I have changed my demeanour after the abrogation of Article 370, and my bio now reads: ‘A subjugated Kashmiri who has been hegemonised–politically, socially and emotionally.’
Before the abrogation of Article 370 and nullification of Article 35A, I was unequivocally Indian. I carry Voter ID, PAN Card, Aadhaar Card, and a passport bearing the seal of the Republic of India, just like all other Indians. But something changed on August 5, 2019. The widespread celebrations following the government’s decision has made me face the uncomfortable dilemma that we are not Indians or accepted as Indians, regardless of the documents we carry. The Home Minister’s speech describing the abrogation as legitimate, imperative, and momentous, saw the birth of quasi-intellectual discussions on Kashmir. These blank, new-born philosophers who lecture us about nationalism now are unaware of how Kashmir and Kashmiris stood for nationalism in the 90s, when there were no takers of India’s sovereignty, integrity, and flag. For the benefit of these freshly-minted Kashmiri experts, here is a slice of history.
Dear new-born Kashmiri experts,
I have faced the normalised mental agony of growing up in the Kashmir of 90s. We were not allowed to keep our lights on beyond 7 pm. If we did, there would be knocks on our doors and a looming fear that the evening could turn into a waking nightmare, any moment. We were scolded by our parents for wanting to read or study into the night (Tu doctor nahi banjayega ek raat mai). We put up with this mental torture through our childhood, and grew up still feeling like Indians, emotionally and by certification.
Salman Khan’s greasy, middle-parted hairdo in Tere Naam became a 90s’ fad, imitated by thousands of youngsters all across the country, but Kashmiri teenagers could not grow their hair long. If a Kashmiri boy was brave enough to copy the film star’s look, their harmless fashion aspirations were short-lived. He would either be spotted by the forces and given a haircut by some major sahib or his father would cut his hair out of the fear that his son would stand out for all the wrong reasons. Yet we remained Indian Nationals at heart and by certification.
As kids, we looked forward to school-organised picnics and day trips. The excitement of spending time with our friends or even considering staying out a little longer than usual was marred by the 6 pm barricading. We were not allowed to cross the army barricades set up on streets after 6 pm. We were told to return home before 6 pm or spend the entire night in a bus on a deserted street. Yet we remained Indian Nationals at heart and by certification.
The wanton ransacking of houses, checkpoints after every 5-km, the winter strip-searches of people wearing pherans (long woollen coat worn by Kashmiris), the hour-long, regular roadside detentions complying with the army’s order—we put up with countless humiliations and still remained Indians at heart, and by certification.
Dear Indians, It has been over a month since Kashmir was plunged into darkness. I do not know the whereabouts of my family because of this communication gag. The abrogation is the latest infringement that shouts, louder than ever, that we are subjugated Kashmiris who have been hegemonized- politically, socially and emotionally. Kindly tell us, under such circumstances, are we or shall we ever be Indians at heart, and by certification? I am eagerly awaiting your reply.
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