DROP DEAD GORGEOUS

Zareef Ahmed Zareef*

I humbly convey to my dear reader that I, one of seven siblings, am the heir to an eminent, honourable, brave and artistic business family based in the Valley of Kashmir. My primary education took place in Islamia High School, Nusratul Islam, Srinagar. Among my early teachers were Professor Rahman Rahi and Abdul Sattar Shahid. Professor Rahi taught us Persian while Sattar Sahab taught us Urdu prose. Both encouraged me in the fields of speaking and writing which helped me in my poetic and personal life. When young people today hear me recite poetry, they think such Kashmiri vocabulary, which I use in my writing, came naturally to me. But what they miss is that it took years of hard work to attain a finesse with my mother tongue which I feel every Kashmiri should strive for.

My mother’s maternal home was near Jamia Masjid. My political education was generally from my father’s side, and my moral and religious education was generally received from my mother’s side. My mother, Mukhta Aapa, was intimately connected with the Jamia Masjid. My ancestors had run a famous factory at Zaina Kadal, which is in the heart of the historic downtown Srinagar. This factory housed some famous artists of traditional Tila Dozi (silk and gold needlework). My great grandfather, Mohammad Shah Maldaar, the owner of this establishment, had himself been a painter and skilled master of Tila Dozi. During the time of the Dogra rulers, Raj Dhar, son of Birbal Dhar, was made Hukumdhaar. He was instrumental in raising the tax on local handicraft from rupees two lakh to sixteen lakh. He launched the Daag Shaal department whose office he headquartered at Saraaf Kadal. A shawl could only be sold if it had received the seal of the Daag office. Without the seal, the shawl was considered counterfeit. Despite working in abysmal conditions, the artisan had to pay six annas as tax.

Mohammad Shah Maaldar was one of the kaarkhandars (master craftsmen) at this time. Along with other kaarkhandars like the Chikans, Hajis, and one Abdullah Bhat, he came to the conclusion that there was not enough profit in the shawl business, thanks to these cruel policies. The taxation policy was so harsh that many weavers cut the tips of their fingers so that they would be considered disabled and allowed to do other work through which they could earn a decent sum of money. Eventually, they began to leave Kashmir under the cover of darkness along with the karigars (artisans) via the Jhelum Valley Road through Tangmarg, crossing the mountains and reaching Poonch and finally Amritsar. One of my great grandfather’s apprentices, Mohammad Abdullah Khan, reached Amritsar after passing through difficult and treacherous routes. I was five or ten years old when I met him, and listened to him talk about the conditions of the route and Amritsar. He would speak of how the Kashmiris in Amritsar had created for themselves a Kashimiri environment.

At that time, Amritsar was the centre for Kashmiris from Lahore and Sialkot, just as today after the partition of India, Delhi has become the centre of trade and commercial activities. Amritsar was then a ‘mandi’ of ‘maal’. Mohammad Shah Maaldar established his kaarkhan in Amritsar. Local people became associated with the shawl-weaving profession, and Amritsar ‘taeb’ (stitch) which was used to embroider the shawls came into being. Today, it is known as the Kashmiri taeb. In this manner, by migrating, many artisans and tradesmen escaped the cruelties inflicted by the Dogra ruler in Kashmir.

Sixty years ago, Kashmiris used to wear Pashmina ‘toaepi’ (skull cap), also known as khaetir toaepi. They were also made in Amritsar. We had contact with the members of our family who had moved to Amritsar for a long time. In fact, during Partition, many more Kashmiris moved to Amritsar, expanding the community there. Even though the history of Kashmir is intertwined with that of Amritsar, personally I have been there only once, in April 1985.

I had written a poem ‘Nazri Iqbal’ paying tribute to Allama Iqbal. I had been invited to Pakistan to read the poem by the Iqbal Academy, and I read it in WAPDA auditorium Lahore, under the chairmanship of Javaid Iqbal, son of Allama Iqbal. The poem was published and became very popular.

When Sheikh Muhammad Abdullah changed the Muslim Conference to National Conference (NC) in 1939, one of my uncles, Abdul Samad Shah, opposed the move. He became an active member of the rival Muslim Conference. My uncle was arrested and put in jail. When partition of British India happened in 1947, another one of my uncles set up a shop at Soibugh, on the outskirts of Srinagar. Since most of the salt used in Kashmir came from Pakistan, stocks were low and at times disappeared altogether. My uncle would bring Pakistani salt home in his pushcart for sale. The local NC workers would come to our courtyard and taunt us and hail the Sher-i-Kashmir. The womenfolk in the home would throw pieces of Pakistani salt at them from the windows of the upper storeys, trying to shoo them away.

The reason I am telling you this, dear reader, is to paint a picture of what was happening in the early days – of the politics, of how people perceived Pakistan as close to them and never thought of India in the same way.

In our kaarkhan in Srinagar, many cultural events ranging from musical sessions to political debates were arranged. It was in these circumstances that I matured politically. I would overhear discussions on Pakistan, and people would carry newspapers from across the ceasefire line, hidden under their pherans. One of these newspapers was Paighaam-i-Sullah (Message of Reconciliation). It was owned and published by Ahmedis, or Lahori Mirzais. There was another called Insaaf, which was published in Rawalpindi by one Abdul Aziz Mir. Mir had previously been connected to the Muslim Conference, because of which he had had to migrate to Pakistan during Sheikh Abdullah’s reign. Shiekh had made sure he exiled many Kashmiris who desired to join Pakistan. Mir was from Rambagh, Srinagar, and wrote a satirical column ‘Namak Paash’ in Prem Nath Bazaz’s Hamdard. Another newspaper, which used to come to Kashmir, was Kasheer, published by Abdul Samad Wani. He was a friend of Sonaullah of the Aftab newspaper. Aftab would be sent to Pakistan from Kashmir. This continued up to the beginning of the armed agitation in 1989.

The newspapers played a role in shaping the political consciousness of the time. Many people would assiduously read these papers. The truth is that the news and articles carried by those papers would resonate with the sentiments of the Kashmiri people. The very fact that these papers were not easily allowed into Kashmir by the government stirred interest in their content. It was a risk to be found reading them in public. On the other hand, newspapers published in Kashmir were officially sanctioned and had a clear bias towards the Indian government. Exposed to these contending views, my own understanding of Kashmir and its politics grew deeper.

In 1947, when India was partitioned, Sheikh Abdullah became the prime minister of Jammu and Kashmir. It was part of his political agenda to suppress dissent and send his political opponents into exile or prison. As he cracked down on his opponents, my uncle Abdul Samad Shah, who was part of the resistance, was jailed in the Central Jail in Srinagar. I grew up in a family, which, like many Kashmiri clans, was politically aware. Due to active protests against the government, I was also arrested in 1965 during Sadiq sahib’s chief ministership, and sent to the same jail for one month. I had been part of a crowd in Lal Chowk, which was shouting slogans. Our actions had been well received by the people, who even went so far as to cheer us.

Twenty-two of us were arrested that day, and the allegation was that we were showing the path to potential subverters of the state. Some of us were taken to a prison in Jammu, while I was taken to Khoja Yarbal Central Jail, Srinagar, where I was placed in a ‘sangeen koaethir’ (isolated cell). These were set up during the time of the Dogra raja Pratap Singh, who ruled Kashmir from 1885 to 1925. There were fourteen of these koaethirs, but later each of them were divided into two with the result that there were twenty-eight of them now. For three days, I was kept here in utter solitude. I maintained my courage and survived. On the fourth day, I was brought to barrack number four, where I was kept with some twenty others. Here I met the well-known religious figure and trader Haji Ghulam Ahmad Naqqash or Amma Saeb Naqqash, Haji Jallalud Din who was a notable religious, social and political personality of Chrar-i-Sharief, and freedom lover Raja Jahangir Khan. This barrack was reserved for detainees who were religious and gentle people and different from ordinary criminals. I was with them for one month. These notable people used to teach me about their faith, as well as recall the miseries and suffering inflicted on the people of Kashmir in days past.

Outside the prison, a legal cell had been set up to help with the release of the prisoners. I was brought before the judge, the late Mirza Saifud Din. I recall that the government advocate was the cruel Ali Mohammad Wattail. I asked the judge if he could tell me why I had been arrested. He raised his head and in a severe tone asked me how I did not know my own crime after having committed it. I told him that I had not committed any crime, and so remained ignorant of my charges. In response, he pointed towards the police officer who had arrested me. His name was Ghulam Mustafa Drabu, aka Mussa Draeb. He was at that time the station house officer of Khanyar police station. He informed me that I had violated Section 144. I told him that if Section 144 had been enforced, how come there were protests and processions in Srinagar, and how had the people reached Srinagar? He said that it had been enforced on the very day I was arrested. I asked what time it had been implemented. He told me it had been implemented at 5 p.m. I told him that I had been arrested at 4 p.m. The answers irritated the officer and the judge. Wattail told me that I should keep my arguments to myself, and this was not the place for them.

The police officer then told me that had I not been arrested, the peace and tranquility of my surroundings would have been at risk. I asked him whether I were such a huge danger to the government, how many bridges had I burnt, how many kidnappings had I committed and how many people had I murdered? I told the judge that the court was nominal and counterfeit.

The judge was furious and asked the police to release me. Outside, the police officers asked me who had taught me to speak like that. I told them that truth is light, and no one can obstruct it for long. I was fined two hundred rupees, back when a kilogram of meat cost two and a half rupees. Under the Defence of India Rules (DIR), we were paid three rupees in prison.

Sheikh Abdullah had been the undisputed leader of the Kashmiris in the 1930s, but when he came to power in 1947, an atmosphere began to be created where many atrocities were committed against his political opponents. Precisely because of this, Bakshi Ghulam Mohammad, who came to power in 1953 and who had a considerable hold on the psyche of the Kashmiri people, put in place policies that tried to reverse the antagonism created by the Sheikh. He tried to fulfil the requests people made to him. He set himself up in sharp contrast to the Sheikh. It was during his time that Islamia High School, the educational hub of Kashmiri Muslims, was burnt as part of a conspiracy. He wanted to rebuild the school to win sympathy and build his support base. At that time, I was in seventh grade.

Bakshi’s idea was that by rebuilding the school, the Muslim Conference people, who were also known as the ‘bakras’, would be brought under his influence. Since this school was an important educational and cultural institution, he believed repairing it would bring the population close to the ruling class. Bakshi’s belief was that the reconstruction of this historical institution would draw emotional support for his own political party.

Sheikh Abdullah was thrown out of power and into the jail for eleven years under the orders of Dr Karan Singh. It happened because he had fallen out of favour with New Delhi. In 1964, when Sheikh was released from prison, he was welcomed in Islamabad. I was invited by the local unit of the Plebiscite Front to Islamabad, where a stage had been set up for him. Abdul Majeed was conducting the proceedings. Ghulam Nabi Kochak, Ghulam Rasool Kochak, Ghulam Muhammad Shah, Ali Shah Store, Mirza Afzal, Sufi Mohammad Akbar were also present. I had written a poem ‘‘Raai Shumari’ (plebiscite) which I read in the presence of the Sheikh.

Here is the poem in translation from Kashmiri:

We are all together asking Bharat

Acknowledge our right to self-determination

Witness to this Right are all world leaders

The two countries of Hind and Pak became free

From the UN both got a summons

You have to give Kashmiris right to self-determination

Nehru raised a hue and cry there

Pakistan sent the tribals

Once the tribals are out, ‘they’ will be given the rulership

Our right is Plebiscite

Bharat sent here the bombarding army

They chased away the tribals

Maharaja Hari Singh fled away in night

India wrapped itself around Kashmir

Sikh army first killed the National Conference people

Nehru kept on lulling Sheikh

Army was spread over all parts here

The promise of the world was forgotten

So many resolutions were presented

Bharat swept them all with her cunning

How much brain was wracked by the people from across the border.

Sheikh could barely survive six years

Bakhshi was brought

With some conditions he was given the crown

The Permit system was lifted

For about eleven years he was also used

Weaving a web, the cunning continued

When Kashmiri leaders apprehended

With trickery Bharat broke in like a thief

Plebiscite Front was announced