Showing posts with label HISTORTY. Show all posts
Showing posts with label HISTORTY. Show all posts

Monday, October 19, 2020

PART 6 TUMULTOUS GEO POLTICS OF KASHMIR : Stones of Silence: Ladakh and Beyond

 


Saturday, October 17, 2020

PART 6 TUMULTOUS GEO POLTICS OF KASHMIR : Stones of Silence: Ladakh and Beyond

SOURCE:

https://www.sundayguardianlive.com/news/stones-silence-ladakh-beyond                  

Tibetan Wild Ass

Shows a lot more common sense than the Chinese President, Xi Jinping when it comes to identifying borders. 




PART SIX 

REFERENCES


PART  ONE: Nights Without End: Four Days with the Hizbul Mujahideen

https://bcvasundhra.blogspot.com/2020/10/tumultous-geo-poltics-of-kashmir-nights.html


PART  TWO:  The Heaven Born: The Men Who Ruled Kashmir

https://bcvasundhra.blogspot.com/2020/10/part-2-tumultous-geo-poltics-of-kashmir.html


PART  THREE  : Puppeteers Without Strings: Pied Pipers of Hate 

https://bcvasundhra.blogspot.com/2020/10/part-3-tumultous-geo-poltics-of-kashmir.html


PART  FOUR Dining at the High Table: The Early Military History of Kashmir

https://bcvasundhra.blogspot.com/2020/10/part-4-tumultous-geo-poltics-of-kashmir.html


PART FIVE :   HISTORY OF DOGRA EMPIRE:  Mastermind The Emergence  of Gulab Singh

https://bcvasundhra.blogspot.com/2020/10/part-5-tumultous-geo-poltics-of-kashmir.html?zx=b395f07a5f64b481

PART SIX Stones of Silence: Ladakh and Beyond

https://bcvasundhra.blogspot.com/2020/10/saturday-october-17-2020-part-6_19.html


PART SEVEN :   Kingdom of Mountains : Dogras and the East India Company

https://bcvasundhra.blogspot.com/2020/10/part-7-tumultous-geo-poltics-of-kashmir.html


PART EIGHT :  Cat and Mouse Games  :British Empire and the J&K Maharajas

https://bcvasundhra.blogspot.com/2020/10/part-8-tumultous-geo-poltics-of-kashmir.html



     Stones of Silence: Ladakand                   Beyond

           

                   BY 

                   Shiv Kunal Verma

A royal inscription engraved on stone at Hunder in the Shyok Valley, mentioning King Bhagaram Mir. (Shiv Kunal Verma/KaleidoIndia)

The September 1842 peace treaty accepted the traditional boundary between Ladakh and Tibet. The village and the area around Minsar near Mansarover Lake that were held by the Rajas of Ladakh since 1583, were retained by the Jammu and Kashmir Maharajas and till 1948 they continued to receive the revenue from Minsar that lies hundreds of miles inside Tibet.

 

Bandrol, Kullu:

 The Kiang, or the Tibetan Wild Ass (Equus kiang), whose small herds inhabit the area around Chushul and the Spangur Gap, shows a lot more common sense than the Chinese President, Xi Jinping when it comes to identifying borders. 

The ass knows which area is controlled by the Indians and it roams freely there, while keeping well clear of PLA-held ground. The Chinese, their knives honed to salami slice territory, are also known to eat, among other things, the largest of the wild asses which otherwise harms no one, barely scrimping out an existence on the scarce montane and alpine grasslands of the high Himalayas.


The PLA, when it first came calling in Tibet and then Eastern Ladakh in the immediate decade preceding 1962, showed scant disregard for traditionally settled boundaries that had survived the test of time or any existing formal treaty for that matter. The then Chinese strongman, Chairman Mao, had already pulled off the largest land grab in the post WWII-era by bringing both Sinkiang and Tibet into the overall fold of the PRC, after which he decided to cut Nehru down to size in keeping with the age old Chinese saying that “there cannot be two tigers on a hill”. Having completely misread Mao’s devious intentions, the Indians then handed unto themselves a military defeat that then scared the nation’s psyche for the next five and a half decades, creating an unequal relationship, where the Chinese dragon repeatedly tries to bully the Indian elephant.


Travelling through the Shyok Valley in winter with Dr Sonam Wangchuk in 2011, we would try to wrap our heads around the topography of the surrounding area, which in the pre-satellite imagery days was a forbidding task. “It is believed that in ancient times, Ladakh might have been under Greater Tibet as part of Zhangzhung and Ngar Skorsum, but ruled by local chieftains. But since the 10th century it was always an independent kingdom until the Dogra invasion took place in 1835.” Sonam was from Khardung village and had been handpicked by the Rimpoche to do a PhD on Tibetan Buddhism and his knowledge of the area was formidable. We would climb into the remotest of places looking for royal inscriptions and paintings that few knew of. “Inscription mentions King Bhagaram Mir,” he would say, while I would dutifully take photographs and file the information away. These little bits of information someday would help paint the larger picture, or so I hoped!


Royal scene inside the Dukhang Karpo (White Temple) at Hunder, Nubra, built by King Tsewang Stanba around the 15th century. (Shiv Kunal Verma/KaleidoIndia)


The area of ethnologic Tibet was close to 800,000 square miles, with the majority of the Tibetan population at the time living in the districts between Lhasa and the Chinese border. Not only was the altitude a factor, the harshness of the terrain served to isolate it not just from India to the south, but also China to the east and Mongolia to its north. The devastating hordes of Mongols that poured through Central Asia and reduced the Russians and half of Europe to vassalage never entered Tibet, even though it lay at their very doorstep. Even when they attacked India, they chose to swing around Tibet and entered the subcontinent through the easier passes of Afghanistan.

Given the nature of the terrain, the Indo-Tibet boundary was always going to be a problem. Apart from its vastness—extending from the Karakorams in the west to the area beyond the Lohit River in the east—the actual demarcation could never be done. Both the Tibetans and the peoples living in various kingdoms to the south, rarely followed geographical features, being content to confine themselves to the more practical method of separating territories by need. For example, the Tibetans were more interested in the higher reaches for grazing their yaks and flocks of upland sheep, while those in the relatively lower areas would base their claim on the vegetation that grew there. This system worked well until the beginning of the 20th century, until surveyors and cartographers armed with modern mapping gadgets began to delineate frontiers on geographical lines.

The frontiers also remained relatively ill-defined because governmental control in Tibet was fairly fluid. Given the fact that both the Chinese and the British were constantly probing and pushing their frontiers forward, it was perhaps inevitable that there would be serious differences in opinion. In subsequent years, it would be a great irony that the PRC would on behalf of Tibet, lay claim to areas that the Tibetans themselves had conceded as not being a part of political Tibet.

The frontier between Ladakh and Tibet can be traced back to the 10th century when a Tibetan prince, Skyid-Ida-Ngeemagon, conferred the Meryal (Ladakh) fief to his eldest son. Since then, various kings ruled over Ladakh. In 1681 and 1683, the Tibetans, aided by Mongols, invaded Ladakh. Subsequently, in 1684 a peace treaty between the two sides was concluded that read: “The boundaries fixed in the beginning, when Skid-Ida-Ngeemagon gave a kingdom to each of his three sons, should still be maintained.”

After Mao’s intervention, the Chinese started to question the existence of any such treaty. Peking further claimed that: “Skyid-Ida-Ngeemagon conferred fiefs on each of his three sons only reflects a change in ownership of manorial estates among feudal lords of Tibet at that time. The three sons of the prince each took his share of fiefs from the united Skyid-Ida-Ngeemagon dominions, and Meryal at that time was a small state.” The Chinese then conclude: “Therefore, the question of delimiting the boundary between Ladakh and Tibet as between two countries does not arise.”

Zorawar Singh, Gulab Singh’s general who led a military expedition into Zanskar and Ladakh in 1835 and then again in 1841. 


The main bone of contention in later years with the Chinese is the boundary that extends eastwards from the Karakoram Pass to the Chang Chenmo valley that lies to the south. This was the traditional line that divided the Ladakh region from Sinkiang and Tibet, both of which came under Communist China’s control after Mao came to power. On the other hand, India claims the huge expanse of the Aksai Chin that lies south of the Kuen Lun mountain range as an integral part of its territory. The entire zone is a vast high altitude desert with huge salt lakes at heights in the region of 5,000m. Geographically though part of the Tibetan Plateau and the Chang Tang, the region is almost uninhabited and sees little precipitation due to the Himalayan and other mountains to the south soaking up the Indian monsoon. Historically, however, the 38,000 sq km Aksai Chin was considered to be a part of the Kingdom of Ladakh even when it was officially annexed by Kashmir in 1846.

Leaving the Aksai Chin to the north, the boundary then drops south from the Chang Chenmo valley to Spiti, which is today a part of Himachal Pradesh. This line passes through Pangong Tso, Chushul and Demchok. The entire frontage for the western section is over 1,610 kilometres and this entire region has continuously been a part of Ladakh for close to a thousand years. Gulab Singh’s mercurial rise under Maharaja Ranjit Singh had made the 1835 Dogra expedition under Zorawar Singh into the trans-Himalayan region an important event whose ramifications were felt in the Lahore Durbar. After crossing Umasi-la and getting to Padam, Zorawar had then moved westwards, capturing the Suru River Valley and the small town of Kargil. In the next four years, he had the entire region of Ladakh and Baltistan under his control.

Once again in 1841, Zorawar Singh crossed back into Ladakh. His 5,000-strong army supplemented by another 2,000 men from Kishtwar, Ladakh and Baltistan advanced eastwards along the Indus river and brushed aside all Tibetan opposition at Rudok and Tashigong. By September the Dogras had set up base at Taklakot near the Mansarovar Lake, where they hastily constructed a small fort. This location was 15 miles from the borders of Nepal and Kumaon. Both the king of Nepal and the British governor of the North West Province (later United Provinces, then Uttar Pradesh and later still, Uttarakhand) sent their emissaries to meet with Zorawar Singh. The British had been viewing the Dogra advance with alarm; from their point of view a direct link between Lahore (the Sikhs) and Nepal (the Gorkhas) was most undesirable, and they had been putting relentless pressure on the Lahore Durbar to press Gulab Singh to recall Zorawar Singh and vacate the Tibetan territory occupied by him.

However, by then, Zorawar Singh had already shot his bolt. The intense cold and lack of supplies had virtually immobilized his army and to make matters worse, the Tibetans, aware of the threat to Lhasa, had put together a large force to neutralize the Dogras. Boldly seeking to engage the Tibetans rather than sit back and wait for them to attack him, the Dogras were overcome at Toyu on 11/12 December, 1841 at an altitude of over 16,000 feet. Zorawar Singh himself died fighting. Very few survivors from this ill-fated campaign escaped into British Kumaon.

Gulab Singh’s prestige was severely dented by the demise of Zorawar Singh and his army, and to make matters worse, the Tibetan Army was now advancing on Ladakh. A force under the command of Dewan Hari Chand was rushed from Jammu to Chushul where it convincingly crushed the Tibetans, thereby avenging the defeat at Toyu. In September 1842, Diwan Hari Chand and Wazir Ratnu, on behalf of Gulab Singh, signed a peace treaty with Kalon Surkhan and Depon Pishy, who represented the Tibetan government. This treaty “as recognised by both sides since olden times,” accepted the traditional boundary between Ladakh and Tibet. The village and area around Minsar near Mansarover Lake that was held by the Rajas of Ladakh since 1583, were, however, retained by the Jammu and Kashmir Maharajas and till 1948 they continued to receive the revenue from Minsar that lies hundreds of miles inside Tibet. This treaty of 1842 settled the boundary between Ladakh and Tibet in unequivocal terms, leaving no cause for any kind of border dispute in this region. Or so it was thought!

The Treaty itself was in three separate, but essentially identical, versions; one each between Tibet and Ladakh, another between their principals, the Sikh Durbar and China. The Persian text in Tibet’s possession reads: “We shall remain in possession of the limits of boundaries of Ladakh and the neighbours subordinate to it, in accordance with the old customs, and there shall be no transgression and no interference in the country beyond the old-established frontiers.” The Tibetan text in Kashmir’s possession was of the same tenor.

After the Amritsar Treaty formally created the kingdom of Jammu and Kashmir, the British abrogated to themselves the responsibility for Kashmir’s northern and eastern borders with Sinkiang and Tibet. The first British attempt in 1847, Cunningham’s Ladakh Border Commission, failed to delineate the eastern border between Ladakh and Tibet and the northern boundaries between Kashmir and Xinjiang, which left the British no choice but to rely on the earlier treaty of 1842 which the Chinese would later contest on the grounds that it had more to do with non-aggression rather than the delineation of the boundary.

So what then were the old established frontiers? Much has been written about the survey conducted by William Henry Johnson in 1865 whose main task was to draw the line from Demchok in the south to the 18,000 feet high Karakoram pass in the north. Some claim Johnson’s border took a circuitous route beyond the Kuen Lun Mountains and thus included the barren and cold Aksai Chin desert into the political map of Kashmir, but in reality he was only following the established boundaries of Ladakh that already existed. To complicate matters, Johnson resigned his job and was appointed by the Maharaja of Kashmir as the Governor of Ladakh. This move gave his critics the ammunition they needed to rubbish his map-making abilities on the ground that Johnson had included the vast territory of the Aksai Chin to cosy up to the Maharaja who was obviously pleased as punch to see the size of his state increase dramatically. Johnson on his part had been fairly meticulous—besides overseeing transportation and advice on the routes, Johnson himself travelled right up to Shahidula. In 1878, when the Chinese once again established their control over Sinkiang, they created a customs post north of Shahidula implying that they considered the Kuen Lun as outside their jurisdiction.

Almost half a century later, the British Minister to China, Sir Claude MacDonald, again tried to address the boundary issue, suggesting the demarcation of the frontier between Sinkiang and Tibet with Ladakh. Once again China refused to accept the proposal. Subsequently, the Chinese would point to the MacDonald proposal as proof that none of the earlier arguments held any water as the proposal itself proved that the boundary had not been delineated. 


However, on closer scrutiny, the MacDonald proposal was a major deviation from the earlier established boundary. 


The new proposal, in fact, drew a line from the Karakoram Pass towards the east that differed from any Indian or British map of that time. Ironically, the MacDonald line would have placed more than half of the Aksai Chin in Chinese territory.


Unfortunately, post-Independence, India’s getting embroiled in an inconclusive shooting match with Pakistan over Kashmir, further complicated matters. Pakistani tribal lashkars, apart from making a grab for Srinagar, also made a determined grab for Ladakh, the invaders getting to the outskirts of Leh itself. With the Pakistan factor also coming into play, the Sino-Indian boundary became even more complicated. Five years were to pass after Jammu and Kashmir acceded to India in 1947 before the Chinese moved into the Aksai Chin area, which had been left unguarded. At that time India’s boundaries in Eastern Ladakh were based on Johnson’s map. But matters had moved on, for by the time India sent a patrol into the Western Karakorams to show the flag, the G-219 Highway, the main link to the Karakoram Highway, had already been constructed by the Chinese. And then of course 1962 happened, and ever since hair continues to be split over differing Chinese claim lines!

                     ---------------------------------------------

Shiv Kunal Verma is the author of “1962: The War That Wasn’t” and “The Long Road to Siachen: The Question Why”.

This is the sixth part of a series on Kashmir. 



Tuesday, October 13, 2020

PART 2 TUMULTOUS GEO POLTICS OF KASHMIR : The Heaven Born: The Men Who Ruled Kashmir

 SOURCE:

https://www.sundayguardianlive.com/news/heaven-born-men-ruled-kashmir




PART TWO

REFERENCES


PART  ONE: Nights Without End: Four Days with the Hizbul Mujahideen

https://bcvasundhra.blogspot.com/2020/10/tumultous-geo-poltics-of-kashmir-nights.html


PART  TWO:  The Heaven Born: The Men Who Ruled Kashmir

https://bcvasundhra.blogspot.com/2020/10/part-2-tumultous-geo-poltics-of-kashmir.html


PART  THREE  : Puppeteers Without Strings: Pied Pipers of Hate 

https://bcvasundhra.blogspot.com/2020/10/part-3-tumultous-geo-poltics-of-kashmir.html


PART  FOUR Dining at the High Table: The Early Military History of Kashmir

https://bcvasundhra.blogspot.com/2020/10/part-4-tumultous-geo-poltics-of-kashmir.html


PART FIVE :   HISTORY OF DOGRA EMPIRE:  Mastermind The Emergence  of Gulab Singh

https://bcvasundhra.blogspot.com/2020/10/part-5-tumultous-geo-poltics-of-kashmir.html?zx=b395f07a5f64b481

PART SIX Stones of Silence: Ladakh and Beyond

https://bcvasundhra.blogspot.com/2020/10/saturday-october-17-2020-part-6_19.html


PART SEVEN :   Kingdom of Mountains : Dogras and the East India Company

https://bcvasundhra.blogspot.com/2020/10/part-7-tumultous-geo-poltics-of-kashmir.html


PART EIGHT :  Cat and Mouse Games  :British Empire and the J&K Maharajas

https://bcvasundhra.blogspot.com/2020/10/part-8-tumultous-geo-poltics-of-kashmir.html


After spending four days and nights filming with the Hizbul Mujahideen in North Kashmir in 1995, Shiv Kunal Verma (centre) links up with an officer from 13 Kumaon. On his left is Havildar Deen Mohammad, who was his assistant. Apart from cameras, everyone had to be armed to be able to protect themselves as ambushes were common in an extremely volatile scenario. (KaleidoIndia)



TUMULTOUS GEO- POLTICS OF KASHMIR





        The Heaven Born

   : The Men Who Ruled Kashmir


                  BY 

        SHIV KUNAL VERMA



  • August 29, 2020
UPDATED: August 31, 2020


Papa John told me not to tell Sheikh Abdullah that the villages were in such abject poverty that they were ripe for a Che Guevara. ‘You think he needs to hear it from you? He knows all this.’



There is a road that runs from Roing to Anini in Arunachal Pradesh that goes over the Mayudia pass. Accompanied by KK, I was shooting images for my Northeast trilogy of books and we crossed over with some difficulty owing to the patches of snow and got to Hunli, a small hamlet where a handful of gaon buras were awaiting our arrival. The previous day (and night) had been spent photographing with the Idu Mishmi in Roing and I was looking with some apprehension towards another round of aka drinking, but if you are to be a sworn part of a brotherhood, drink aka you must. I was thankful we had been given the guest house reserved for the Governor who had left in a Mi-172 helicopter the previous evening, for at least KK was rested and fully fit for what was going to be a real test of character. The local aka, with a slight twang of oranges, was, to put it mildly, interesting.


Beyond us lay the virtually inhabited Dibang Valley and the last outpost of Anini, beyond which lay the Yonggyap La and the Andra La, passes traversed by Captains Morshead and Baily when they surveyed the watershed between Tibet and British India 98 years ago. The motley gathering of gaon buras in their assorted hats were in a jovial mood, for they had been tippling away since daybreak! The previous day, after the Governor had taken off from Roing, it appeared he had made a stop at Hunli where the accompanying chief guest, Dr Farooq Abdullah had addressed the motley gathering.


“So what did he say?” I asked. It was more of a perfunctory question, the sort you tend to make because the conversation leads you to it. KK, his head tilted in an attentive manner, was also listening. One of the gaon buras then said (spoken Hindi in Arunachal is excellent), “He spoke of Kashmir.” No major surprise there, since Dr Abdullah had not only been the Chief Minister of J&K, he was the son of Sheikh Saab, the “Lion of Kashmir” and his son had also followed in his shoes. There must have been the odd gap here and there, but the Abdullahs had always been an integral part of the power equation ever since Maharaja Hari Singh’s rule had come to an end in 1947.


A video camera suddenly appeared and it was cued with some difficulty. Then there was Dr Abdullah, in his full oratory glory: 

“Kashmir mein hum Pakistan se kehte hain…hum par bum dalo…goli chalao…phir yeh Hindustan ki hukumat tokri mein bhar bhar ke paise laati hai…aap ke dono taraf Cheen hai…aap unse kaho aap par bum giraye…missile chalain…phir dekho (In Kashmir we have Pakistan next to us. We ask them to bomb and fire at us. Government of India then gives us lots of money. You have China on two sides…ask them to do the same).”

KK’s mouth was wide open…and I suspect so was mine. To make matters worse, the camera cut to His Excellency, a former Army Chief of the Indian Army. This cannot be happening—I remember the thought flashing through my head.


“Give me the tape”, I said to the gaon buras trying to keep the tone casual, but seeing KK and me exchange glances, the video camera had disappeared, the owner having set off to “make a copy”. Needless to say, no one wants to cross swords with a Constitutional authority, so we never saw the cameraman again. Unfortunately, I had been around long enough in Kashmir to know that the dear Dr Abdullah, for once in his life, was being candidly truthful! 

IN KASHMIR 

Fresh out of college, embarking on a new life, I had driven into the Kashmir Valley in the summer of 1981 curled up on top in what truck drivers liked to call a tool box, which was above the cabin. The heat and dust of the plains left behind, we crossed the Banihal tunnel and the valley opened itself up and engulfed whoever entered it into its fold. It was, to put it mildly, beautiful! The Jhelum languid, almost placid, the tall poplar trees, indigo growing in the fields, carts drawn by horses…and then suddenly there was Srinagar with its chinar-lined avenues and the wooden Tourist Reception Centre. My boss was Colonel “Papa” John Weikfield, loved by one and all, and our office was the quaint annexe of Nedou’s Hotel that also housed the residence of Sheikh Abdullah. Tiger Tops Mountain Travel was a high-end Nepal-based tourism company, with a footprint in the Valley and another in Ladakh. I was the new kid in town, and my job would be to recce and mark out old trails between the two regions and see if they could be developed as viable trekking routes.. 

 Three wars had been fought over Kashmir with Pakistan but life in the early 1980s was as idealistic as it could get. The Dal Lake, the Boulevard, the houseboats on the Nagin…goldfinches on thistle, Alpine flowers everywhere, the slopes of Dachigam where Hangul roamed free and black bears inhabited the oak trees…and trout the size of your arm that were clearly visible in the fast flowing crystal clear streams. I had the bungalow next to Shalimar Gardens and the sunsets on the Dal Lake would turn everything into a shimmering gold.

“It’s an illusion,” Papa John would say as we drove in his Land Rover through the remoter parts of the Valley looking for off-beat rivers to fish, suddenly aware of the fact that the villages in the countryside had been bypassed by development in any form. “The corruption levels in the state have created an economic disparity which is going to create mayhem! The administration has forgotten what happened in 1947 and 1965. Money is pouring in, but it never goes beyond a select few.”

On the other hand, the select few—the heaven born—were all around us. The largest bungalows belonged to the oldest serving political families, and they drove in and out of houses with police pilot cars clearing the way for them and sometimes even their extended families. As time passed, one began to realise just how deep the rot was. Even to get a fishing licence on the Bhringi or the Lidder, one had to slip in a small bribe.

Days passed. One got to see various parts of the Valley, and once the actual recce trips began, the surrounding areas including the areas south of the Pir Panjal, be it Poonch-Rajauri-Naushera to the west or Kishtwar towards the east, all came into one’s gambit. As these real-time geographical lessons unfolded, so did the historical perspective begin to emerge. Following maps from Zorawar Singh’s time, I first crossed into Zanskar after traversing the 17,526 ft Umasi La in 1981. I was extremely curious to see what Kargil looked like, the Balti town having seen a fair share of fighting in 1948, 1965 and 1971. At that time the information available on some of these events was virtually non-existent.

It had become routine—trek up from the Kashmir Valley into Ladakh, then fly back to the Valley, loaf around for a few days, then head back up again. Papa John was a great friend of Sheikh Saab and once he heard I had crossed Umasi La, Sheikh Saab invited me to have breakfast with him at the Nedou’s Hotel dining room and brief him about the trip. On the other hand, I knew little about Kashmir’s history at that stage, but did ask him about the tumultuous days when the raider columns were on a rampage and he was organising a local militia for the defence of Srinagar.

He said the incoming raiders had held themselves up looting and raping Hindu, Sikh and even Muslim girls and the fact that they went back to Muzaffarabad to deposit the loot, saved the city of Srinagar from a fate that even then made him shudder.

First time I heard of the Battle of Shalateng situated between Baramula and Srinagar was from Sheikh Saab, who said the raiders’ leadership was enjoying themselves shooting ducks at Hokarsar Lake, Maharaja Hari Singh’s private hunting reserve, which allowed the Indian Army to start its fly in.


I don’t recall what else I said to the CM, but Papa John called me to his cabin shortly thereafter and said you don’t go on and on about corruption, especially fishing licences, because now the fisheries guys were “annoyed” with us. He also told me not to tell Sheikh Saab that the villages were in such abject poverty that they were ripe for a Che Guevara. “You think he needs to hear it from you? He knows all this.” I sulked for a while, but when Sheikh Saab called me again for breakfast, Papa John just conveyed the message without comment, his eyes imploring me not to make an ass out of myself or Tiger Tops by extension!


Then a year later, Sheikh Saab died in September 1982. By then we had shifted our office from Nedou’s Hotel to a houseboat, the Star of Zanzibar, which was moored a hundred metres upstream of Zero Bridge. Dr Farooq Abdullah was at the time a Member of Parliament and he was in and out of England. He seamlessly took over as the new Chief Minister and “dynastic politics” made its advent into Kashmir. It hardly raised eyebrows since Mrs Indira Gandhi had succeeded Jawaharlal Nehru at the Centre and Indians had since been conditioned to accepting these things in their stride. To be fair, it wasn’t just the Abdullahs, the second generations of others were also lining up. Mufti Mohammad Sayeed and his brood would follow suit, and so would many other with lesser pedigrees.


Not surprisingly, within seven years, Kashmir was ripped apart. Just exactly what happened, who did what to whom, it’s a well-known sordid story. The Centre, the State, they were all involved, each one quite willing to sleep with the enemy to achieve their short-term objectives. Watching from the side-lines, it was quite obvious what was happening and yet, no one who was entrusted with the well-being of the people, was willing to step up to the plate. Kashmir always was a political problem, not a military one. I happened to be in Srinagar in 1989, my wife and I having dinner at a friend’s house near the TRC when the first bomb went off. In the subsequent mayhem, gradually the para-military and the Army got more and more sucked into the Valley. It reminded me of the lines from the popular song “Hotel California”, “You can check-in any time you like, but you can never leave.”

                                  

Eagles - Hotel California

                          [   https://youtu.be/EqPtz5qN7HM ]


THE STORY MEANDERED AWAY


Five years later, filming with the Army, I realised the story had meandered far far away, developing a sordid “tail” of its own that was now wagging the dog. The fighting was bitter, desperate at times, where hiding behind civilians the first shots would invariably come from nowhere, and then hell would break loose. During the 30 days I spent with the Army in the Valley (apart from the four with the Hizbul Mujahideen), so many times suspects were apprehended who were known to be fringe cases—basically those not yet caught with a weapon. They would be handed over to the police, but even before the tired and exhausted troops could make it back to their camps, these guys would be released presumably under pressure from the top. After all, if you ask Pakistan to 

                         “bum maro aur goli barsao” 

their wards had to be looked after.


Some of the Gao Buras at Hunli on 2 February 2011. They had been visited by the Governor and addressed by Dr Farooq Abdullah the previous day.


Casualties mounted, soldiers and people died. I doubt if there is anyone in the country today who is not touched by the tragedy that began to unfold in Kashmir that saw new benchmarks of cruelty. Everyone was a victim, be it the local Muslim population, Kashmiri Pandits, Hindus, Sikhs or even in some cases foreigners. Pakistan, with the perennial support of China, kept the pot boiling. While the CRPF, RR units and the Army fought day and night, the people of Kashmir struggled to walk the tightrope between gun-toting thugs and the security forces. Everyone seemed affected, but one could not help but feel that those who could do something were particularly interested in a political solution. 
“Bum maro aur goli barsao…tokri bhar ke paisa ayega! (Keep the firing going…money will come).”


Just how pathetic the situation was can be gauged from the fact that in 1990, 13 unarmed people were gunned down from a moving car. Four of them, IAF personnel including Squadron Leader Ravi Khanna, were killed while the other nine were wounded. The incident happened at a time when there was Governor’s Rule in the state. 

Almost everyone knew that the man responsible for the killings was Yasin Malik, the founder of the Jammu and Kashmir Liberation Front (JKLF), who was also involved in the kidnapping of Rubaiyya Sayeed, the daughter of the then Union Home Minister Mufti Mohammad Sayeed.

Yet, he would go on to emerge as an important cog in the state’s politics.


Finally, when Malik bragged to a TV channel in 2019 how he had killed the Air Force personnel, charges were finally filed against him and he now awaits trial in Tihar jail. As they say in golf, one of Dr Abdullah’s favourite sports, in Kashmir that seems par for course! In the meantime, last week in a statement the National Conference, People’s Democratic Party, Congress, CPI(M) all reiterated their demand for reverting to the special status of J&K as it existed on 4 August 2019. The wheels of the  circus continue to churn on…!

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Shiv Kunal Verma is the author of “1962: The War That Wasn’t” and “The Long Road to Siachen: The Question Why”.

This is the second of a six-part series on Kashmir. The first part, Nights without end: Four days with the Hizbul Mujahideen was published on 23 August.



VOICES

HIGH DRAMA

I knew the footage related to the Hizbul Mujahideen had been shot by Shiv Kunal Verma as it had formed the backdrop to his Kargil film, but was not aware of the story behind how he had shot it. During the war, he had wandered into my headquarters and spent some time with me, before heading off nonchalantly to film the troops in action all along the front, operating later mainly with the neighbouring 3 Infantry Division. Nights Without End (23 August) is a fascinating article by a writer who now gives a first hand and somewhat chilling account of how the game was being played in the Valley. Though on the face of it the Kashmir story appears to be a complicated maze, at a very basic level the actual narrative needs to be put out for our people, both in and outside Kashmir, to know what the ground reality was and is.

Lt Gen Mohinder Puri (Retd), Former GOC 8 Mtn Division



KASHMIR OF THE EARLY 1990s

Shiv Kunal Verma, in his seminal piece last week, recalled his experience of being inside a Hizbul Mujahideen (HM) lair in 1995. Such episodes in the life and times of a journalist and photographer come rarely. Those were difficult times; many times more dangerous than what one can imagine of the situation today. A proxy sub conventional conflict had been initiated by Pakistan using its experience in the war against the Soviets in Afghanistan. It switched east in 1989 exploiting the restiveness in the local Kashmiri population. True to style the Pakistani establishment wasn’t working to any set piece plan. Yet initiation was done in fairly masterly style, as has been the Pakistani penchant, and the emerging deep state there was monitoring the outcome of it. The virtual genocide of Kashmiri Pandits in early 1990 was for the Pakistani establishment a confirmation that its strategy of converting the Kashmir conflict from political to a deeply religious one would fetch it dividends. Thus, while the local passion seemed flagging in less than two years, the ISI used the religious colour to recruit Islamic mercenaries rendered unemployed from the war in Afghanistan. The Indian Army encountered till the mid-1990s a myriad collection of jihadis from Central Asia, Afghanistan, Middle East and even North Africa. These were the in-disciplined and merciless fighters who had no qualms about treating the local population with great disdain. Rape was the most common phenomenon as many a Kashmiri woman suffered at their hands. Unable to control them but yet appreciative of the turbulence they were creating, Pakistan’s deep state engineered allegations of human rights violations against the Indian security forces (SF) as a diversion. This too was done in an extremely effective manner using the deep linkages Pakistan had developed in the US diplomatic and security set up due to the proxy operations in Afghanistan. That is how India was almost “on the mat” at Geneva in June 1994. It was a rare cooperative effort of India’s political community that saw the passage of the Joint Parliamentary Resolution on 22 February 1994 and the consensus led decision to send a Congress-BJP-NC delegation to Geneva to fight and defeat the human rights allegations against India.


The Indian efforts were not just weapon on weapon attritional strategy; a fair degree of manoeuvre was on display as Indian SF, at the instance of the Army, embarked on creating counter groups. The experience with these in Operation Pawan (Sri Lanka) had not been very successful, but the decision to win over the Ikhwan ul Muslimeen and establish two groups to assist in operations, liaison and establishing a better relationship with the public was, in principle, a sound one. Kuka Parray in North Kashmir’s Hajen and Liaqat Ali’s Anantnag based group did yeoman service for the nation. However, as is wont to happen, a bitter tirade against them by the local media and some actions inconsistent with their mission led to marginalisation of their efforts. Many sacrificed their lives but were later absorbed into the Territorial Army unit raised for this purpose. In 2019, the unit even won an Ashok Chakra posthumously. The early 1990s were not just about Pakistani initiatives in the irregular war that was shaping. India’s greatest success was the raising of the Rashtriya Rifles (RR), which proved to be the finest military experiment in many years. The RR freed up the rest of the Army to continue the actions on the LoC. Being fully olive green in orientation and placed under the Army’s formations it has evolved into one of the best counter terror organisations in the world.

Lt Gen Syed Ata Hasnain (Retd), Chancellor of Central University of Kashmir