There are some clichés that I don’t mind repeating. In my childlike optimism, I believe that the act of diligent and dogged repetition will somehow compel a stubborn situation to change.
I am waiting for that day when not only pilgrims, poets, politicians and peace-builders but all kinds of citizens from India and Pakistan can freely visit each other’s country. At the moment, this possibility looks distant because of the hawkish behaviour on both sides. However, the night can last only so long. It has to, eventually, make way for day.
Two weeks ago, Attiya Dawood - the celebrated feminist poet from Karachi - was in Mumbai. In the last few months, such visits by Pakistani writers and artists have become quite rare. It was, therefore, an opportunity that was more special than it would have otherwise been. Dawood was here to participate in the Max Mueller Bhavan’s Poets Translating Poets festival. Of the four Pakistani poets invited to Mumbai, she was apparently the only one who got a visa.
Pakistani poet and feminist thinker Attiya Dawood was in Mumbai recently
On the two occasions that we met, I was struck by Dawood’s sharp, spontaneous humour. She seemed like someone who doesn’t take herself too seriously, and is comfortable cracking jokes about herself. I do not follow Sindhi, the language she writes in, so she translated her verse for me in Urdu. It was a pleasure to witness her reading her own work, with a mix of pride and the look that says, “This is actually not that good, you’re just being nice.”
What I found most memorable were her narration of the love legends of Moomal Rano and Sassi Punhu, her description of the Waee singers at Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai’s mazaar in Bhitt Shah, her recollections of a friendship with the Pakistani poet Sara Shagufta and her vivid memory of a delightful meeting with the late German scholar Annemarie Schimmel. There is something electric about evenings like these. One is acutely aware of how unreal they seem, given the political conflict between India and Pakistan, yet one wants to hold on to every fragment of friendship that is possible.
Chinar trees in Kashmir
When Kashmiris tell me that peace initiatives over decades made no difference to their lives, I cannot ignore their criticism
I’ve heard many Indians and Pakistanis say that exchanges like these are useless because they play no role in de-escalating the conflict. I tend to disagree, emphasising that we must explore all routes to engaging with each other. However, when Kashmiris tell me that peace initiatives over the decades have made no difference to their lives, I cannot ignore their criticism.
I visited Srinagar last month. It was an experience that I struggle to write about because the place was unlike anything I have experienced before. Though drunk on the beauty of the gorgeous chinar trees, I felt utterly pained by the sight of what India and Pakistan have done to the people of Kashmir. In their long-drawn tussle over this coveted territory, they have cared little about the lives of common people who have suffered and continue to suffer.
When I looked into the eyes of the apple-sellers in the streets and the fish vendors on the sidewalks, it hit me that they were paying the price for an almost-war being fought in my name and yours. People like us who have scant understanding of the hardships that Kashmiris face are thumping their chests with incredible fervour, claiming possession over a land soaked in blood.
Their suffering has made many Kashmiris angry, bitter, despondent and cynical but they continue to fight for freedom. What this freedom would look like means different things to different people, and that is a no-brainer.
Kashmiris, like other people in the world, are a diverse group. It would be silly to imagine that freedom means the exact same thing to each one. I wish we’d learn to back off, and let them speak, instead of appropriating their struggles.
If you ask me for my take on what freedom should look like in Kashmir, I would direct you to the Kashmiris. Ask them - all of them, not just the voices you are comfortable hearing.
Chintan Girish Modi is our Mumbai-based columnist who loves ajrak and alubukhaaray ki chatni. He tweets at @chintan_connect
