Paradise Paradox

The Kashmir Valley, surrounded by the majestic deep blue mountains seems like a peaceful, soothing place that you would go for meditation or get away from it all. However, the reality couldn’t be more different. There have been three days of bandh – or no work. All shops are closed, employees have a reason to be absent, schools are empty with the school children creating chaos on streets by throwing stones on cars. Outwardly, everything seems peaceful but deep inside, people feel desperate for change.
We visit the famous Kashmir University and it probably has the best location on the planet. There are separate blocks for each department – sociology, statistics, physics, biotechnology, kashmiri studies, etc. We walk in the lush green gardens surrounding them and in the backdrop are snow-clad mountains and the Dal lake. But, something seems missing. There are no people. Hardly anyone has turned up because of the bandh. No work. The Economics department is locked.
We leave the University and go to the Directorate of Industries. There, only one person has come and he expresses helplessness at the situation where no one has turned up at the office and he knows nothing about any studies that have been undertaken by the Directorate. He apologizes profusely because he cannot offer us water or tea as no peon has turned up. I write down my list of wanted studies and give this sheet to him knowing that it would end up in the bin when we leave.
The Deputy Director of Agriculture keeps accompanying me to the Directorates. He knows so many people that every five minutes the car stops to wish all his friends salaam walaikum. The links that people share (or social capital) is normally considered to be good for increasing growth. Ironically, here social capital seems counterproductive.
It is said that the devil resides in an idle mind’s workshop. I wonder if its true in Kashmir’s case. Our next stop is the Directorate of Agriculture. There we are greeted by the Director who has a large cabin with large curtains embroidered with floral patterns and a sign on his desk reads ‘Please be brief’. The Director, however, is garrulous. He explains why militancy happened and how people started planting apples that had higher returns than normal crops such as rice and maize. The villages that had high incomes from apples (Sopor and Chhupaya) also had a lot of militancy. But people had stopped building housing and there was little long term fixed investment. The political situation was bad – in 1987 – apparently the elections were rigged, that resulted in several locals escaping to POK for training and when they returned – all hell broke lose.
Then we go into the Deputy director’s office and a crowd of 8 people sits down and start chit-chatting in Kashmiri talking about inane things and sipping tea. I keep making notes on their (lack of) working habits and ask to leave for lunch. On the way back, we see children throwing stones at cars passing by. We are lucky to escape. The driver tells me that each kid is paid Rs. 50 to throw stones.
The next day, we go to the Directorate of Economics and Statistics – here 3 people have turned up out of a 100. We are led into the surveys section – where there are dusty files in dusty cabinets waiting to become dust themselves. There is only one person (Abdul Rashid) here who looks suspiciously at me. He asks questions to assess if I really need data. He talks like he is guarding a treasure and only he knows the password. ‘You will not get this data anywhere else but here’ he explains. ‘But you must come day after tomorrow when there are more people here’. On telling him that I will be leaving that day, he says he cannot help me. But I am persistent. Eventually, he tells me that he is doing a big favour by giving me some books that I need to return tomorrow. On their return, if he is in office tomorrow, I will be given the rest. His offer is conditional. He asks me if I can write a letter on an LSE letterhead to issue the books, takes my card, says he is really trusting me and I must return these books tomorrow. I take my treasure (that looks like it has been dug from underground) and run into the car. I take photos of about 200 pages that I can use later. The following day, I return the books and he is not there. However, I go to the Director General and tell him to help me and he asks the Librarian to give me the rest of the books. The Library is dark and empty with the Librarian chatting with a couple of other employees. I ask for the books and he says that I cannot take them from the library. I plead with him but to no avail. So I photograph about 600 pages in the next 6 hours in the dingy library while the librarian engages in mindless banter with the other employees who are wearing a kurta.
On my way back, I wonder if the attitude of the officials and the state of Kashmir are somehow linked. The culture of laziness pervading the lives of locals, the feeling of being oppressed by those in power, the lack of opportunity and the sense of being treated as second-class citizens in their own homeland all seem to be inter-related.