A passage to curfewed Srinagar

Thanks to PDP and NC, 1990 returns in 2010

Ahmed Ali Fayyaz

SRINAGAR, Sep 19: Sighting Barkha Dutt in the Valley had an ominous interpretation, not only for Police officials but also for ordinary Kashmiris, in yesteryears of turbulence. Whenever she arrived in, there was something newsy---a fidayeen strike, an IED blast, a massacre of resident Pandits or non-Kashmiri workmen. But, when rows of passengers in the Go Air flight 372 caught the Indian news television’s most familiar face disembark at Srinagar Airport, nobody looked surprised. For, this time round, trouble has already set in. Kashmir is four years down the day a diminutive Dutt had joined Prannoy Roy’s NDTV in 1994.

Barkha had vomited ire on my piece on introduction of ‘embedded journalism’ over a month back though I had not identified her as the New Delhi-based journalist taken to Tufail Matoo’s home by Security Wing of J&K Police with nanny care amid unprecedented curfew. Targeted by many of her ‘well wishers’ in Srinagar, she dismissed my observation as “completely false and fabricated” and believed that I had “stooped to this level of falsehood”. In my prompt reply to her email I did my best to make it clear that the insinuation was not to her visit.

“Are you still angry?” I bumped into her at the departure. “My anger lasts for 24 hours”, she quipped with her familiar smile and, as usual, complemented her affection with a characteristic hug. As Barkha began lining up her all-party delegation schedules with colleague Nazir Masoodi, Well at the terminal, I decided to take a round of the curfewed Srinagar, only to see how different a Kashmiri journalist was a month later from a co-passenger colleague from Delhi.

Exactly at the sunset, I began driving in the direction of late Matoo’s house. There was hardly any resistance from the usually calm Jawahar Nagar to the first major concertina barrier at Barbar Shah. Gun totting Police and CRPF men began waving halt from a distance. “Where are you going?”, asked a constable. “Rainawari and Lalbazar”. “Why?”, asked he tersely. On learning that I was a journalist, traveling with the newly issued ‘curfew pass’ by District Magistrate, men at the first border point relented.

Out of similar checking exercises at around 15 points from Barbarshah to Lalbazar, three gave a go-head with palpable reluctance. Others looked humane. Wending my way through an alley in Lalbazar, residents came rushing and asked to put off headlights. They advised to return in reverse gear. “Somebody has thrown a stone and CRPF are now thrashing whosoever comes their way”, said an elderly woman. There was no point to proceed.

Demeanor of the soldiers had faded out with the fast spreading darkness. After listening to men and women showing their blissful concern, there was no point to even return. “Some people have pelted stones at Nowhatta and both, Police as well as CRPF, are now furious---beating up pedestrians and motorists”, everybody uttered. There was now no option but to arrange return under Police escort. SSP Srinagar was gracious enough to call his SHO of the area to escort me out of the ‘war zone’. As advised, I drove slowly to Mirza Kamil Sahib Chowk.

One among six heavily armed CRPF soldiers signaled a halt. Without asking questions, he directed to return. “I am a journalist, going back to home with curfew pass”. “Nahee chalega (It won’t work), said he with the addition that the DM’s curfew passes were valid “only during relaxation in curfew”. He made it clear that he would not listen to anybody. Next call to SSP assured that SHO would soon contact by phone. It didn’t for next five minutes. As the last resort, I dialed CRPF PRO Prabhakar Tripathi’s number. He quickly revealed to the soldiers on duty that Ahmed Ali Fayyaz was a senior and responsible journalist and deserved to be allowed. “Sir, please proceed”, said a soldier affectionately.

Recalling bitter experiences of 1990, I began asking myself as to how many times at how many points could I repeat trouble to Tripathi. I am aware how the soldiers first act and then begin knowing why someone was driving in a curfewed area, particularly when a grenade or a stone has landed just minutes before. “No, I won’t”, I told the CRPF constable, “until SHO escorts me”. Thereupon luck worked. SHO Nazir Ahmed called and said that he was at the naka ahead of Firdaus Cinema.

On directions of SSP, SHO began piloting. Brickbats, not more in number, and the mood of each and every soldier on duty were tell-tale signs of a total freeze. CRPF nakas had no hesitation in even forcing the bullet-proof Gypsy of the SHO to halt and check every detail of the journalist he was escorting. Façade of the revered Dastgir Sahib shrine at Khanyar presented the look of a veritable war zone. The makeshift encampment formed by a fleet of CRPF Gypsies and bunkers was imposing enough to make the SHO halt. It was the locality of the hapless residents who called me in New Delhi last night, lamenting that CRPF men were shattering doors and windows randomly and thrashing the inmates, including women. “This exactly after 18 years”, they said.

Forcing me to put off all lights, the young CRPF officer exchanged greetings with SHO while trying to learn how he was passing “through our area without meeting us”. I learned, after crossing next four points that the control of state Police and civil administration has now vanished almost completely on the capital city. Phone calls from rural areas said that regular Army had taken over the control in most of the areas.

While making civilian human movement impossible after 20 years, authorities are saying through official electronic media that the all-party delegation would meet “everybody” in Kashmir.

The day began with the news of three more civilians succumbing to injuries at SKIMS and SMHS Hospital. Not all Hurriyat’s Azadi lovers. They include mainstream PDP’s zonal president in Anantnag. With Syed Ali Shah Geelani and the government outsmarting each other in asserting their writ, life on 8th consecutive day of strictly enforced curfew has become a misery in the Valley for one and all.

END