Kashmir...part 2

At the time of Indian independence, Kashmir was a princely state under the autocratic rule of Maharajas who bought it from Britishers. Kashmiris were fighting the Dogra usurpation and Maharaja signed the ‘Instrument of Accession’ with India on fear of losing Kashmir to Pakistani tribals.
India took Kashmir issue to the United Nations where Security Council resolution asked for plebiscite for determining the fate of Kashmir and vacation of Pakistani Occupied part of Kashmir by Pakistan. But was that feasible or in favor of Kashmir when an option of independent nation was taken out on Pakistani insistence? No matter even that resolution on plebiscite never saw the light outside the UN head quarters.
The relative silence till 80’s was a result of broader role of democracy that kashmiris may have hoped and preferred over feudal Pakistani regime, but that didn’t last longer. Scrapping of autonomy, which had given Kashmir a relative independent status; broken promises and finally rigged elections, triggered a rebellious revolt. Pakistan was again in the scene with a support in the form of ammunition, training camps and men of faith from Afghanistan, Sudan or their own country. The innocent Kashmiris that always knew the only path of mutual existence, compassion and love were now up with the artillery to fight for their rights of freedom and self determination. This was something inconceivable for an ethnicity which was inherited through seers and saints. In the armed struggle, Kashmir lost millions of its innocent lives. Millions of families were affected and the Pundits who were the integral part of their co-existent nature left en mass, polarizing the society and giving the struggle a color of religion. Indian forces showed a brutal resistance on being given free hand to combat. Kunan Poshpora incident of 23rd feb. 1991, which witnessed the rape of more than 53 women including a 9 year old child and an 80 year old lady by Rajputana rifles of Indian army, to Shopian double rape cum murder case in May 2009 by CRPF saw several such unending examples of rape and molestation of women which was silently observed or ignored by the world community. Sopore massacre of Jan 1993 and setting up on fire of local houses and businesses, where 55 civilians were killed in indiscriminate firing on locals by Border Security Forces; Massacres like Tengpora on march 1, 1990; Gawkadal on Jan 21, 1990 killing 55 civilians; Handwara on Jan. 22, 1990 killing 26, indiscriminate firing on the procession carrying the body of Mirwaiz Molvi Farooq on May 21, 1990 in Srinagar killing 76 people, burning alive of 47 people on setting the Lal Chowk locality of Srinagar on fire on April 10, 1993, Bijbehara massacre of oct 1993 where firing on a peaceful protest lost 43 civilians and injured hundreds are few examples on the tip of Kashmiri memories. Fake encounters like those of Pathribal on March 25th 2000 and the fake enquires which showed DNA fudging have never been uncommon. In all this, the struggle by Kashmiris for their rights and against the gross human rights violations has never been less genuine, but this Pakistani support casted Kashmir in a much darker light. World and the Indian public gave deaf ears to the happenings and the sympathy towards Kashmir’s was on the lower side. The reason for Indian public was always their men in uniform fighting for the country, and world was shown the picture through Indian prism.
Kashmir was deceived by lies and false hopes given by India and Pakistan. Pakistani support in raising the Kashmiri voice at the international level made Kashmir believe a friend in the neighborhood, forgetting those tribal men who on leaving Kashmir after attacking it left snatching even the Samavar (Kashmiri tea pot with a golden color handle) handles thinking it to be of gold. The interest in Kashmir was always there for everyone because of its richness, resources and beauty.

To be continued…..

Kashmir - the paradise lost

A university professor set an examination question in which he asked what the difference between ignorance and apathy is. The professor had to give an A+ to a student who answered: I don’t know and I don’t care. Kashmir has been at a center stage of realms of crisis and one would wonder, with an intense sigh of grief, if the world around is ignorant or showing apathy. The current turmoil, apparently, seems to be a result of certain unfortunate incidents which lead to a cascade of civilian killings. A protest against the casualties was confronted by killing of more young people. An outbreak of rage of protests was tipped as instigated furore by Indian leaders at the centre. The state and centre governments acted like mute spectators to the on-going killings, and the statements hurled by the home minister of India makes one bite his nails. A hangover of finance ministry doesn’t seem to be over for him yet. Silence of opposition on the issue is not something inconceivable. Unfortunately, when it comes to something as big or as small as Kashmir, Indian politicians irrespective of party or ideology show solidarity to what they may call national interests. It is this silence, non-seriousness and unwillingness from the political fora that has been alienating the valley further. Scene of teenagers and youth, everywhere from north to south of this valley, daring to confront the armed forces who by their own words are being protected by a law sacred to them, tells the seriousness of things happening around. A stone thrown is always greeted by bullets or teargas shells ready to pierce the bodies that have not yet grown to the full bloom. The anger seen in the kashmiri youth on the roads is not something that has piled in these last two months or so. It has roots in the constant apathy and ignorance shown to their miseries by people who show more interest in their land than the inhabitants. The place which was known as heaven on earth or Switzerland of Asia may now reasonably be called Kosovo, Chechnya, Palestine, East Timor, Bosnia, Sierra Leone, Rwanda or Darfur of Central Asia. Caught in between three hostile countries which have always been facing her like hungry crocodiles swooping towards the food, Kashmir has been occupied by all these three nuclear powers. For one country, Kashmir is in its blood and for the other a part of its juglar vein, but the people in it was always an infection or suspected infection. A place which sees all the four seasons in its own charm - blanketed by snow in winter, maple leaves in autumn and greenery in spring and summers, Kashmir valley is now soaked in one color of blood in all the seasons. Men in uniform with sophisticated ammunitions and bunkers with gun nozzle holes, depressed and dismayed population, army camps, empty markets, charred buildings, crowded hospitals, congested graveyards, orphans, widows, parents, half widows, half orphans looking for disappeared beloveds, newspapers full of incidents of death and casualties, prisons fully occupied by youth is what defines the present day Kashmir.
Youth of Kashmir is frustrated and their alienation is aggravating the situation further. Born during the time when peace is something heard only in stories of very elders at home or just a little hope for the future, all that this youth could experience is the bloodshed and crisis torn surroundings.
To be continued….

Spiritual journey...

At times world seems to be a strange place and its inhabitants strangers… It is the time when we feel like running away, but understanding that the system is perfectly closed one, we end up getting frustrated or making our own selves understand that you are not the only one to face this… If you get up and fight, you are a winner otherwise a loser. I too faced such situations several times in life. Sometimes came out winner and most of the times a loser… This time again when I faced a situation like this, I thought of trying something different. I went to a place which was serene and peaceful. I kept asking Allah for peace… this time I thought of being His guest and ask it. Yes, I went to masjid and stayed there for two days. I took an auto and asked him to drop me near the biggest shopping mall of Delhi… Found a beautifully architectured huge masjid adjoining the lavish mall adorned by crowd, lights, noise etc. I switched off my cell phone at the entrance and entered the masjid. With a little hesitation, I stepped in… Little kids in a very good number, with round skull caps and dark green pathani suits were humming some recitations… A teacher, with same attire was sitting in between them like a scare crow for kids who seemed to deceive him with the single repetitive recitation and looking all around except their few page thick large text size book kept on the desk in front. At one corner I could find a young guy, cornered by around ten more guys, reading something from a book which was good enough to fetch their keen interest… I had two choices… either to sit with kids or this group. I preferred not to be distinct and recognized as intruder, therefore joined the later. The guy with a glib voice was talking something which I perceived as importance of charity. I was offered a glass of water which made me feel little more comfortable as a welcome guest. I took little less to be friendly with people around… heard them patiently, offered prayers and recited Holy Quran. I contributed some little cash to this group for food and got lunch, dinner, breakfast next morning with some refreshments in between which drived my taste buds crazy, since few guys, who offered their services and called it ‘Khidmat’, cooked food which tasted far better than Karim’s.

Everything seemed to be at peace… forgot the rest for sometime. I was a guest of the creator and I seemed to be taken well care of… good food, healthy ambience and no worldly worries… closed my eyes and opened to see that hours have passed in a moment… and I was allowed to take rest after lunch also. I wish I could carry this life outside the masjid also. Amir, a person leading the group – as he was called, insisted on Prophet’s (SAW) saying called ‘Hadith’, which calls on believers to consider whole world as masjid. I understood the real meaning of hadith inside the masjid. Lies, hypocrisy, jealousy, prejudice, deception was not a part of the lexicon. You feel thirsty and a guy sitting besides you would leave whatever he is busy with aside and get water for you even before you ask him.

Children, which were in the age group of 4 to 6, were delight to watch. I sat with them and their teacher, who is doing his post graduation from Delhi University, for long conversations which I will remember for a long time. Kids were from a very poor background and were propped by donations given by people coming to masjid. They learn Holy Quran in the morning and science in the evening. It was not the mother’s sweet voice that wakes them up in the morning but Mozin’s Azaan and a teacher’s stick with which their little feet were very familiar. The kids were so innocent that one of them couldn’t even control his urine reflexes and made a prayer rug wet during the obligatory prayers. They were being trained with scarce funding and volunteer teachers. The kids were getting trained to teach us and our new generations Holy Script and preserving that in their heart. These were the children who, if left on their families to prop them, would be most probably found on the traffic lights or tea stalls. They were learning life in a masjid… not even a full fledged madrasa… run by the money which we take out of our heavy pockets on Fridays as if somebody is holding a whip on our head. I peeped out in the afternoon to see kids playing on the road. An empty bottle thrown out on the road by a rich customer of a 5 star hotel, which has a common wall with the masjid, for these kids to play football.

Bitter gourd, bitter gourd, bitter gourd… manne ‘Karela’… a kid in one corner was preparing himself to avoid teachers stick in the evening. I asked him if he knows what bitter means and the prompt and innocent answer was ‘Karela’. Seeing a new face in the masjid interacting with them, they would more often come and shake hands with me. I had taken nothing much along, except Holy script with an English translation and footnotes, to gift these kids… A little innocent child, who reminded me of my nephew, came and sat beside me to offer prayers. It made me feel very good…the purpose I was there for. I felt Aaban praying with me and bowing to thank Allah. I wanted to gift him anything that would make him as happy as I was… took a pen out from my pocket and put it in his innocent little hands. The smile that I could see on his innocent face would have compelled me to buy the entire pen industry to see it last for ever. Late in the evening I saw this kid crowded by all other kids and each of them having a feel of his not so costly pen and the guy proudly divulging his possession.

I left the masjid late in the night with so many questions that made me feel more restless afterwards… Islam makes education obligatory for every muslim man and woman, but our education system is shambling since long years. Madrasas could never become universities or bigger institutes… instead we remained silent spectators when a stereotype image of madrasa as breeding ground for terrorism was made. Ain’t we party to this?? I remember the caretaker of Madrasa, near IIT, asking me to visit the kids and teach them sometime and see what all we have been doing there… but I never had time to do so. We always have time to point fingers. Why can’t we have good officers and educationists coming out of these places? This is our future generation and if we leave them on their own, we may have a good present but our future will be dark. Lets come forward and save the madrasa system which basically was made common by our ancestors for making education accessible to everyone which is better known as “Right to education”. A changing image of madrasas will certainly change the image that has been associated with our identity.

Blame me Not...

Life has so much to offer... Certain things we cherish and most we don’t... Reason in itself has much to say... We will blame something – this time the human nature. We are most of the time not happy with all we have and all we get... My marketing Professor says there is no genuine reason enough genuine to take the blame of failure ... I don’t know if he really means so and is ready to take the blame for all his failures in life. Circumstances do have their say in all that happens... “Make ur circumstances favourable to you, rather than allowing them to make you”, something like this, I faintly remember, is how Napolean used to command his army... I tried to change the direction of the wind using Napolean sir’s formula whenever swamped, but fizzled in an awkward predicament... sometimes blamed situations, sometimes people, sometimes things around and if nothing, then my luck was always ready to take the blame... but what to do when we are confronted by situations where blaming anything seems as difficult as the situation. My friend drudged hard to be a doctor and it was a dream come true for him and his parents. Everything was good till he found the profession doesn’t suit him... but it was too late to backtrack and too late to blame... What I want to write here is about this profession which my father always thought to be the noblest but still preferred his children to take any profession but this... The reason for him although was simple... He never wanted us to jump into the bandwagon... Everyone around wanted his or her child to be a doc’... some were intelligent or lucky enough to pass the entrance exam and some rich or unlucky enough to invest heavy bucks in private medical schools where returns on investment are in public health... M.B.B.S. seemed to be the only recognized degree and Non-medicos were treated as second citizens... students who didn’t take biology as subject were believed to be least capable... The impact has been evident on our economic, social and public life.
When Govt. Medical College in our state was set up, Principal faced a dearth of corpse for experiments... on that Chief Minister suggested him to send the first batch of students into practice as soon as possible and you will get unlimited number of them... The practice although is still rampant, as if they are still in search of dead bodies... The profession has everything but professionalism in it... With a business called insurance taking leaps in the modern world, the new business of corporate hospitals have found its way to common man’s pocket. Health as a business has subdued health as a right. The profession once characterized to be most baronial has proudly taken the attributes which ostensibly are everything but the qualities of this profession. People wearing white aprons have imbibed the untamed arrogance of Hebrews... Stethoscope around the neck seems to be there for reasons more than it is meant for...

I had a bitter experience of all this in the past year or so when I had to move from one hospital to another, and after one doc’ to another for my father’s treatment. I don’t know whether I should blame lack of ethics in the profession to the medical education in India or the people in the business. There were so many incidents each of which would be enough for someone in the developed country to sue the whole system... but in a country which is just dreaming to be in the race without realizing that achievements require something more than dreaming, we probably have to settle down with the blames till we forget the incident and get ready to bear the humiliation again. It was September of last year when junior doctors in my state went on indefinite strike leading already ailing health system of the state to deteriorate further. The demands might have been genuine but never genuine enough to violate the basic human right of health. Senior docs in the govt hospitals apparently managed emergency and day care centres and interns helped them. My father was to get treatment in the day care centre. The hospital is about 50 miles from our place and we reached early in the morning considering the crowd and strike. The condition of patients lying on the untidy beds and waiting in long queues for their turn in a hospital fully supported by government funds and WHO, would make even Hitler cry but not the officials. Everyone around except the concerned staff seemed to be concerned about the unhealthy and dishevelled condition of the hospital which was once thought to be a crown and pride of our state for its sophistication. After a long wait, with everyone’s eyes on the door, appeared a fat snobbish man, looking like a Colobus guereza in his late 40s, with white attire which seemed to be no less than king’s gown for the praja waiting for him...Trust me, his appearance was no less than Jahanpana’s tashreef... medical staff getting mobilized for nothing, some missing staff accompanying him like his ministers and even patients trying to stand up in his honour. Before Shahanshah could start his proceedings, he was interrupted by his council of ministers who took him along for a cup of tea which lasted for more than half an hour... Our turn took another half an hour. My narration of medical history of my father and some small suggestions offended the doc ‘ so much that he literary asked his staff to throw me out... I was in no state to resist knowing my position and my father’s condition. Doctor left and I came back... Medical attendant started injecting something in the drip and on my enquiry the reply was crisp... Shut your mouth and let me do my job. As the humiliation was not enough, interns too thought of showing their might. Discharge summary was prepared and the intern asked me to put that in the patient file, which even a non-medico like me considered something confidential. I did for the intern who was busy preparing for his PG exams and more so because I could not afford being thrown out again... medical staff was still around, although in a hurry to leave before the clock stuck 2 in the afternoon – time they had decided to say goodbye, and by now I knew their job very well. Lost in the horrendous situation that I was facing as an attendant with my father fighting his life, this doctor or would be a doctor started shouting at me... “Do U keep the papers like this in a file??? Till what class have you studied??” My fault, which I could understand, was that I didn’t punch the discharge summary... It may well be his frustration of not clearing his PG exams after appearing for them several times... He was in no mood to tell anything. All I could answer was that if this is taught in the medical books, then I am sorry I am not qualified enough... I wanted to cry and found a good reason to shed my tears in the corner. We left the hospital thanking God for junior docs to be on strike... Facing their frustration would have been another daunting experience.

I remember as a little kid, I had some petty skin problem... visible only to magnifying eyes of parents. They say problem is like a pregnancy and no one is less or more pregnant. I was taken to a famous dermatologist and we visited him in his hospital compound where he was passing the time by looking at clock to stuck the time he thought right to leave. .. but , as expected , he advised us to visit him in his private clinic for a proper check up. It took me long to understand that these so called thorough checkups actually mean paid checkups and can only be done in private clinics and hospitals. Long queues of medical representatives outside doctor rooms tell a grim and gloomy story in itself. Doctors proudly suggest where to get the medicine from if their clinics do not have medical shops to support their prescription... where to get diagnostic tests done, if diagnostics is not done in the clinic... Ophthalmologists’ in our town have their own optician shops and almost everyone visiting them is to come out with extra eyes... Thanks to my town ophthalmologist, I also wear specs. Dentists work out their way suitably enough for several more sittings for patients visiting them... Thanks to them, my cousin is well versed about the dental jargon, for they have vainly practised almost everything on his teeth... Surgical instruments left inside the body by surgeons, during those avoidable surgeries, are taken out in surgical resurgence... Prescription of high doses of low grade medicine ,which earn our life savers precious gifts, is rampant... One of the acquaintances was even given the pace maker for something which was later diagnosed as brain tumour... True relation between heart and brain which nobody knows better than our white aproned well wishers...

Stories are many, infact unlimited, but the better stories make us forget all bad ones... If we have a bunch of selfish professionals, we also have Munna bhais trying their best to regain the glory of the profession losing its shine with every passing day. People we still look up to... we still wish our children to be like... we still have faith that we are in safe hands. We still remember Dr. Ali Jan in my state and feel proud of the legacy he left behind. The problem seems to be in the changing tide we all blindly follow and docs took no exception. The only difference is that it made a direct impact on everyone around. There is a dilution of human values and character. My friends doing their research in the best Indian labs, adorned by sophisticated instruments bought from tax payers’ money, preferred sleep when I asked them to walk for cancer awareness and fund raising... They think they have been doing enough for cancer treatment in these labs... Never could I understand what these labs do for the treatment... All I have understood is that we cannot get path breaking results unless we have the intensions to do so for someone other than our own self... We lack commitment and selflessness which is the primary need of result oriented goals. Lets us realize that whatever we do has an impact on the society as a whole. After all we have certain obligations to our society and humanity as a whole.

Media Entertainment

Media, whether electronic or print, seems to be a better source of entertainment in an era where one has to pay heavy bucks to watch movies which are more like old wine in a new bottle and surfing entertainment channels makes one wonder why Ekta Kapoor doesn’t start her own TV channel rather than competing her own soaps, simultaneously, on different channels. .. I won’t be surprised to watch KNEWS - produced and directed by Balaji telefilms- soon being aired at peak hours on NEWS channels too... The possibility is high when media is obsessed with presenting NEWS with high entertainment indices only... and a channel called India TV has left no stone unturned to keep someone new to an idiot box entertainment guessing which category does the channel belong – although they remind their viewers after every minute of being a news channel – for everything shown is a news pehli bar India TV par... No one can break India TV Breaking News – when all other reporters are busy questioning PM or HM related to something shaking the Nation, India TV reporters are busy looking for exorcists, Ghosts, and the Cows that India TV cameras captured being taken away by aliens... Well others are also not far behind... the competition is growing at an alarming pace. In times when NEWS is nothing but a biased reporting of channel or print media owners’ interests or ideology, channels like India TV is following the former and the rest later... Well versed knowledge surely comes from reading, watching and analysis but on a serious note, let us also understand that a human brain takes the privilege of borrowing thoughts and ideologies presented, framed or narrated well...

News on Doordarshan in my home town, which is aired once in a day, has been the all time favourite for the elders at home... The news is read in two languages and people seem to be more than interested in knowing how the same news sounds in the other language also... This news also makes me feel proud of my ethnicity... of doing more than one activity at a time... my mother offering prayers, with radio or TV on, and to my surprise she doesn’t miss anything reported... Don’t ask me how important the news is... they can very well present something recorded last year as a daily news and people will still show same enthusiasm ... only thing they do is play with numbers... and my sister intelligently used to make best use of this... she would make her own news and narrate it well with a sophistication when asked by someone, going out for some unavoidable reason, to listen for the same... The reason to go out would surely be unavoidable... Attendance in local Masjid also used to be low in the evening bcoz the timings clashed with news... I don’t know if it still remains so... neither could I understand the reason for this news obsession... People seem to be more interested in, what India TV calls, Sansani... People have found a new entertainment... something that used to give Goosebumps to our elders.

When media itself comes in news, the best weapon to be used is freedom of speech... and that makes a pen more powerful than a sword. Offence is a best defence and who else knows this better than media... You can write anything... only condition being it shouldn’t offend media or a writer... My Professor says, education is the ability to listen to almost anything without loosing temper or your self confidence... although this applies to me only, for nobody is going to question the Prof’s credibility when he looses his temper on anything I say... Freedom of speech is not an absolute right is all I need to understand here... Everything doesn’t apply to everyone, we shouldn’t forget... Might is always right!!!

Nincompoops....

Life would have been better, had we been like the heroes of Indian cinema who apparently and seemingly, are capable of doing anything inconceivable in their real lives... The hangover of the character, which nudges into one’s soul, is so much that it sometimes requires watching another movie with another macho character with digital Dolby voice to fade away the earlier one – something a human mind is well capable of...
It was after a very long time that I went to watch a movie when my friend insisted – excellent movie, awesome reviews, best acting, best cinematography, best story etc etc... Had he been the jury in the Oscars, Hirani would be the Indian of the year, no matter what rest of 1.17 billion people minus Mr Hirani do rest of the year.. My friend had no choice but to handover Oscar to him, even before watching the movie... for he would never have been able to find a lady in a place like IIT, with whom he would make the people around envy his luck... that too for a late night show. Had he been – and I would ask for a movie – Hirani would have been the worst of the lots... someone in dire need of my friend’s advice... but then, not very surprisingly, he couldn’t find any like rest of the IITians and asked me for a treat - for something that never conceivably happened.. I had no option but to accept his prejudice and joined...
Watching the movie was fun and more than that watching people around giggle... for I had already borrowed a thought from some research, known only to Times of India, that we have an instinct to laugh watching people laugh...
Five point someone was a better narration, more practical – something I could relate with hostel life in IIT... seemed far better than the prize charged by a kid on the Hauz Khas traffic light... which I bought inspite of writing in favor of IPRs... ofcourse for earning my living.
Movie, definitely, had many social issues to deal with... especially when Aamir is so adamant on teaching parents parental care... Degrees don’t matter but capabilities do... and I wish it was true!!! Listen to your heart and chase your dreamz... everyone had his or her own review and learning indices to share... I was there, purely, for nothing but a 3 hours monotonous campus free life... The end of the movie, although, was very unusual – everyone left and I too left for hostel but with a character called Ranchodass... my friend was completely lost in the character ... Now that he is ready to do even my assignments, I wish the hangover lasts longer.

Happy New Year

Greetings for the new year – a year of new hopes; a hope for better future and resolutions for making it better. Some of us celebrate this new hope, some give farewell to the year which delivered the expected for them and some celebrate the hope that it is over, for it was a difficult one for some like me..

There, certainly, were the things which could have been managed better... Experiences that make us feel, better to be inexperienced than to make mistakes and learn.. Relations that took years to build and moments to break... Situations with reasons many but logic none.. In general, an unforgettable year that reminds me Charles Dickens and a “Tale of Two Cities”...

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times; it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness; it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity; it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness; it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair; we had everything before us, we had nothing before us...

The year past was a difficult one and a year ahead is a hopeful one.. What regresses, never progresses, said Hazrat Umar ibn al Khattab (RA). I have decided to progress and leap into the year ahead.. for there is a hope – a hope that kindles my candle.

Wishing you Peace and Prosperity in the years ahead.
Happy New Year 2010