Jammu And Kashmir: Revenge of the lambs
by Kaveree Bamzai
November 6, 2010
The shoe hurled at separatist leader Syed Ali Shah Geelani last fortnight at a function in Delhi was the most visible sign yet of the anger of displaced Kashmiri Pandits, led by children of those who were forced to flee the Valley after 1989. A group of over 100 Kashmiri Pandits, mostly young professionals, organised under the umbrella of Roots in Kashmir (RIK), now ensure that no protest for "azadi" goes unchallenged.
Kashmiri pandits protest in Delhi
They have spent a night in lock-up for demonstrating at former Union minister Saifuddin Soz's home in Delhi, been dragged away by the police when countering a pro-azadi protest in Delhi, and filed over 200 writs under the RTI Act to check the status of cases against former JKLF militant Bitta Karate, who is accused of killing many Kashmiri Pandits. The aim is clear: to make as much noise as the Kashmiri Muslims in Delhi, and let the sound and fury float through the media. The lambs are turning into lions.
Started in 2006, the RIK has members and causes in common with Panun Kashmir (PK), which was formed in the aftermath of the exodus from the Valley in 1991 to demand a separate homeland. PK now has two major factions, one led by writer Dr Agnishekhar and the other by Dr Ajay Chrungoo. The RIK abides by PK's core objectives but believes in instant, event-based action. It has no office, only a Friday gathering of as many as possible at a coffee shop in Delhi. Its members call themselves strategists, not just street activists, and use modern methods of communication - Facebook, blogs and Twitter.
At the centre is Rashneek Kher, a 37-year-old head of logistics at a fertiliser MNC, who was just 10 when he had to leave Kashmir to live as a refugee in Jammu. Dr Manish Mattoo, director, Fortis Escorts Hospital, Raipur, read an inspiring post by Kher on a Kashmiri e-network four years ago and decided to sign up for the RIK. RIK and PK are closely linked through individuals such as PK's National Youth Coordinator Veer Wangnoo, who was 13 when he had to leave Srinagar in 1990 after being roughed up on the playground by his friends.
The senior Patni Computers executive cannot forget that experience: "My classmates were asking me to recite the kalima; I was kicked for carrying a geometry box with the Indian flag; my Muslim barber was murdered by his son and buried in his courtyard for speaking secularism." It is this memory that young Pandits have carried with them, while establishing themselves and kickstarting their careers. It is something they are now determined to counter.
"It is not one day's fight," says 75-year-old writer Shashi Shekhar Toshkahani. "We have to open fire on several fronts." It could be a seminar at Delhi's Nehru Memorial Museum and Library last year where Yasin Malik spoke. "This man has 28 cases registered against him. He has the blood of our community on his hands. If he has the right to speak, we have the right to protest," says Aditya Raj Kaul, a 21-year-old freelance writer, who was just nine months old when his family had to leave Srinagar. It could also be connecting with the Kanchi Mutt, which has decided to set up an IAS coaching centre for young Pandits to restore their presence in the bureaucracy. Or it could be speaking up forcefully at a seminar in Hyderabad when human rights activist Gautam Navlakha was articulating what they believe was a "one-sided" stand on the Amarnath land dispute.
stand on the Amarnath land dispute. There are also efforts to keep alive the cultural essence of Kashmiri Hindus. There's 18-year-old Radhika Koul, a linguistics student at Yale, who hopes to initiate a standardised teaching system for youngsters to help them speak Kashmiri fluently. The movement has, as the 33-year-old Mattoo points out, "created strong bonds among the activists and other associates, something our community is in dire need of at this hour".
It's evident in a late evening meeting of six Delhi activists, all busy executives, who have gathered at the office of Sushil Pandit, the 47-year-old CEO of an advertising agency, Hive. Sandwiches and samosas are passed around as the group talks of how they don't let slip an opportunity to be heard. Or to make a point which they are doing with a smartly packaged cultural quarterly, Praznath. Or even to simply celebrate the Kashmiri New Year, Navreh, at a recreated Hari Parbat, once the symbol of Kashmir's proud syncretism, in Faridabad.
They don't claim to speak for all the 6.5 lakh Kashmiri Pandits outside the Valley (only 3,200 of them are left in Srinagar) but do their best to grab media attention and to connect with other organisations. For this lost generation, the mirror of the one that has grown up in conflict in Kashmir, the idea is to never forget.
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