41
B OOK S / AU T HOR S Conversation
locations of privilege hadn't allowed me to question previously. I have been conscious of the limited representations in some other works on Kashmir which reflect the power relations between those who represent and those who are represented. For me, my maternal grandfather, Sheikh Mohammad Abdullah sahib, has always been a larger than life figure, whom I revere. I question some of his political decisions but am fully cognizant of the collision of the ideas of selfdetermination, identity, and unity propounded by the young members of the Reading Room Party and the Plebiscite Front with the brutal force and suppression wielded by the Indian and Pakistani nation-states. I have
appraised not just the history of the Kashmiri nationalism dominated by the elite but I have carefully looked at the politics of the people and the political mobilization engendered by such politics. Popular mobilization in J & K during the 1930s and 1940s took the form of uprisings, which was a primary locus of political action. This potent political resistance was led by people like Sheikh Mohammad Abdullah, Chauhary Ghulam Abbas, Mirza Afzal Beig, Maulana Masoodi, Ghulam Ahmad Ashai, Kasap Bandhu, who did not have access to the echelons of power and spoke vociferously from the margins. Their activism made substantive forays into established discourses and structures of power. I have engaged constructively with
issues of representation and knowledge production. The primary question for me is “Who is speaking and who is being silenced?,” enabling me to recognize the legitimacy of knowledge produced from the point of view of the local subject, like the vaakhs of Lalla-Ded; the cultural and religious knowledge disseminated by Nund Rishi; the determination of the women's militia in 1948; the stoicism and perseverance of the Association of Parents of Disappeared Persons; the conviction of the workers of political parties who maintain the vibrancy of the credo of selfdetermination; the collision of the idea of self-determination with military oppression on the contentious site of nationalism.
Islam, Women, and the Violence in Kashmir:
Between India and Pakistan BOOK Excerpts
www.epilogue.in
T
he once paradisiacal region coveted by kings and mystics alike, albeit for different reasons, where snow-covered peaks majestically tower over flowing rivers and streams bordered by lilies gently swaying to the cadences of the gentle breeze, by a quirk of fate, has become a valley of guns and unmarked graves. The paean of the Mughal emperor Jahangir in 1620 to the enthralling and spiritually healing beauty of Kashmir bespeaks the passionate longing it engendered: "If one were to praise Kashmir, whole books would have to be written. Kashmir is a garden of eternal spring, or an iron fort to a palace of kings – a delightful flower-bed, and a heart-expanding heritage for dervishes. Its pleasant meads and enchanting cascades are beyond all description. There are running streams and fountains beyond count. Wherever the eye reaches, there is verdure and running water. The red rose, the violet and the narcissus grow of themselves; in the fields, there are all kinds of flowers and all sorts of sweet-scented herbs, more than can be
Vol. 3, Issue 11
calculated. In the soul-enchanting spring the hills and plains are filled with blossoms; the gates, the walls, the courts, the roofs, are lighted up by the torches of the banquet-adoring tulips. What shall we say of these things or the wide meadows and the fragrant trefoil?" (Rogers 1914: 114) The breezes of Kashmir, which once had the power to heal every trauma, now cause searing wounds. The throes of pain, palpable in every withering flower and trembling leaf, can lacerate the most hardened person. The ripe pomegranate trees that once bespoke a cornucopia now seem laden with an unbearable burden. The liturgies in mosques, temples, and churches that once provided spiritual ecstasy are now jarring cacophonies. The comforting solitude that one could thrive on in various spots of the Valley now seems like a psychosis-inducing solitariness. What happened to the Valley that provided inspiration to poets, saints, and writers? Where is the beauteous land in which even a dull-witted writer could find her/his muse? Where are the majestic chinars, the fragrant pine trees and the
Epilogue, November 2009