Published On:Thursday, 9 October 2014

‘That it should come to this’ (Hamlet - Act 1, Scene II)

The following excerpts are from forme Jammu and Kashmir governor
Jagmohan’s book My frozen
turbulence in Kashmir.

‘In 1995, 2768 persons were killed. Th Security forces were attacked 2570 times, that is, on an average about seven times a day. The number of security personnel killed increased from 198 in 1994 to 234 in 1995. 211 more civilians were killed
in 1995 than in 1994.’

‘January 26- Two Bombs exploded near the saluting base and one at the entrance of the Stadium. Eight
persons, including a ‘black cat
commando’, two Army Jawans , two
police constables and two officials of
the State Information Department,
were killed. 54 others injured. The
Governor himself had a providential
escape.'

'February 6 - An Army vehicle carryin Army Jawans from Jammu Cantonment was blown near
Jorian, by a powerful mine. Nine Arm
men lost their lives. In another simila landmine blast near Khumriyal in Kupwara district, six Army Jawans
and a civilian were killed’ ‘May
13-1995- In Bharat Village of Doda,
eight Hindus were shot dead and abou half a dozen seriously injured by terrorists. Doda had virtually
become a domain of Pro Pakistan
militants and foreign mercenaries’
Other than these incidents which hav
more or less been forgotten now, but chronicled painstakingly by Jagmohan in his book, 1995 stands out for two incidents that marked the peak of Islamist jihad in Kashmir.

In March 1995, a fierce encounter
between security forces and Mast Gul, Pakistani commander of a dreaded jihadi outfit broke out in
the Char-e-Sharif shrine. Mast Gul an many foreign mercenaries like him had laid siege to the shrine.

After day of a stand off, the entire
village, including the shrine, was
burnt and Mast Gul managed to
escape. According to Pakistani
newspapers, Mast Gul managed to
cross the LoC (Line of Control) and was accorded a hero’s welcome in
Pakistan.

Another defining moment of the
Kashmir jihad happened in July 1995
when a lesser known outfit known as Al Faran kidnapped six western
tourists in Anantnag district. Six
victims, including two British tourists, two Americans, a German and a Norwegian were abducted. One
American tourist managed to escape,
but the Norwegian tourist was
beheaded and the words Al Faran
were carved on to his chest. The other four are now presumed to be dead.

None of these above mentioned
incidents found even a fleeting
reference in Vishal Bhardwaj’s
much talked about recent release
Haider . We are told that Haider is set in 1995 Kashmir, but clearly, Bhardwa is not interested in all aspects of the history and politics of Kashmir. He is only interested in the adaptation of Hamlet in an Indian setting and Kashmir provides a fantastic backdrop as would have any other region, like Pakistan, Afghanistan, Syria or Iraq,
that has been torn by strife. The story of love, betrayal, deceit and revenge could have worked anywhere.

In India however, no other conflict
grabs international headlines like
Kashmir does. No other conflict
attracts as much opinion as Kashmir
and Bhardwaj has been vindicated
because by the end of the first week oo its release, Haider will probably have more reviewers than viewers.
Next, Bhardwaj juxtaposes Curfewed Nights written by Basharat Peer with Hamlet and
produces a potpourri that works at the cinematic level but has nothing to do with the real story of Kashmir.
In Bhardwaj’s world view, Kashmir is
incidental and the tale of deceit and
revenge takes precedence. Basharat
Peer who is also the script writer of
the film provides the political slant
which exists in his book and his writings about Kashmir. Together, the Bhardwaj-Peer combo provides you with a strange mix that looks
like Kashmir, but at the same time
seems so removed from it.

Shakespeare’s Hamlet is considered a unlikely hero because he is indecisive and just can’t make
up his mind about anything. His five
soliloquies in the play confirm that
Hamlet is forever questioning and
contemplating. However, while
adapting Hamlet ; Bhardwaj seems to
have had no doubts. There are no grey areas for him. The Indian State is the evil. The Indian Army is the
occupational force and all terrorists ar innocent folk who would rather quote Faiz than kill or plot against India. No for Bhardwaj are many
fascinating stories of rescue and
bravery by the forces. Not for
Bhardwaj are the gut-wrenching
stories of soldiers from Chennai, to
Manipur to Haryana serving in
Kashmir, where every square
inch of land is hostile. Not for
Bhardwaj is the story of Kashmir
which is the most subsidized
state of the Indian Union and which
enjoys the special status that no other state does. Bhardwaj also does not seem to be interested in providing any backdrop to the armed insurgency in Kashmir.

It seems to have escaped him that
Kashmir was never annexed by India
and therefore the Indian Army is not
an occupational force nor does he see to have understood the civilizational connect India has with Kashmir whic happens to be as old as the history of Indian civilization.

Bhardawaj hasn’t made a film about
Kashmir. Bhardawaj has simply made an adaptation of Hamlet set in Kashmir.

That is why historical accuracy is of n consequence to him, nor the
incidents that happened in the year
that he has set his fictional story in.
Haider is about the indulgence of its
director and uni-dimensional world
view of its script writer.

In 1995, most Hindus had been throw
out of the Kashmir valley by Islamists.

I suppose that is why
there is no reference to them in the
film.

Bhardwaj’s Kashmir is a place where
only Muslims live; only mosques exist,
only women with covered heads roam
around. Bhardwaj’s camera never
stops even for a fraction of a second at the burnt house of a Kashmiri Pandit or a dilapidated
temple where not too long ago the
sound of conches reverberated the air Since this movie is not about the real Kashmir, Pandits too don’t
find a place in Bhardwaj’s canvas. It
does hurt that any filmmaker can
conceive a film about Kashmir withou
any reference to Kashmiri Pandits (a fleeting 15-second referenc by an Army Officer does not count) bu
that is the reality. While azaadi
remains a distant dream and will
never happen, Kashmir exists as an
Islamic state where minorities have
been driven out.

My eyes strained to find anything that I could identify with in Bhardwaj’s Kashmir. I could find
nothing and then suddenly I found
myself in the ruins of the Martand Su Temple. This is where
my parents took me when I was a littl girl and my father told me the story of King Lalitaditya who had built the archeological marvel. It was destroyed during the Islamic rule by Sikandar Butshikan and legend has it that it took him a
whole year to destroy the beautiful
Sun temple.

When I visited the ruins as a little
child, I was surprised that my father
took off his shoes to walk on the
stones and made me take off my
shoes too. For him, these ruins were
our sacred past and taking our shoes
off was a sign of respect. In
Bhardwaj’s Kashmir, the ruins of
the Martand Sun Temple are just a
prop, a backdrop where 'Band Pather'
is performed, where menacing dancer with shoes on their feet
perform a dance portraying revenge
and retribution. It was appropriate
that I found myself in the ruins of
Martand. With little or no presence of Hindus in Kashmir, it is appropriate that I identify myself only with the ruins of Martand.

I watched the movie without shedding any tears. My tears seem to have drie up or so I thought.

But when the film ended and I read a
odd line of gratitude to Indian soldiers for helping during the recent floods, I could hold it no longer and wept copious tears at what I thought was a attempt to add insult to the injury. In the movie, the Indian army is the villain, it has no humane face, no valiant stories that the director could think of incorporating. But in the end
credits, he thinks about thanking the Army as an afterthought, for helping during floods. That is when I could no longer control my tears at the hypocrisy of it all and lopsided
political world view of Vishal
Bhardawaj and Basharat Peer.