves' you can hear.
So, tonight a toast to you! For all that you are, and to the deep sharing you bring to intent, your essence, your beingness.
And so the stirrings of memories, begun by Kavita..........
to mine, :)
one memory of my own to share.
On a summer's night at the lake, where I vacationed each summer with my family, I 'escaped' to the soft sand, and moonlight's glow, and I lay down in the sand, and like the angel's form in snow, I spread my arms. I embraced the earth, and drinking in the stars and far places in my imagination, I travelled, and reveled in the freedom.
Love to you,
~ Kate
Beautifully written memoirs. Makes me feel lucky that when I go back to my home, its still much the same as it was.
K, thank you!
Your BDay greetings had already reached me the time you wished them in your heart. Really something stirred within me and your name came to my mind loud and clear.
Harb
Hi Kavita,
Have resisted baring my Kashmiri memories on this forum for quite some time given you folks doing such a beautiful job of it! Let me give it a try now:
A few Glass beads:
Memories have a strange way of creeping up on you when you are least prepared, like the early morning snow after those dry gray cold days of Autumn in Kashmir. My autumn was always spent in Srinagar, as the days became shorter and people started deserting Kashmir for warmer Jammu. My valley was left alone for the chinar leaves, a gray sky and me. Often I would wear my duckback shoes, dress myself in multiple layers against the cold and start going up the Shankarachariya hill, I would stop at the point on the stairs where you could see the entire Dal Lake with its toy house boats and majestic hills at a distance. There, I would meditate and knowing that Vivekananda had perhaps meditated at the same place, I’d get goose pimples! My gaze would sweep across the expense from the serpentine Jhelum on my left, to Pari Mehal on my right; my mind was spread out in azure.
The walk down was actually a run, a flight, a soaring Johnathan Swift with duckback shoes! Even now, a few decades later, I still dream of that flight, a light hop off the rocks and a soft landing as I eye the roof of the Burn Hall School. I used to walk over to Shri Partap Museam Library and to the “elders section” where an elderly pious Muslim gentleman explained the allegory of “fever” in Tagore’s Geetanjali to me. I was a teenager with no friends, I was, as Naruda says, a soul clenched with sadness.
Kavita, I was born and brought up in Kashmir and spent 20 long winters there... I was the pink-cheeked urchin you may have seen in the streets of downtown (ZainaKadal) with a torn “pheran” (a kind of winter gown) and the plastic shoes. It was me who jumped into the Jhelum for you to click a nice photo of the river, Shah Hamadan sahib’s khankhah (Shah Hamadan brought Islam to Kashmir in the 13th century / a common shrine of Hindu’s and Muslim’s in downtown Kashmir) and the old wooden bridge itself.
I felt one with the streams, the river at Pahalgam, the snow covered slopes at Gulmarg and those endless Shikara (a small boat) rides in Dal Lake was my temporal expression! I studied at the banks of Dal Lake and during the month of Ramazan, we’d walk down to the Hazratbal Shrine to idle away our time as our Muslim friends prayed.
”You are going to ask: and where are the lilacs?
and the poppy-petalled metaphysics?
and the rain repeatedly spattering
its words and drilling them full
of apertures and birds?
I'll tell you all the news.” – Neruda
So, my friends, one fine day we left our home, the home where I learnt my roller skating in the lobby, where my mother planted those Marigolds and I tasted my first icicle. I read my first Russell (“on Education”!), Gorky, Tagore, Marquez and Tolstoy. Those where the heady days! I fell in love and rose in unrequited desire. I wrote those long love letters in verse and smeared a few pages with the white rose and my blood. We didn’t have red roses in winter and I was reading Oscar Wilde. Those were the days of greatest hope and that was the winter of despair – 1990. It was a very plain “Leave within 24 hours, you traitors – Area Command - Hizbul Mujahideen” note. It was very economical in its expression, unlike our valley, which was overabundant.
Malyiva Nagar is a quasi slum in the southern part of multiple extensions of Delhi. A small service lane led to a heavy blue door with no door bell as you could knock at the window to draw the resident’s attention any time. A dented can of coke served as an ashtray and we discussed Darwin’s missive on love and our own interpretations of the glass bead game of life. Hesse or Plato, Neruda or Marquez, Naipaul or our own free verse, we were spoilt for choices to get drunk on... till we discovered Van Gogh ( letters/Irving Stone/prints..everything!)... a new bible was found for us Dubliners..
So I submit to you, the jury, an incomplete defense of our lives, you, the honorable ones! Of powdered wigs, authorized to judge and condemn with the shiver of a quill.
The prosecution has asked us the question: Why do u live? Kashmiri Pandits in exile...in nauseam...
Honourable members, our case begs no mercy, but we beg understanding and warmth. It is not a cry for help nor a Abdul Gilanesque “Free Kashmir” slogan. Our split lives may have the iron of your warmth in our souls, as we bleed.... anywhere...
Thank you Rakesh, for sharing your Kashmir with us. You have also mentioned Oscar Wilde, Neruda, Tolstoy, three of my favorite writers..awesome.
The glass beads are enriched beyond enrichment by the embellishment of your words, and form a jewelled necklace of sweet memories. Kashmir once more becomes a land of halcyon days when an apple cheeked boy in a torn phiran and plastic shoes discovers new treasures of life each day.
I realize that the freedom is within us..I'm captivated by your words- and yet they set so many of us free from the barriers of painful memories of what was and might have been..if only for a few cyber moments.
thank you
India must not go back on its promise of accepting 2nation theory. World community should help Kashmiri ppls right of self-determination enshrined in UN resolutions. Free Kashmir is our cause and our struggle. Hindu army has destroyed our paradise homeland. And world stands by mouth watering with huge Indian market. justice & freedom for kashmir!
hold a plebiscite & u will see that majority wants freedom from indian occupation of our land. what indians dont want anyone else to know.
Indian Army/govt (not Hindu army) is as much responsible as Pakistani army/govt in destroying the beautiful Kashmir, don't be a hypocrite.
You are talking about peblicite, so do you want to divide the state of J & K into 3 parts Jammu, Kashmir and Ladakh. Because hindu majority jammu and buddhist majority Ladakh would want to go with India and there is outside chance that muslim majority Kashmir would decide to go with India. Kashmiris are suffering because there is no unity between kashmiri factions. First try to build consensus between different kashmiri factions, then you can fight for independence.
Lets assume that India agrees for a free independent kashmir, do you think the US and China would agree for that, they are very much certain that they wouldnt like another muslim country created in south asia.
Indian govt. doesnt want another partition of south asia on religious lines, as we have seen the bloodshed and suffering in 1947-48. The problem is between Kashmiris and Indian govt, but paskistan govt. has turned it into hindu-muslim conflict.
haha pak army isnt even in occupied kashmir. in azad kashmir pak army is welcomed for protection from attack.
it isnt another partition this is still incomplete issue from 1st partition. how can we end up under hindu dominated occupation when india said they accept 2nation theory, nehru even promised plebiscite which india never honoured.
this is not what india, us or china want. its about right of kashmiri ppl to live in their own free country as before occupation of india. us has advantages to free kashmir. we will welcome them to set up bases for their use & our protection from vulture countries around us.
Dear Rakesh; everyone - is there a free place on earth anymore? Can humans turn back time?
As long as there is need, there will be trade; it's in the trade-system that governments corrupt with greed, OR; lose power to their highest staff for the ungood.
It is my greatest wish too; as I peer out my window; the white sky, promising at least a foot of snow this week; the ice-cold air and picking up strong winds; promising a freezing chill.
IF it were all to become destroyed; such as your country; I would weep an ocean of tears, and spend too many moments revisiting the past; when it was unmarred by war's effects and forever altered, in state.
May the future provide freedom to all those, whom had to flee their homes. May it all be done in peace, with no blood further being shed.
Be United in Love.
North
abdul ji, I really don't know what to say about your out pouring. It obviously comes from a heavy heart. I think lets just pray that what is best for the Kasmiris happens. In the political games they are the ones who are suffering, and not any one's priority.
kavitaji thats why im saying plebiscite ho jaane do & truth will be for all to say what kashmiris really want
i have no doubt in my mind 100% that majority wishes freedom from indian occupation. indians like u should fight for the UN guaranteed & indian promised rights.
Dear Mr. Geelani,
Referendum is not the solution to Kashmir Problem, its not East Timor where an overwhelming 78.5% of the population had backed outright independence. All referendums held under the UN charter have had a majority supporting it, be it Quebec, East Timor or Eritrea.
I am with you lets go for a referendum. But believe you me you will be saddest person to see the outcome of it.
Don’t even dream in your wildest of fantasies that a majority in Kashmir will veto for a plebiscite.
The majority population of Jammu and Kashmir has exercised its right of national self-determination time and again by taking part in the national elections and electing their government for the last 58 years. So where is the question of plebiscite and United Nations.
The Kashmir problem is not what it you make it look like Geelani Sahib. People living in the 7% area are ruling over the 97%. People living in 7% have got 90% stake in the state government. This is largely on account on GOI policy of appeasement to minorities. And the deepest root of this problem is embedded in the religious sentiments. The most prosperous and developed part of J&K is the valley. How ironic is that only here in the most prosperous and developed part people are unsatisfied.
Mr.Gilani, as far as we are concerned, Partition happened in 1947. If you are interested in living in an Islamic country, there are already two countries created in the subcontinent for people like you. You are welcome to move there.
Kashmir meanwhile legally joined the Indian Union in 1948, and is a part of secular India now. The Constitution doesn't allow States the right to secession.
Also, I have a feeling that the Shias, Buddhists, Hindus and Sikhs of Kashmir very much prefer a secular India to the second-class citizenship they face in a Sunni-dominated Islamic Pakistan.
at believe me ill be happy whatever majority kashmiris decide. i know in my heart of hearts that most of us want freedom. referendum was promised by un & by india. they should just hold it & let all parties respect outcome.
arjun why should i go somewhere else when we have always lived here this is my land. who prefers what. let the plebiscite decide. also by your logic minorities in kashmir can move to secular india if they prefer instead of islamic land.
Geelani Sahib,
Don't see the entire valley as your alter ego.
You still haven't answered my question, last 58 years you have been exercising your right of national self determination. GOI gave you 58 years, 10 Muslim CM's and the majority of the cabniet, elected by the people of kahmir, who all swore by the constitution of India.
What more do you want to prove ?. That millions of Kashmiris who eulogiesd Sheri-e-Kashmir were mad or are mad
Dear Gilani sahab,
Kashmir is our shared homeland and I respect your viewpoint and sentiments. Part of my family is still in Srinagar-Kashmir and with God's grace are safe and doing well.
Last 15 years or so have seen a lot of bloodshed and it has been a continual pain for both residents of Kashmir and armed forces who serve there. You do know that Kashmiri ethos is not 700 years old, but predates it by thousands of years. Islam came to kashmir is 13th century and people readily embraced it. As a result we still have "shared" places of worship in most places (Khaniyaar, Reshpeer etc.). My point is that we need to start formulating the "Kashmir problem" in terms of our unique identity, isolation and finally political mess up, in that order!
From identity perspective, Gilani sahab, it is not a Muslim or a hindu issue (unless u happen to be a paid member of interest group), even now, my aunty visits AashMukaan every now to pray for peace. I know of many Muslims, who had a great respect for hindu shrines and our shared sufi traditions. Need I remind you of Nund Resh (Sheikh Nooruddin) and Lal Ded??
Now we come to the isolation bit: with hardly any interaction with the outside world, Kashmiris have traditionally been very closed community and have had a little inkling of changes happening all over the world. The xenophobia is a result of that isolation.
Third is the political mess: you know the facts, lies and in-between of all of it! You know that the living standard in Kashmir is 2nd best (after Chandigarh) in whole of India, not because people are very enterprising, but because government is flush with "appeasement" funds and corruption is rampant.
IMHO, the kashmir problem is an identity crisis, a problem of isolation and political mishandling by Kashmiris. I guess we need to wake up and educate ourselves for next few decades, breathe fresh air of globalization, nourish our traditions and not destroy them. Freedom is our choosing, let us educate our kids and hope they are not as blind as we were to elect blind leaders. Let's give "Kashmir problem" a break and open our minds to the world. Let us shut up and listen, for a change!
Gilani sahab, in closing this writeup, let me mention that you indeed are my big hope, at least you are reading this blog and hopefully would listen more than talk. Just look within yourself and make an honest assessment, what do you *really* want for our people. I, for one, want "azaadi" (freedom), freedom from dogma, freedom from manipulation of petty sloganeering masses, freedom to learn the magic of this natural world, freedom to make an honest living and freedom to access the world of information.
I know that world has been unfair to us, but we have been unfair to ourself for too long...
best regards
-rakesh mawa
p.s: Thanks North and Kavita for your kind words.
Bada Pyaara Likhthi Vho Kavita!! What I love the most abt your writings is....Sincere&Heartfelt! No showy or artificial business in it.
Yeah...That's life!! What you described in the thread "the change". I wudn't be surprised if the thread also goes into that state which the Beautiful Kashmir is suffering from.
Life goes in Cycles. Isn't it Kavita? Ek waqt tha jab Pyaar aur Aman ki khusboo lehrathi thi...aur ab ye waqt hai jab...well
But I believe a time will come again, maybe a decade, a few perhaps when that will Reappear. Maybe your Grandkids will enjoy the same with you being the grandmother:))) I'm just imagining how Dear Kavita may look when she becomes a grandmother. Very Gracious!!! Is what I See thru' my eyes. Maybe your grandkids wud enjoy exactly the same as you did with your grandmom...the only difference being I can't see anyone being more naughtier than you:)))Did I make you smile? You're such a Sport. Hai mere Bachpan ki Dost hothi tum?? Koi baath nahi abhi tho mili vho.
Joy&Love..Sachin
Mr, Abdul Geelani,
Practically talking whether u like it or not , no further division of India (and I repeat India{which includes Kashmir} ) is possible on religious lines , whether it has the support of majority or not as it will nullify all the values that modern India stands for.
All right thinking men+women know the only way to a good life is by being :-
a) truthful
b) honest
c) non-violent
d) compassionate
e) not being puppets in the hands of malacious people.
Why not lead a good life, beleive me it is more difficult , than pulling the trigger to siphon out life from unsuspecting people/victims.
Instigating is easy soothing and calming down people is difficult. Wy not try some of these things Mr. Geelani.
Shayad Khuda apko Jaanat ke darwaze pe jagah de de.
Amen
Ispita Saha
Mr Abdul Geelani,
Practically talking whether u like it or not , no further division of India (and I repeat India{which includes Kashmir} ) is possible on religious lines , whether it has the support of majority or not as it will nullify all the values that modern India stands for.
All right thinking men+women know the only way to a good life is by being :-
a) truthful
b) honest
c) non-violent
d) compassionate
e) not being puppets in the hands of malacious people.
Why not lead a good life, beleive me it is more difficult , than pulling the trigger to siphon out life from unsuspecting people/victims.
Instigating is easy soothing and calming down people is difficult. Wy not try some of these things Mr. Geelani.
Shayad Khuda apko Jaanat ke darwaze pe jagah de de.
Amen
Ispita Saha
Mr Abdul Geelani,
Practically talking whether u like it or not , no further division of India (and I repeat India{which includes Kashmir} ) is possible on religious lines , whether it has the support of majority or not as it will nullify all the values that modern India stands for.
All right thinking men+women know the only way to a good life is by being :-
a) truthful
b) honest
c) non-violent
d) compassionate
e) not being puppets in the hands of malacious people.
Why not lead a good life, beleive me it is more difficult , than pulling the trigger to siphon out life from unsuspecting people/victims.
Instigating is easy soothing and calming down people is difficult. Wy not try some of these things Mr. Geelani.
Shayad Khuda apko Jaanat ke darwaze pe jagah de de.
Amen
Ispita Saha
Mr Abdul Geelani,
Practically talking whether u like it or not , no further division of India (and I repeat India{which includes Kashmir} ) is possible on religious lines , whether it has the support of majority or not as it will nullify all the values that modern India stands for.
All right thinking men+women know the only way to a good life is by being :-
a) truthful
b) honest
c) non-violent
d) compassionate
e) not being puppets in the hands of malacious people.
Why not lead a good life, beleive me it is more difficult , than pulling the trigger to siphon out life from unsuspecting people/victims.
Instigating is easy soothing and calming down people is difficult. Wy not try some of these things Mr. Geelani.
Shayad Khuda apko Jaanat ke darwaze pe jagah de de.
Amen
Ispita Saha
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(If you haven't left a comment here before, you may need to be approved by the site owner before your comment will appear. Until then, it won't appear on the entry. Thanks for waiting.)Mr Abdul Geelani,
Practically talking whe
Mr Abdul Geelani,
Practically talking whe
Mr Abdul Geelani,
Practically talking whe
Mr, Abdul Geelani,
Practically talking wh
Bada Pyaara Likhthi Vho Kavita!! What I love th
Dearest Kavita,
No memories stir the heart as deeply, as that which tugs at you - of someone you have loved and lost. Yes, this is .... for me.
Do you not think, that the hazy quality of dreams - can be 'real' in the moments of remembering? And bring the same joy lived in that moment, to the present Now?
and to the stirring
the rainbow colors,
changing hues
Fresh and New.
With love,
~ Kate