It is uncanny and heartbreaking that on April 18, I was at the very same spot in Pahalgam in Kashmir’s Anantnag district where terrorists struck on April 22, killing at least 26 people – Indian tourists, a visitor from Nepal, and a local pony handler.
The tragedy unfolded as the conflict-ridden state saw a record arrival of tourists. I was happy to witness the booming tourism industry and equally enthralled to see welcoming Kashmiris eke out their livelihood amid a near-normal state of affairs.
I had endured an arduous pony ride, about 5 kilometers uphill, amid flowing streams, slippery rocks, and treacherous terrain to see India’s “Mini Switzerland,” known locally as the Baisaran Valley. I was concerned about the lack of paramedics, emergency preparedness, and rescue missions in case of an accident while riding uphill, much less a terrorist attack. Not a single security force personnel guarded the place, which was a reminder of how much the government in New Delhi believed its own narrative – that peace has returned to the Kashmir Valley.
That narrative was a myth now shattered.
My last visit to Jammu and Kashmir was in 2006, for field research in Kishtwar, Doda, Jammu, and Srinagar. At the height of militancy, Srinagar resembled a fortress, dotted with countless security checkpoints. People hardly ventured out and life ended very early in the evening. It was an eerie feeling to stroll alone on the magnificent Dal Lake or take a shikara (small boat) ride. As I landed in Srinagar this time around, almost two decades later, I witnessed a perceptible change. Hotels and restaurants had mushroomed and were flourishing with good business as hordes of tourists had started coming in.
As I took a shikara ride on Dal Lake on a rainy and windy evening (the same day another shikara had capsized due to strong winds), the lake was buzzing with activity, with shikaras transporting tourists to hundreds of houseboat. The tulip garden in Srinagar – the largest in Asia – was brimming with raucous tourists. There were plenty of paramilitary forces around, but no check posts. At the heart of Srinagar, Lal Chowk, a site of many past terror attacks, was booming with economic activity. Shops remained open until midnight and it wasn’t hard to find an auto rickshaw to any part of town, albeit at a high fare. Everyone maximized their profits, as is prudent in any conflict theater, as no one really knows what the future holds.
Finding a table at the famous Ahdoos restaurant, which serves local delicacies on a platter – Wazwan – was a challenge. The generous meal came with a “do not share” notice. The server, however, helped suggest a way to overcome the hurdle by ordering an additional à la carte item. Kashmiris can be conservative about preserving their customs, as well as accommodating at the same time – they find a way to work around things as part of their hospitality. The key is to be respectful of their ethos and culture.
It makes one wonder if that model would have worked better for the security and policy wonks who are trying to build a strong counterterrorism grid and greater assimilation in that region. Any integration with the rest of India, if it is to be successful, has to evolve gradually and organically.
During my long drives to the tourist destinations of Pahalgam and Sonamarg, the cab drivers unabashedly provided insights into “how things are on the ground.” This has been my standard information gathering practice in every country I have visited, particularly in Afghanistan and Pakistan. It’s an important tool of social and human interaction that provides rare glimpses of the undercurrents. While most seem content with the surge in tourism and economic opportunity, others feel their special rights were taken away, leaving them without much respect or value. A sense of alienation prevails amid the lack of alternatives, with the local leadership failing them. One driver put it succinctly, if not with exasperation: “All are thieves – from the minister (mantri) to the security personnel (sentry),” referring to the levels of corruption at different levels of state machinery.
Amid putting the onus on external sponsorship and local support for militancy, New Delhi is grappling to find the right method to end the conflict in Jammu and Kashmir. I was told during my earlier visit that the people of Kashmir want education, jobs, and economic development like the rest of India, which still resonates today. Fatigue and disillusionment had set in, with leaders sitting safely in their homes, and ordinary Kashmiris left to the mercy of the militants and apathetic state institutions. Over the decades of conflict, thousands of Kashmiris have lost a lot, including their eyesight and limbs. They have, indeed, largely distanced themselves from separatist organizations, realizing the futility of endless violence, death, and destruction.
The Pahalgam attack has yet again started a vicious debate on social media and most television channels. The terrorists may have attempted to draw a dividing line between the Muslims who are a majority in Kashmir and the Hindus who are a majority in the rest of the country. It is up to the policymakers not to fall into such a trap. As argumentative experts try to shed light on the brutal terrorist attack using a communal and religious lens, it will be useful to listen to the voices of the people in the valley, who want greater interaction and integration with India and not isolation.
In the Baisaran Valley, when I was admiring the sheer beauty of nature, a shawl seller who was desperate to sell his wares struck up a conversation. As I bought his shawls to help him start his earnings for the day, he told me about the hardships people face beyond the popular tourist destinations. Remote villages in the hills that have not benefited from the fruits of development and infrastructure projects remain alienated, if not hostile. He had a differing, if not a more grounded, version of politics than the taxi drivers who are banking on the tourists to survive.
As I was leaving Srinagar, the number of security checks before one enters the airport reminded me of my earlier visit, where the checks were far too many and intrusive. It was a premonition of things to come. Behind the veneer of normalcy, there is a lurking danger. It’s hardly a surprise that the security forces who were watching from every nook and corner missed the forest for the trees. Without much local interaction and normalization, they stand apart as mannequins of state power. An eyes and ears on the ground approach would mean more interaction as a tool of gathering human intelligence. While The Resistance Front (TRF) terror group has claimed responsibility for the Pahalgam attack, a clear identification of the terrorists and the attack mode denotes an intelligence failure.
Conflict stabilization requires a deeper understanding of the local dynamics and sifting through this array of local opinions while addressing the drivers of conflict. New Delhi has promised the harshest of consequences for the perpetrators of the Pahalgam attack and their sponsors. While that may be music to the ears of some, any counterterrorism strategy will require a humane and culturally sensitive approach to bring long term peace and stability. Beyond optics, there is a need to get back to the blackboard to make the right strategic choices. Disproportionate use of force and knee-jerk reactions are a recipe for instability, if not a dive into the abyss.