A Serene Place Touched By Violence

A protester kicks back a teargas shell fired by policemen during an anti-election protest in Srinagar, India. (AP Photo/Dar Yasin)

I came in to Kashmir knowing little about the region. I was informed by my non-governmental organization, KashmirCorps, that a military presence had increased in Srinagar. The city is a battleground between the occupying government of India and separatists that stage demonstrations against the military presence. Unaware of the precarious relationship between India’s troops and Kashmir natives, I only knew my role was to help KashmirCorps with its mission of providing medical services and other assistance to the people in Kashmir. Little did I know that my time there would be disrupted by violent protests over a land ruling; the incident was just one example of political unrest in Kashmir.

My plane dropped into the breathtaking, fertile Kashmir Valley guarded by majestic green mountains of the Himalayas. As I approached the Srinagar Airport, I noticed that all of the buildings were camouflaged. We deplaned directly onto the tarmac, which laid in a meadow dotted with wildflowers. The airport was very small, and the baggage claim was a zoo. The 150 passengers from the flight crammed into a baggage claim terminal the size of a large classroom, all jousting for a better view of the lone baggage carousel.

It was not until the car ride out of the airport, around several barricades and through multiple checkpoints, that I came to discover that Srinagar Airport was in fact an Indian air force base in Srinagar. There was not a single street corner without an Indian soldier standing post. KashmirCorps had assigned me to research health issues affecting the local population as well as to get an understanding of the workings of the health system within Srinagar. The political tension between the majority Muslim population and the Indian military would prove to dominate my time there.

Despite the overwhelming military presence, the beautiful natural environment in Kashmir can often cause one to forget that the region is embroiled in political turmoil. KashmirCorps hosted a health fair, my first major encounter with the people of Kashmir. Basic medical care was offered by two doctors, one dentist, and four interns to more than 200 people that came from the community.

But what was supposed to be a day-long event turned out only to last a few hours. The patients seemed to know that the fair was going to be cut short, and they rushed in to be seen by a doctor. The door to the exam room was like a floodgate; a handful of people forced their way through every time it opened. At first I thought the sound of rumbling I heard was from people banging on the door in a rush for treatment, but the nervous expression on the faces of patients and the loud clamor proved otherwise. Bomb blasts in the nearby mountains made the doctors uneasy, and they abruptly left to seek safety. Medical service to the people at the health fair ceased.

The next day I visited the Lal Dad Maternity Hospital. Some travel more than a hundred miles to this medical facility, and it is the only maternity hospital in the area. There were two or even three patients to a bed. The overburdened hospital, when operating under acceptable conditions, required a nurse to patient ratio of 1 to 6; in the ward we were in, the ratio was 1 to 32.

There were stains on the walls; some were what looked like spatters of dried blood from some procedure years ago. Many of the beds were lined with old sheets, sometimes stained with pus. The doctors remarked that they don’t have the facilities or the financial resources to consistently maintain necessary hygiene standards. As one woman lay in pain from a Caesarean section that became infected, another woman and her newborn were lying just opposite her.

An associate professor of the government’s medical school told us that at times doctors work for 30 consecutive hours. The hospitals have no monitors and little other modern equipment. The hospital only owned one ultrasound machine and one X-ray machine, which were covered in dust. Due to supply and equipment shortages, doctors often have to be creative and settle for makeshift solutions. They mended two small X-ray sheets together since they did not have one large enough to display a chest X-ray. The doctors make rounds in the hospital with little equipment, relying only on their stethoscopes and experience.

That first visit to Lal Dad Maternity Hospital was the only trip I was able to make to the hospital for two weeks. The region’s relatively peaceful period was disturbed by a land ruling made by the Shri Amarnath Shrine Board, a committee that oversees the Hindu pilgrimage to the shrine located a few hours outside of Srinagar. The nearly 400,000 Hindus who visit the shrine every pilgrimage had begun to overwhelm the temporary tents set up to house them. The board ruled it was necessary to build permanent structures such as hotels and restaurants to serve the pilgrims.

One of the few things preserving the formerly sovereign nation is a law stating that land within Kashmir may only be purchased by people of Kashmiri descent who were born in Kashmir. Thus, the ruling made by the Shrine Board, composed of non-Kashmiris, was seen by the native population as an illegal attempt to establish a Hindu settlement and change the demographics of the region. Leaders in the Separatist Party, who want an independent Kashmir, were able to exploit these sentiments and rally nearly the entire population to take to the streets in protest of the land transfer.

For more than a week, we were unable to leave the enclave in which we were staying. While the Indian army imposed curfews in the city, the protesters enforced their own laws in the hills. During the day, all stores were closed and all commerce stopped; impromptu checkpoints were set up along the roads with burning tires. Taxi drivers dared not pass.

After four days of curfews, we could hear the protesters getting louder in the hills and were no longer permitted by KashmirCorps to leave the guest house for our own safety. During protests of this magnitude, anyone found outside of his or her home would be petitioned to join in the protests. Attempts to refuse an invitation to protest would be met with anger, and sometimes even stoning.

A week into the protests, the Indian army imposed a new curfew; those found outside their homes at night would be shot first and asked questions second. A day later, amid rumors that a separatist leader had been killed in the protest and worries that the airport could soon be shut down, KashmirCorps decided to evacuate us. We left for the airport early the next morning. We sat in an hours-long line of cars that seemed to stretch for miles outside of the airport, but the NGO was able to pull some strings, and by the middle of the day my fellow interns and I were on a plane to Delhi, wondering if we would ever see the magnificent green valley again.

I was surprised when, later, I heard the news that the protests were successful. While I disagreed with the recruitment tactics that were employed, I admired the protesters’ unity and determination. The street we lived on had Shi’i mosques on one side and Sunni on the other, but when people left the mosques they joined in the street and protested the oppression together.

Life in Srinagar quickly returned to normal and the KashmirCorps interns and I returned to finish our work less than ten days after being evacuated. The time I spent in Delhi allowed me to appreciate Kashmir in a way I was unable to do during my first stint. I could not thank God enough for the cooler weather in Srinagar after a couple of sweat drenched nights in Delhi.

I was also able to appreciate the beauty and serenity of the landscape in Srinagar, a great contrast to the crowded, polluted streets of Delhi. I remember remarking to some of my fellow interns about how much more peaceful Srinagar was than Delhi, nearly completely amnesiac of being unable to leave the guest house premises due to the danger of being stoned or shot at just a week ago. Such was the schizophrenic nature of what I have come to know as Kashmir.

Amin Eddebbarh is a student at UCLA. An earlier version of this article originally appeared in Al-Talib, part of the Campus Publications Network.

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