Kashmir: The Land of Agents RIYAZ WANI Everybody here is an agent. Pakistani agent, Indian agent, double agent and if you resist any explicit definition then people will stick their own label on you. But you still are an agent. You have to be one. Because, there is no neutral space in Kashmir. When the campaign for azadi began in October 1989, it at once engineered a neat polarisation of the entire social fabric of Kashmir. People lost their human individuality and took on political identities. Or should we say labels, that pejorative form of human identity. For many, metamorphosis came unannounced. One was now either a Tehreeki (pro-secessionist and pro-Pak) or a ‘Nationally’ (activist of National Conference), ‘Congressy’ or generally pro-India. A new social semantic churned up and soon Kashmir was a sizzling cauldron of identities – imagined or perceived – empowering many and victimizing others. In the consequent inexorable cycle of murder and mayhem, people killed and died over their labels. The number of so-called Pakistani or Indian agents killed in the past 16 years of turmoil forms a substantial chunk of the Valley’s azadi toll. Every hill and every pasture of Kashmir has been a mute witness to it. Every street and every market knows it. Every stream and lake is familiar with the Valley’s story of carnage. And of course, the river Jhelum bears its evidence. In the early nineties, when the Valley descended into relentless turmoil, the turbid Jhelum water clearly reflected it. Everyday, corpses flowed down its ancient waters. In Baramulla where I live, and which is situated along the river, people came down to its banks everyday to witness the horrible spectacle. If the ‘Nationalies’ and ‘Congressis’ (Indian agents) formed the target at the start of the armed campaign, the advent of Kuka Parray, the first major pro-India insurgent leader, in 1993 reversed the trend. The ‘Jamaatis’ (Pakistan agents) were then the target. This triggered the Valley’s second major migration after the flight of the Kashmiri Pandits in 1990. As the pro-Government insurgents (Ikhwanies) ran amok across the Kashmir countryside, thousands of Jamaat workers shifted their base to urban areas, with Srinagar being the preferred destination. The scene played out for a full five years until the Kargil war in 1998 when things again returned to square one. Foreign militants started pouring into the Valley and the Ikhwanies were at the receiving end. Scores of them, including their top leadership were eliminated. Militants regained their dominance and were on the rise until 9/11 happened and the subsequent ripples reached Kashmir. The period afterward was more complex, which reflected on the labels of the people as well. The credibility crisis worsened and genuine political space was squeezed even more. Now the meaning of the word ‘agent’ was fraught with a wide range of implications, unknown before. Pakistanis were branded Indian agents and Indians were seen as Pakistani agents. Many were seen as “one-in-twos”, still others were seen as belonging to one camp but in reality owing allegiance to the other. Labels turned paradoxical or reflected irony. Many people adjusted and then re-adjusted themselves to the political winds. Besides, identities also began to be differentiated by degrees and diversities of commitments: black and white intervened by a wide palette of gray. Separatists split in the name of Pakistan-wallas, Azadi wallas, Kashmir-First’s and a mixture of everything. And mainstream leaders misappropriated the broad contours of separatism to have the best of both worlds. Of course, the effect has percolated to the grassroots too. Kashmiris are now a motley political mass, polarised along tehsil lines, with every politician boasting of a little support base of his own, even if it extends to just a small urban locality or a distant border hamlet. But despite all these variations, an agent is an agent is an agent. The Kashmiri still has a long way to go to qualify as an individual. He remains fundamentally, an agent. An Indian agent or an ISI agent. Nothing changes it. In the present Kashmir discourse, NC founder Sheikh Abdullah is an agent, as he led a 23-year-old plebiscite struggle and then termed it “political wilderness” after an accord with Indira Gandhi in 1975. His contemporaries and J&K rulers like Bakshi Ghulam Muhammad, G M Sadiq and Mir Qasim were equally given the label. It is the same story with present Chief Minister Omar Abdullah or his predecessor Ghulam Nabi Azad or his predecessor Mufti Sayeed. Nobody is above the tag. The Musharraf-led peace process between 2003-2007 brought a qualitative shift to the characterisation. It became even more complex and ambivalent. Believe it or not, Mirwaiz Umar Farooq is seen by many as an Indian agent and Geelani, despite his commitment to Pakistan, is also not absolved of suspicion. And after Musharraf’s glib talk on Kashmir, even he invited the blame on himself. Can you beat it: Musharraf as an Indian agent! Similarly, Asif Ali Zardari and the current Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif attract needles of suspicion every time they make India-friendly noises. And now the former Army Chief General VK Singh’s revelations about army pay-offs in the state have further qualified the discourse. General Singh has added a degree of authenticity to this endemic culture of suspicion like never before. By saying that the army does pay the ministers in Kashmir for “stabilisation efforts” in the state, and with his friend the agriculture minister Ghulam Hassan Mir having received Rs 1.19 crore in 2010 to “topple” the J&K government, General Singh vitiated the scene. And this in turn has spawned a fresh cycle of speculations. The environment in which people operate is so thick with suspicion that not only strangers but even friends suspect one another, and do it with the least compunction, even though they may have known each other for years. But those who pick on others are not free from the blame too. They are also talked about in asides, whispers and murmurs. There can be no such thing as personal integrity. If one stands apart and observes dispassionately, this reflex action to label is a hidden facet of Kashmir’s tragedy. A symptom of a deep psychological malaise in a people suffering a bloody identity conflict. Which is what the Kashmir problem is really all about: a case of unsettled self-identity of Kashmiris.
Posted on: Thu, 07 Nov 2013 07:34:02 +0000
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