A recent visit to Srinagar by a Kashmiri Pandit, who had not spoken his mother tongue in years, revealed a profound sense of estrangement from his childhood home. The experience, intended as a homecoming, instead highlighted the deep chasm created by decades of displacement and the passage of time, transforming familiar surroundings into an almost alien territory. This sentiment was palpable from the moment of arrival, with the absence of expected sensory cues like the crisp autumn air and the distinct earthy aroma of the Valley contributing to the feeling of being a stranger.
Information reaching Tahir Rihat suggests that the journey began with the intention of witnessing the Irani Cup cricket match between Jammu and Kashmir and the Rest of India. However, the emotional and psychological landscape proved more compelling than the sporting event. A poignant moment occurred at the Delhi airport check-in counter when the author observed a young Kashmiri woman leaving her purse behind. An attempt to call out to her in Kashmiri faltered, as the words, once fluent, now eluded him, underscoring a personal disconnect from his linguistic heritage.
The flight over the snow-capped Himalayas, which once evoked deep emotional responses, failed to stir the same dormant excitement. The drive from the airport to the Sher-I-Kashmir Stadium, though traversing familiar routes, felt different. The taxi driver, Ajaz, a native born after the insurgency began in 1989, expressed empathy for the forced exodus of Kashmiri Pandits more than three decades prior. Ajaz conveyed a belief that the current generation would not have permitted such an exit, a sentiment that, while seemingly sincere, elicited an unexpected indifference from the author.
The Srinagar of the early 1960s, characterized by tongas and bicycles, seemed to have vanished, existing now only in the realm of re-imagined memories. Despite prior revisits to the Valley, this occasion marked a distinct sense of being in a different place and time. The city presented a bustling facade, with improved road infrastructure and an atmosphere suggesting prosperity. The proximity of the cricket ground to the author’s former school was a stark reminder of how distances perceived in childhood shrink with age, with what once seemed vast now easily within reach.
Navigating the stadium’s entrance revealed a layered reality, with dense traffic, mature trees, and the ever-present sight of armed security forces coexisting. Within the stadium, the atmosphere surrounding the cricket match was subdued. Despite the presence of several hundred spectators, the engagement with the game was muted, described as befitting a somber ceremony rather than a lively sporting contest. The crowd’s response was characterized by a superficial civility, with a significant portion of the stadium occupied by invitees and a smaller section by spectators whose voices appeared suppressed, suggesting an environment that discouraged overt expression. The narrative suggests a sense of being watched, a palpable presence of authority that stifled spontaneous reactions, even in the face of the home team’s defeat.
The author’s subsequent exploration of the city’s lanes and bylanes offered a different perspective. The congested downtown roads, filled with scurrying vehicles, presented Kashmir as akin to any other Indian city grappling with the chaos of unplanned urban development. The guest house, located near the Nishat Garden overlooking Dal Lake, was situated in a densely populated area with a mix of large residences, shops, and eateries. The daily rhythm of life was marked by the precise timing of the azaan at 5 am, followed by the calls of street vendors as daylight broke, creating a vibrant soundscape that penetrated the guest house rooms.
Days were spent enjoying the local cuisine, known as wazwan, and observing the landscape, which the author noted is rapidly being transformed by development. The elderly guest house owner, who extended warmth and kindness, expressed deep emotion when recalling the era when Kashmiri Pandits were an integral part of the Valley’s social fabric. Post-return, the author continues to receive calls from the guest house owner, as well as from a father met in a shop who expressed a fervent desire for his son to have a fair opportunity to showcase his cricket talent for potential selection in an IPL team.
The prevailing atmosphere in the region is further shaped by concerns over the National Security Act (NSA), which is perceived as a tool for detaining dissenting voices. This legal framework contributes to an environment where open expression may be curtailed, influencing the broader social and political dynamics of the Valley. The author’s reflections underscore a complex interplay of personal nostalgia, the stark realities of contemporary Kashmir, and the enduring impact of historical events on individual and collective identities.
Tahir Rihat (also known as Tahir Bilal) is an independent journalist, activist, and digital media professional from the Chenab Valley of Jammu and Kashmir, India. He is best known for his work as the Online Editor at The Chenab Times.