The Kashmir we know little about
WRITING about Kashmir, I don’t know where to begin. Should I talk about the historic hydroelectric power station set up in 1905 at Mohra village near Uri by Maharaja Pratap Singh, or tell the story of the nearby temple whose entrance was blocked with twigs by locals so that stray cattle could not enter? I can also start by recalling the wry smile on the face of a Sonamarg hotelier who, when asked why he did not watch TV, replied, “What is in it for us? Do the channels show anything other than stone-pelting, and spreading hatred and negativity? Is there nothing more to show about Kashmir?”
Yes, there is a lot more to show. When I asked a group of Mohra elders gossiping under a tree near the abandoned temple, they said, “Sir, the Pandits left in fear all of a sudden. We have been looking after their properties and this temple since then, with the hope that they will return one day. They were like our family members. They still come to attend marriages in the village and invite us to their functions.”
I was astonished to see that all this was being said by Muslim elders of the village. There was no trace of hatred. I was invited for tea at the headman’s house, but had to politely decline as I was pressed for time.
The same evening, our host at the Uri guest house came running to tell us to pack up and leave for Srinagar immediately. We had a flight scheduled for the next day, but he said no vehicles might be available due to a shutdown call given by separatists. We followed his advice.
On the way to Srinagar, our driver Akbar told us, “You did the right thing. The roads may get blocked by midnight, provided the ‘payment’ has been made.”
“What payment?” I asked.
Akbar said each stone-pelter got Rs 500 for the job. They were likely to put obstacles on the road if they received the money on time.
Akbar dropped us at a family-run lodge in Srinagar to spend the night. In the morning, we were stranded again. The lodge owner, Ashraf, made a call to book a taxi, but the person at the other end was scared that the protesters might burn his vehicle if they saw it plying during the shutdown.
Ashraf then hurled abuse at the separatists and said, “Let them burn my car. I will drop you at the airport. You are my guests. I can buy another car, but I cannot hope to host you again if I do not help you at this moment.”
We had no words to thank him! He dropped us and our luggage at the Srinagar airport. We hugged him with teary eyes as he left. “Ashraf, we shall come again to stay with you,” our eyes said.
