One or the other part of the town has remained shuttered like a frightened eye these past few days. Somewhere or the other each day roads have been blocked, vehicles stoned and establishments coerced into closure. People have been stripped and inspected like they were carriers of contagion. Their homes have been invaded and their privacies ransacked. With renewed energy these past few days, they have been beaten and bombed, maimed and killed.
Kashmir is finally recovering from the short hangover of peace. And as they stagger out of the ceasefire haze, they stare into a future quite as frightening as their past.
Peacemaking lies in a shambles, at least for the moment. Peacebreaking is back with a vengeance. Militant groups have found new reason to demonstrate their might and their will to continue waging war; prospects of peace have to be killed in the cradle, the Trojan horses, in this case a section of the Hizbul Mujahideen, have to be bamboozled to fall in line.
And as they pitch the fever higher, security forces have intensified countermeasures. More of the deeply unpopular cordon and search operations, more raids into suspected hideouts and more killings, more flag marches, more strip-search barricades, more harassment.
Farcical and doomed as it was from the very start, the ceasefire had eased the air a bit on the ground. Reasonably assured they were not under fire, the security forces had relaxed the shackles during the short ceasefire. The loosening of tension was palpable.
Movement was relatively freer, search operations had stopped, the guns were there everywhere but their posture was not menacing. The Srinagar car blast changed all that in a matter of seconds. Kashmir is back on the high-tension wire pulled over a minefield.
Says a Srinagar elder: “It is not that we did not want to believe in the ceasefire but the reality is that we couldn’t. It was too good to be true and too good to last. And now we are back to the old ways again, getting squeezed between the militants and the security forces.”
Most now fear a return to extended violence. “The Srinagar blast was just the beginning,” says a senior state police officer.
Rather than cut a course to peace, the bungled and aborted initiative for talks with the Hizbul Mujahideen has opened new fronts in the Valley and created new walls of mistrust.
This phase of violence, many believe, portends to be the more menacing for the war on the ground is confounding; nobody is sure of the other’s intentions, nobody is sure what they themselves are doing.
The government is unsure of the intentions of the Hizbul commanders in the Valley who came for one round of talks and vanished underground. The political bosses still want to go soft on them but the security forces want to resume offensives.
The Hizbul commanders, even if some of them want to plod on with talks, are unsure how to make their way back to the negotiating table: will the other militant groups let them? Will the government now trust them?
The other militant groups are hellbent on preventing the Hizbul from splitting and a faction jumping into the government’s lap. Part of the violence that is happening in the Valley now is intended as much as a warning to pro-talkers in the Hizbul as to the government itself.
It may, in fact, be true that Hizbul was forced to claim responsibility of the explosion even though it may not have effected the operation, in order to send a public message that it had junked the negotiating table. Lashkar-e-Toiba had first claimed responsibility for the blast but then, strangely, took back the claim from Pakistan and the Hizbul owned up.
So even if part of the Hizbul, perhaps the Abdul Majid Dar faction, comes overground now, the Hizbul will continue to live underground, as Hizbul or under a new hat. The war in Kashmir will continue.