The Man who says No to New Delhi

A	N HOUR BEFORE DAWN ON 7 JUNE 2010, the day Prime Minister Manmohan Singh was scheduled to visit Kashmir, I drove to Geelani’s home to meet him again. It was 4 am and Geelani was about to begin his morning prayers. A white-bearded man

opened the gate and led me to a mosque just inside Geelani’s compound. Inside, there was a small gathering of bearded men, some old, some young, waiting for Geelani to lead their prayers. I heard some tentative footsteps approaching the mosque. It was Geelani. His nicely trimmed beard, not the kind attributed to fundamentalists, complimented his subtle expression and appearance. He looked extraordinarily fresh when he gazed at me through his moist green eyes.

PHOTOGRAPHS BY SAMI SIVA

Protesters clashing with police has become all too common.

Geelani finished his prayers and led me inside his study room. He took down the Qur’an from the bookshelf, sat down cross-legged, and began reading the Arabic text until the morning sun breached the edge of the white curtains. He slowly guided his index finger along the written verses.

“Each time you study the Qur’an, you find new things, new inspirations.” Geelani said. “This book guides you on how you walk, how you treat your neighbours, your friends, your parents, your brothers, your sisters.”

“Is there any important political decision the Qur’an has helped you to make?” I asked.

“Yes, in every aspect,” he said. “It says sovreignty lies with almighty Allah. Sovreignty is not for the people, not for any dignity, or any family. It only lies in the hands of Allah.”

For a moment, the fiery old man seemed like an obedient student. Then the conversation turned back to politics. His demeanour changed. His body stiffened. “Just recently, I heard the news that some 12 years ago, two persons were arrested and put inside the Tihar jail,” Geelani said. “Now they have been proven innocent. Is this a law? Is this justice? It is very unfortunate that Islam is not seen as a complete way of life.” He was advocating sharia law.

“How do you see the Taliban?” I countered. “They say that they also follow Islam.”

“No, no, no... not at all,” Geelani said. “The Taliban does not represent Islam. Their actions are based on revenge.” He took a deep breath. “Islam doesn’t allow the killing of innocent people.”

He raised his arm toward the ridge of the wall and grabbed a portable radio set. It was now 7:30, and he tuned into a news bulletin from Pakistan. With his head down, he listened intently. As in India, the stories covered shortages of electricity, a water crisis, unemployment, etc. He turned off the radio.

PHOTOGRAPHS BY SAMI SIVA

Geelani takes his morning dose of medication in the study of his Srinagar home. His health has been failing him for the last four years.

He paused for a moment to finish his breakfast, two boiled eggs and milk custard. He has a history of chronic illnesses—kidney cancer, heart disease and bronchitis. He often wears a surgical mask to avoid the dust. He began reading a newspaper before I again interrupted him.

“What is your stand on militancy?” I asked.

He paused for a few minutes, seated in his centrally heated room, facing his bookshelves. He finally spoke. “India denied Kashmiris their right to self-determination by using their military power,” he said. “Our peaceful efforts were rejected. What alternative is there apart from fighting with guns?”

I asked him about the many foreign militants active in Kashmir. He invoked Bangladesh’s war of independence: “You know, once upon a time there was East Pakistan, do you remember? They raised the voice for Independence from West Pakistan, and India sent a regular army to help them. What is the justification? When we people do it, how is Pakistan wrong?”

Then the conversation turned to Pakistan’s covert actions in Kashmir and the idea that the UN’s plebiscite had become irrelevant. “What else do we have without the UN’s promise?” he asked, “and Pakistan is in that promise…” He looked angry as he stood up and asked me to excuse him for a while. Soon he re-entered: “Those people [who given up on the plebiscite] are tired, it’s not their fault. Such things happen in a freedom struggle, that doesn’t mean we alter our history.”

A group of young men entered the room. They shook hands with Geelani. A short-bearded man began to speak, but Geelani cut him short. “Last Friday, you misbehaved in the gathering, you chanted slogans despite the fact I was speaking at the microphone. You actually disrupted my speech.” In a few moments, Geelani seemed happy again, as if nothing had happened. His back was touching the wall. Behind him hung a calendar inscribed with a promise from Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru, India’s first prime minister, to the people of Kashmir. It affirmed their right to the plebiscite.

I

LEFT KASHMIR IN THE MIDDLE of yet another cycle of unrest and followed the news from New Delhi. On 6 August, two days after Geelani asked Kashmiri youth to refrain from stone pelting, Home Minister P Chidambaram offered Geelani a meeting. On 9 August, Prime Minister Manmohan Singh did the same—the third invitation from New Delhi in the past two

months. As usual, Geelani snubbed both offers.