As the call for “azaadi” picks up momentum in the Kashmir Valley, young Kashmiris who have made a life and career for themselves in and around Delhi know where they want to be. They know azaadi will not get them jobs in Kashmir. And they don’t want to go back.
“No way will I go back,” says Afzal (name changed) who is in the hospitality business, owning a flourishing restaurant in a posh Delhi locality. “Go back and do what?” he says. In his late 20s, he spent his growing-up years in a boarding school. The stories he heard from his parents and grandparents were about a Kashmir that had ceased to exist several years ago. “The Kashmir my parents talk about was something I never saw. We left something that will never come back. My life is here. I have gained tremendously living in Delhi in terms of both family and property. I would not have been able to do so well financially had I stayed in Srinagar. If we had not moved out, I would have been sitting in some corner of a houseboat wearing a firan,” he says, smiling at the incongruity of the image given that he is a page 3 regular in Delhi’s social circuit.
But having said that, he adds, “Kashmir is in our blood, we cannot be separated from it. So here’s hoping that if azaadi does come about, we can get dual citizenship.”
For Javed, 45, (name changed) who is married to a non-Kashmiri and has two children, the issue of going back is linked with the practical nitty-gritties. “Azaad Kashmir will be a new country, it will take time to find its feet. It would take at least a decade for it to stabilise with its constitution, prime minister, government, ambassadors. At present there is no industry there, no business development. Going back would mean starting all over again for me. Idealism is all very fine and azaadi as a concept is great, but I do not see myself giving up all that I have achieved here. My business in Delhi is something I have created and I have done quite well for myself. I have been able to get international exposure and grown because of it. I honestly do not see myself going back,” he says.
“I will not go back unless someone actually holds a gun to my head or says that my family will be harmed if I do not return,” says Zainab, in her late 20s, who is a communications consultant and comes from one of Kashmir’s established families. “By leaving Kashmir because of the lack of opportunities there we have all lost and gained in equal parts. All of us who have left have lost our culture. But on an individual level, we have gained a lot in terms of money and professional growth,” she says.
For Majid (name changed) who runs a handicrafts business and whose wife is a doctor working in Delhi, it is a catch 22 situation. “Going back would be a disaster. There is no growth there. But we are also not treated like equals here. I have been trying to buy a house but as soon as it becomes clear that I am a Kashmiri Muslim, I find doors shutting in my face. While individually, most people I have interacted with have treated me well, it is the collective that reacts like a stereotype. Eighty per cent of the strangers I come in contact with see me as a militant just because I am a Kashmiri Muslim. I was detained at immigrations at Mumbai and missed my flight. Later I came to know that the officer who detained me for no reason had lost his brother to militancy in Kashmir. It was not my fault, but I became to face of militancy for him. Yet, I do not think azaadi is the answer. We all have our karobar spread out in India and abroad. We cannot go back,” he concludes.
Amjad, (name changed) a photography student, says that he had not been inside a restaurant before he came to Delhi. “My friends taught me how to order from a menu, how to talk to girls. In Srinagar, we were not allowed to go out after 6 pm. Here, I go for movies at 10 pm. My flat, which I share with three others is like a mini-India — one flat mate is from Haryana, one from Bihar and one from Bangalore. I am desperately looking for a job here. I cannot go back,” he says.
“What the f**k will I do if I go back? My career is here,” said Arshad, (name changed) a young Kashmiri mediaperson.
As more and more Kashmiri youth find their careers and the attendant fame and fortune outside the valley, the idea of azaadi for them seems to be more about having the freedom to live wherever they want rather than having the freedom to call Kashmir azaad.
What do you say: Should Kashmir be allowed to secede as some thinkers have suggested recently?
