In the years since 1990, the Kashmiri Muslims and the Indian government have conspired to abolish the complexities of Kashmiri civilization. The world it inhabited has vanished: the state government and the political class, the rule of law, almost all the Hindu inhabitants of the valley, alcohol, cinemas, cricket matches, picnics by moonlight in the saffron fields, schools, universities, an independent press, tourists and banks. In this reduction of civilian reality, the sights of Kashmir are redefined: not the lakes and Mogul gardens, or the storied triumphs of Kashmiri agriculture, handicrafts and cookery, but two entities that confront each other without intermediary: the mosque and the army camp.
— British journalist James Buchan
I call him Ishmael. 😎
Since it´s now more than 25 years ago that I met my Kashmiri friend in the streets of Delhi, I hope you forgive me that I don´t recall his proper name.
It´s funny sometimes what we remember and what we do not and names are not one of my forte anyway, so for practical reasons I just call him Ishmael.
So I went to Srinagar with the American I had met in the house of Ishmael in Delhi and stayed on the Ishmael family´s houseboat on Dal Lake.
Kashmir is famous for its beauty and its violence.
The Switzerland of India during the day turned into a war zone at night. From the houseboat I could hear the sound of gunfire and explosions at night. You had to make sure to be back to the safety of the houseboat before dark, when the curfew started and it was just not advisable to freak out the Indian soldiers at night, they were constantly on the edge due to the very real threat of getting attacked by Kashmiri Mujahideen, fighting for an independent Kashmir or reunification with Azad Kashmir (Free Kashmir), now under Pakistan´s rule.
A few days later Ishmael also arrived from Delhi, eager to entertain me with gruesome stories of human right violations and atrocities committed by the Indian army.
While the majority of the population of the Kashmir region is Muslim, the former ruler, the Maharaja of Kashmir was Hindu, his troops were also Hindu, and the same troops are of course still in charge of Kashmir. The Gallant Dogras, as they like to call themselves, were not always so gallant to the female Muslim population of Kashmir, somewhere I had read something about “rape being their specialty“.
Ishmael also had his very own story to tell.
One day, he was walking along Dal Lake on his way to town. He was approaching a bridge over a canal while from the other side an Indian army patrol was approaching. The soldiers reached the bridge before him and when they were right on the bridge a boat with Mujahideen pulled out from under the bridge and the Mujahideen opened fire.
When the gunfight started, Ishmael ran back to the safety of the houseboat.
The next day soldiers came to the houseboat and arrested him, suspecting him to be a spotter for the Mujahideen and wanted to have some names. It had just been a typical wrong place wrong time situation, but the Indian soldiers were not amused. I forgot if they had suffered any casualties the day before, but during the interrogation they broke one of Ishmael´s arms. When he did not give them any names, they let him go after a few days. He was very lucky, other people had disappeared in similar circumstances.
So I asked him if he had known the Mujahideen.
“Of course I know them, but if I give their names to the Indians, they will come to the houseboat and kill me as a traitor, so better the Indian soldiers broke my arm instead.“
This story is typical for people in conflict zones.
The majority would just like to mind their own business and have peace, but they get caught up in the violence of the warring factions.
After I heard this story, I always felt a bit uneasy when crossing that bridge where the ambush had happened, but during my time at Dal Lake and in Srinagar the days were quiet, hell was contend to break loose only at night.
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