A shattered image
Arun Joshi, Srinagar

It was a unilateral decision to join in Srinagar in August 1990, against the wishes of my family and friends, for I believed that Kashmir was the same as I had seen it during my childhood in late 1960s.

But how drastically things have changed became clear the moment I landed at the airport on August 16, where a lonely Tricolour was fluttering in the breeze. India's Independence Day was observed as "black day" by the people in the Valley following a diktat by militant outfits.

I had no particular destination in mind, except that I had to meet my friends of years, with whom I had covered Kashmir's 1987 elections.

"Where would you like to go," Fayaz Ahmad, a taxi driver asked me. Some years later I came to know that he died in an accident, but the image of a fluffy figure with a broad smile with which he greeted me lives on in my mind even today.

"Take me to the MLAs’ hostel," I replied and he gave me a look as if asking why I had given such a dangerous address in town – the building that housed police, intelligence officials and other security officers. Actually my friend and colleague from Jaipur George Joseph lived in MLAs hostel. He was working for Indian Express.

I arrived as an unannounced guest and came to know he wasn’t there. The room was locked. I asked Fayaz to turn to Partap Park colony. I off loaded my baggage at my journalist friend, Zafar Meraj’s house and went to meet BBC’s correspondent Yusuf Jameel who lived in the same colony. He still lives at his now famous 8 Pratap Park residence.

Yusuf was his usual self. He was busy typing, while other colleagues were gossiping, reflecting on the situation and giving their own version of the turn of events. Some of them were speculating about the future. My entry and their reactions gave me an impression that I was a welcome guest.

I was slightly tense as I had to inform my office in New Delhi that I had reached Sringar and had to send a joining report via telex. Central Telegraph Office was just 100 yards away: one had to cross Partap Park and there it was on the other side of the road.

Meraj-ud-din, an ace photographer, now working with AP TV, turned down my request to accompany me to CTO and with a valid reason: "Joshi you will have to do everything on your own, so learn it from the day one."

He was right. From that day onward I didn’t look back. The streets of Kashmir, where I had heard the slogans of "Hum kya chahhate Pakistan, hamara leader Yahya Khan" were now reverberating with "hum kya chahte azadi". The slogans of the 1987 elections, when the Muslim United Front candidates, Mohammad Yusuf, now Syed Salaha-ud-Din – the Hizb-ul-Mujahadeen chief currently based in Pakistan - were in the middle of the processions, where young people would rent the air with full throated slogans: "Yahan kaya chalega Nizam-e-Mustafa".

Everything around us was changing at a pace that was unbelievable. On the night of August 16, when I was back with George, two rocket launchers were targeted at the four-storey MLAs hostel. Instead, they hit Broadway hotel, shattering the peace and calm of the night.

For the next ten years the valley took one step ahead towards peace and was pushed ten paces back by a vicious circle of violence. People had started feeling the pinch, but they were not tired.

A retired chief secretary Nassarullah, when asked as to what would help Kashmir, said that the only mantra was: "don't inflict a sense of defeat on the people of Kashmir". So far, there have been attempts to woo them or intimidate them, all with the purpose of making them concede.

Kashmir remains the same as I saw back then in 1990. in 200 I shifted to jammu thinking normalcy would return very soon. But I was rudely awakened from my wishful thinking. The sentiments still simmer. They just need a reason to well up. The recent street protests are a perfect example.