When Delhi announced the return and rehabilitation policy for the youth who once crossed LoC to become fighters against India, it was a master stroke against Pakistan. As youth, frustrated and homesick, dropped the idea of gun and started trickling through routes not listed, with wives and children, unmaking of the policy started. As hundreds of families are struggling for a respectful survival, Anando Bhakto finds them reduced to pawns between warring neighbors

cover-illustration-1

Imagine that cold, dimly-lit morning of January 1990. A very young woman flip-flopped her way through the quiet streets of Srinagar. Quiet with human corpses that fell to gunfires, as anti-combatant forces unleashed a crackdown on militants and civilians alike. Quiet with despair. Quiet with pain. Quiet with stillness of all those who had suddenly been made audience to an unremitting let-out of blood. The young woman took quick steps towards the milk booth, pressing the empty milk vessel against her chest, inside her ‘pheran’. Suddenly she was gheraoed by a group of uniformed men, who nudged her, and asked her in harsh, domineering voice what she had been hiding. She got scared. Too scared. For these were not just a group of uniformed men interrogating her. These were also the men, she had read, had torched houses, killed children. Even raped women. She broke down into the ground at once. Silent. Without motion. Dead.

Nisar Ahmed Kawa said he could not even gather enough people to arrange the burial of her older sister that day. Nobody dared to risk his/her life in a curfew. So when, a few days later, this aggrieved, 16-year-old brother saw his friends boarding a bus to cross over to Pakistan administered Kashmir (PaK) to wage war for ‘freedom’, is it not conceivable that he too, without much thought about the outcome, must have felt impelled to join in, in this ‘movement’ against India? What is inconceivable is why over-twenty years of living in exile cannot still be considered satisfactory ‘atonement’ for ex-militants like Nisar, who had in any case given up armed struggle within a few years of insurgency, and who have come back to Kashmir to live in peace.

“When we heard about the rehabilitation policy of Jammu and Kashmir government, we were filled with the hope to return. Even a dog would love to come back to where it belongs,” said Nisar, who returned to Srinagar a year and a half ago. He is one among the near 300 ex-militants returned to the valley in the last couple of years after Jammu and Kashmir Chief Minister Omar Abdullah announced in November 2010 that militants who had crossed over to Pakistan/Pakistan administered Kashmir between January 1, 1989 and December 31, 2009, and who had not been involved in ‘heinous crimes’ could return. The applications of returnees would be considered by district superintendent of police of the district where the applicant lived before he crossed over to PaK. The application needs to be scrutinised by the SP, and thereafter it requires the approval of the CID, central agencies and the security forces. The Home Department makes the final decision. On his return, the ex-militant along with his family would be placed in a counselling centre for a period of three months or more, before he is allowed to settle down. Importantly, the policy does not grant amnesty; all returnees will be tried in courts for whichever cases as the law may deem appropriate.

It goes without saying that this policy is in stark contrast to international guidelines on DDRR (disarmament, demobilisation, reinsertion and reintegration) in conflict regions. In the case of the returning ex-militants in Kashmir, demobilisation and disarmament are not needed, though reinsertion and reintegration would require a process in which the government as a rehabilitating agency provides transitional assistance to cover basic amenities for ex-combatants such as food, cloth, shelter, and medical services, before arranging for their long term reintegration so that they may achieve sustainable employment and income. None of that is forthcoming.

Farooq Posh
Farooq Posh

Nisar says he had a comfortable life as a tailor in Muzaffarabad, now he is near starving. In the early 1990s he broke away from the militant group which had organised his departure to PaK. Married to a Kashmiri girl in Muzaffarabad in 2001, he, his wife and their two sons and one daughter all had been receiving 1500 Pakistani rupees per head per month, as part of PaK government’s ‘rehabilitation policy’ (Pakistan has all along maintained these ex-militants had taken refuge on its soil because of ‘Indian occupation and oppression’, and it has been aiding them, hence, on humanitarian grounds. India on the other hand alleges the grants are aimed at ‘abetting insurgency’).

“I sold up all my belongings to arrange money to return to Srinagar via Nepal; it took us lakhs of rupees. I still have land in Azad Kashmir from my in-laws’ side, but I gave everything up in order to return, in order to be back to my roots. My Kashmir,” said Nisar, his tear-filled eyes communicating his love for his motherland.

One of the basic flaws of the J&K government’s rehabilitation policy is the lack of agreement with Pakistan to facilitate the return of the ex-militants. The returnees in most cases cannot return via the four identified routes of Poonch, Uri-Muzaffarabad, Wagah and Indira Gandhi International Airport (New Delhi) given the arduous paper-work. “The political paradigm between India and Pakistan is subservient to the security paradigm. There are technical issues raised by security agencies to allow passage to ex-militants from these routes. No doubt it would be economically sustainable for the ex-militants to come through, say, Uri-Islamabad route as most of them had crossed over to PaK from the border areas of Kupwara, Rajouri etc,” said Dr. Gul Mohammad Wani, HoD Institute of Kashmir Studies, Kashmir University.

“It took us 434,000 Indian Rupees to reach Srinagar via Nepal,” said Farooq Posh, another returnee, quickly flipping through a diary in which he had maintained the airthmetic. Significantly, Posh is not a former combatant. “I ran away to Pakistan via Wagah border in 1982 after an altercation with my family members. I married in Lahore in 1985 to a girl whose family had been refugee in Pakistan from Uttar Pradesh, India. I had been working as Naibqasad in Irrigation Department, Lahore.”

Posh took voluntary retirement from his job and returned to Srinagar in 2012 with his wife, two sons and three daughters. “We went to Nepal legally as Pakistani citizens. Therein we crossed to India’s border illegally, having destroyed our Pakistani passports, citizenship cards and every other document.” On the way Posh and his family were stopped at different check posts, and he said he was looted of all his belongings, including hundreds of US dollars. “I am not sure if they were on-duty officials or imposters. They had taken away even the 60,000 Pakistani rupees we had, but on seeing the women wail, they returned half of that.”

In Kashmir, episodes full of misery, trauma and harassment awaited them. “The neighbours intimated the police about our return. I along with my wife and children were locked up in Humhama interrogation Centre for eight to 10 days. Though the Sessions Court granted us bail, we are being tried for having illegally crossed the border. They have even slapped me with Arms Act which is a fabrication,” said Mohammad Ahsan, another ex-militant. Ahsan went to Muzaffarabad in 1990. He was never a part of the armed resistance. “I worked with People’s League till 1996; we used to organise sit-ins and demonstrations in front of world embassies to press for intervention on the Kashmir dispute.” Thereafter he launched the Jammu and Kashmir Haqiqi movement with his associates Mirza Jameel, Suhail Dar, and Nayeen. His political activism continued till 2012 when he gave up his thriving business as a stationary shop owner to return to Indian side of Kashmir.

Mohammad Ahsan
Mohammad Ahsan

A decision he sorely regrets. “We were tempted by the promising talk of the J&K government to work out a better solution with Pakistan for our dignified return to Kashmir. What we received here was one deceit after the other,” he said. Ahsan has to, now, report to the police every one month or two; he is prohibited to move outside Kashmir. His wife and children cannot visit their relatives in Pakistan. “The police have their eyes fixed on us. There is always the fear of being called for interrogation. Our children are not getting admission in schools as we do not have school leaving certificates from the institutions which they last attended in Pakistan. The J&K government has not issued any circular to this end,” he recounted in one breath.

Prof Wani pointed out that the case for reinsertion or reintegration of ex-militants is weak in Kashmir as it is difficult to see Kashmir as a post-conflict region. “The conflict in Kashmir is unpredictable. The security situation is not good on many counts. The army is being attacked on the highways. Moreover, we see the army creating bunkers on every one kilometer, especially on Baramulla-Srinagar highway.”

However, there have been instances when the Indian state has come out with generous packages of reinsertion and reintegration, even as combatants waged war relentlessly. In 1992, the then Assam chief minister Hiteswar Saikia helped 3500 young combatants led by Ulfa’s publicity chief Sunil Nath to come over ground. They were offered cash incentives of Rs 50,000 and a loan of Rs 200,000 each, in order that they reintegrated to society.

Apparently, the government had its own interests there. It wanted to break the rank and files of the United Liberation Front of Assam. In Kashmir, the armed resistance is already in disarray. But there stems the weighty debate: Are amnesty and/or rehabilitation just tools to quell conflict? Are they not also the tools to mitigate the anger and uncertainty that lead to conflict?

In Kashmir, the state extended its repression to the families and relatives of ex-militants on their arrival. Ahsan alleged his brother and nephew were denied passports because he had been an anti-India activist in the past. “How can they deny passports to my brother and his children? They have never supported or participated in any anti-state activity. My brother curses me day in and day out. He holds me responsible for his difficulties, why wouldn’t he?”

Financially, their plight is overwhelming. “I am working as a tailor here; I manage to bring in mere Rs 100 a day. Can anybody make a living on Rs 100 a day when one has to look after one’s wife and three children,” asked Nisar. “Omar promised we would get a quarter and a loan of Rs 5 lakhs for setting up business. Now he has backtracked. He avoids meeting us. We demonstrated before senior police officials, we gave a sit-in in Press Colony. But there is no intervention.”

Ironically, India recently had been home to 25 surrendered Nigerian militants, who had come as part of the African country’s reintegration pogramme. In an understanding with Nigeria, India offered them diving and underwater welding training, to make them more relevant in Niger Delta’s petroleum sector. In 2010 Nigeria had announced a general amnesty for the combatants in Niger delta, and unlike in the case of Kashmir, the Nigerian government offered 16,683 ex-militants educational and vocational training programme in Britian, Ireland and South Africa under state expenditure. Nigeria would be sending another 10,000 such men off-shore for training before the amnesty ends in 2015. Given the indigenous resources in Kashmir in areas such as artisanship, agriculture, environmental management, tourism, building and construction, it is surprising that the government is making little or no effort to develop entrepreneurial skill for ex-militants returning to Kashmir.

kashmir-life-004-(1)
Illustration: Semon Jit Kour

In various parts of the world, ex-militants have made meaningful contribution to rebuild their societies. In Angola, ex-militants have been working to draw attention to social-welfare need of child soldiers and of those disabled or destitute during the war. In Mozambique, the ex-combatants formed the organisation ProPaz, which looks after local conflict resolution in disputes related to land and labour, besides arresting anti-social behavior of youth including substance abuse, and prevention of circulation of arms. Ex-combatants in South Africa have embarked on a project to further reconciliation between offenders and victims through a restorative justice project where they are trained to serve as mediators. In Indian administered Kashmir, however, the government seems to once again recreate the ground for conflict rather than mitigate conflict. Those who returned have been left in the lurch.

Posh said that they once tried to form a team of returnee-militants to press for government intervention. They met at Hazratbal Shrine two years back. But the enthusiasm to work as a group died down soon. The returnees living in nearby cities or in Srinagar’s outskirts didn’t have the money to pay for their transportation. They scattered. “It is not about the state government. Intervention must come from the union government too, as Omar would not have announced the policy without New Delhi’s sanction. But how do we go and protest in front of a minister in New Delhi? We don’t have the money to move around in Srinagar. My two sons have taken up job as salesmen. Of the six thousand rupees they bring together, three thousand are spent to pay the rent of the house we have taken in Bemina Bypass,” Posh added – his voice sometimes rising in agitation, sometimes mellowing into a sigh.

Sometime back Posh’s wife lost her only brother in PaK. He was the only brother in five sisters. Yet, Posh’s wife had no means to see his body one last time. The wives of these ex-militants are now trapped in Indian Kashmir just as their husbands had been trapped for over 20 years in Pakistani Kashmir. This again is in stark contrast to how India has reacted to other conflict situations. In April 1992 the Indian army in Assam had announced that the ULFA combatants would be allowed safe passage to their villages, so that they may meet their families and celebrate the Bihu festival together. In 1999 again, the Assam chief minister Prafulla Kumar Mahanta envisaged a millennium offer to Ulfa cadres, allowing them to be home for ten days between 21 December and 31 December. No wonder Ahsan has a lot of questions to ask India: “Why are the LoC passages being opened to security agencies alone? How can the government be so overtly blind to a human tragedy-in-making? Why aren’t they allowing our wives to meet their ailing parents in Pakistan?”

“Give us the means to livelihood. Help us educate our children. Allow our women to see their families in Pakistan,” the ex-militants pledge they do not wish more than that.

The state must be secretly listening. And surely, the state must be secretly happy to see ex-combatants turn into helpless, begging creatures, imploring to it for survival. But will the state intervene? Perhaps, not. The state would rather let them suffer. The more they suffer, the more they become mournful examples of why not to mutiny for ‘azadi’. That serves a purpose.

As I prepare to take leave of the ex-militants, Posh rushes into an ante-chamber and brings in a neatly arranged bundle of documents. Tears in his eyes, he shows me the matriculation certificate of his daughter Kalsoom Farooq. 671 marks out of 1050. “I needed 1100 rupees to get her admitted to a higher education college in Nawakadal. I had none.”

A couple of hours from now, Srinagar will be dark and frigid. Farooq Posh will stand in the cold in the basement, killing time until his sons had returned. “In Muzaffarabad, they used a motorbike to go to nearby markets. Today they walk to home for over an hour from Lal Chowk,” he told me ruefully. From his house in the outskirts of Srinagar, the Himalayas seem to gherao the city like a giant’s army on vigil. On the other side of the Himalayas, across the Pir Panjal, is a nation which they call India. Farooq’s story is not known to her people. They haven’t heard about Nisar, his dead sister or his mourning wife and children. They know nothing about the long tragedy that had befallen the thousands of Farooqs and Nisars and their hapless brethren. But one day, when Farooq or Nisar or their children will pick up a stone again, or fire a gunshot again, in mindless attempt to tell the world about their plight, the sleeping conscience of the Indian mainland will at once be awakened. Not to plead their case. But to demand yet another round of ‘atonement’.

– Anando Bhakto, a New Delhi based journalist reporting on democracy and governance issues, is an alumnus of Asian College of Journalism. He has authored four all-India cover stories, and interviewed important political dignitaries on matters of policy concern. In 2013, he did MA in Journalism from Cardiff University. He contributed this story to Kashmir Life. He can be followed on twitter.com/anandobhakto.

LEAVE A REPLY

Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here