Geetika Kohli
4th August, 2019 had been particularly glum. The house had been empty and the air felt stifling. I looked at my open books, perching upon different surfaces about the room. All the contemplation of the previous hours seemed to have exhausted not only me but also these little creatures that lay sprawled everywhere as if releasing their confounding ideas, giving up.
The world of the intellect is an intricate palace with its gilded balconies and tenebrous corners. It is one with a million staircases; you lose the thrill of climbing after a while. In the liminal stage, where a cavernous alley opens up to a field of vibrant light, you behold the promise of knowledge. But degusting the sight all at once is far from possible. As such, you trudge back, halting to rest, until you have dilated internally to be able to accommodate the awareness that lies ahead.
I got up and began to gather my books. Weary, more with the mental drill, I sat down and picked up my phone. There were stacks of messages in heaps of groups – like any other day. Only that the key message that was being promulgated read as such a far-fetched lie that I snapped: Jammu and Kashmir to lose its special status and to devolve into a Union Territory.
5th August, 2019. We sat in disbelief as the television confirmed the tidings from yesterday. Although we had been a part of the thorough deliberation on the removal of Article 370 from the constitution, we had no inkling about the announcement on the bifurcation of the state of Jammu and Kashmir, with Jammu-Kashmir and Ladakh being designated as two separate Union Territories, the former with a legislature, and the latter, without. The spiralling arguments on the revocation of the special status that we had been both, a party, and an audience to, had brought most of us in Jammu to being hopeful, or at least neutral. We had always lent credence to the theory of Jammu& Kashmir being an integral part of India. This integration through a constitutional amendment would only ratify the history we had acceded to, of course, after years and years of voluntary research and involuntary learning. Most of us, if not all, did not know of any privileges that would be lost to us, if a revision of our status would be made. The opportunity cost of appearing ‘special’ was too high for us. We felt we had been kept from development – social, economic and even ‘spiritual’, and that this move would lay the foundations for a harmonious alignment with the rest of India.
But losing statehood was something that had not hit our consciousness ever before. It caused us great consternation and after we recovered from the initial paralysis, we sifted through every online space to gather the rationale behind it. We dived into debates and let ourselves think out loud. Though we felt emaciated at times, we let the novelty of the reasoning we were being exposed to fuel our curiosity. We also consciously fought the ennui of not knowing. We knew the conclusions would arrive.
A Union Territory is directly governed by the central Government and allows for a greater control over all the matters concerning the region. In the case of Jammu and Kashmir, where insurgency has resulted into a perpetual instability, this move aimed to alleviate the tension and pave the way for a less volatile social existence for the citizens.We, in Jammu and Kashmir, have seen enough and know better than hunting the devil in the details, at least in the short run. So, when this argument started to look precise, we restrained ourselves from jumping into questioning the modalities.
Further, it began to become clear how the Government’s vision pertaining to a robust execution of its developmental initiatives in the region, could be realised with the fresh UT status. New investment could be brought in, leading to an infrastructural revolution, and the creation of meaningful job opportunities. The counterargument that uninhibited entry into the state would destroy local aspirations, did not weigh heavily on us.
Speaking of our constitutional integration post the abrogation of article 370, it was felt that since the political, social, and economic conditions of the state had transitioned significantly after Independence, the special status that we had been accorded ceased to hold meaning. As such, the decision to turn Jammu and Kashmir into a Union Territory could help implement the constitutional provisions that had not been realised earlier. With greater access, the centre could seamlessly align its governance more closely with the national priorities as well.
Today, with each passing day, as we trudge further in our individual life-scape, we come across more of these contentions, and the otherper plexing notions about our collective existence as the people(s) of Jammu and Kashmir. We can see implicit connections being formed all the time. One of my acquaintances, who has been seeking a professorship at a local university and has spent years in building a profile commensurate with it, now talks about it, taking a more parochial view of her situation. She claims that as the competition has expanded manifold with interview candidates being invited from across India, she might have to give up the chase. Another one quips how as a young entrepreneur her possibilities now seem to have multiplied. With the impetus given to Entrepreneurship Development Programmes for women including funding assistance and marketing support, as in JKTPO’s initiative, ‘Hausla’, that she had been part of, she expects her revenue to double in a couple of years. Many young investors in my close circle often remark about the intriguing shift in the real estate scenario. With Jammu being seen as an emerging market with potential for long-term growth, the prices of property are expected to continue soaring as the region achieves further stability.
There are umpteen promises for us to feel inspired by. There are a plethora of bottlenecks we envision too – we, the five million individuals of Jammu – we, as we wind up, after a long day at work, and after having unravelled the knots in our domestic lives – we, the young, the old, the men, the women, the children, most of all – we, as we scroll down our screens, scavenging positive tidings at night, know we want it to work. We, who have acceded in spirit, we who have long surrendered, know that we will not succumb to the tyranny of ironies around us.
Our obscure past, a growing tome of incredible stories, towers over our future. Yet we choose to read it. Our collective consciousness and our individual intellects intertwine to lay the foundation of our comprehension of our political existence. Our eyes that are open in the face of these shadows that blanket us are now beginning to see hints of the India we long to belong to.
14 February, 2025. My eyes brim with tears as I commemorate the Pulwama martyrs. Today, I will not be reading any of the books that bleed as they snooze around me. I will, instead, write to the fallen soldiers. Though I am placed inside the palace of the intellect, I will look out the window to let my intrinsic vision merge with the consciousness of the long gone. I know I believe in what they could see – though I do not see it yet.
(The author is a writer, entrepreneur and life coach)
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