Valley goes back a century in winter, people are happy to be alive

Valley goes back a century in winter, people are happy to be alive
MUZAMIL JALEEL

SRINAGAR, FEBRUARY 1: There is no water. There is no electricity, except for two hours a day. There are no public telephone booths open in the evenings. There is virtually no traffic after dark. And no government offices are open, because of protracted employees' strike.

Srinagar is in a state of forced winter hibernation, a city of cave-dwellers who huddle around woodstoves, delay waking up, go to bed early and clutch their kangris or charcoal hand-baskets when they must go out on an errand.

The people here maintain an air of weary acceptance, but are also uneasy. At any moment, there can be another suicide-squad attack on an Army camp, bringing down the wrath of the security forces. Fear has returned with the comeback of militancy to the Kashmir Valley.

At bus stops, passengers must jump down and wait in the cold, while soldiers check their ID and frisk the men. Then they must hurry after the bus and file back on again. Sometimes, this routine is repeated three or four times on one trip.Tension pervades the dark, deserted streets.

And yet, the increase in violence -- as well as the exceptional hardships of daily living this winter has brought -- seem to have aroused little reaction from those it affects the most: ordinary Kashmiris.

``People have accepted it as their fate. Nobody is ready to protest against it,'' a Kashmir University lecturer said. ``The feeling in Kashmir is jaan bachi tu lakhoun payee -- meaning if life is saved, every other thing is secondary,'' he said. In the early 1980s, he recalled, a hike in electricity tariffs set off a major riot here and eight people died when police opened fire on a protesting mob. But that was before tens of thousands of people had been killed in the insurgency, before the populace had become numb to death and loss.

Another reason for the seeming lack of concern is that in contrast to the early 1990s, when most militants were local Kashmiris and many of their neighbours knew when and where the next attack might occur, the revivedmilitancy is much more secretive and invisible. Many of its members are no longer from the Valley and no one knows who they are.

``Now the identity of the militants is exposed only after their death," said Abdul Raheem, who sells vegetables in Batamaloo. No one had any idea, for example, that one of the militants who carried out a suicide attack in December on the headquarters of the Special Operations Group (SOG) in Srinagar was a local boy from Bemina colony.

In the past, Raheem added, ``You would get a prior warning that the militants are going to attack near your house or shop. Thus, you could at least flee for your life. But now it is impossible. These attacks are as big a surprise to us as they are to the security forces. Who knows who these Abu-Tulhas and Abu-Maviyas are? It's a mystery.''

The combined intensification of violence, cold weather and malfunctioning public services have also made life more miserable for the security forces deployed in the Valley.

``We generally come from planes andhave never experienced such a chilling climate,'' said Suresh Kumar, a Border Security Force jawan in Srinagar. ``The phiran (woolen cape) the locals wear during the winters is itself a security risk, because the militants generally hide their arms and ammunition beneath it. A militant can take out a gun or a grenade in front of you, killing you before you even have time to think.''

The entire Kashmir Valley has been without electricity for the past three weeks since the militants allegedly blew up two towers and nature added to the shortage. This power scarcity has also created problems with the water supply, because the motors pumps from the reservoirs cannot function. As a result, people have taken refuge in age-old Kashmiri traditions and folk remedies. In addition to kangris, people are returning to hamams or stone-tiled rooms heated by wood fires. The dhan, a mud oven fed with firewood, is also back in fashion.

``We have started using our old dhan after around twodecades," said Faisal Ahmad, a doctor. "In this age of LPG stoves and heaters, who needs these things? Now we need firewood, which is expensive and unavailable. But thank God, our dhan had not been dismantled."