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Contents:
Chapters
Prologue
1. One far too common
2. A multitude congregates to listen
3. Suspicion brews and bullying begins
4. Reason sprouts and rationality looks up
5. Administration cracks the whip
6. Bubble of harmony bursts and violence erupts
7. Mayhem continues unabated
8. Fear grips the minorities and exodus begins
9. Whither reside? Refugee’s in own country
10. Reflections
11. Middle ground majority’s predicament
12. The last horizon: Reality or illusion
Epilogue
Prologue
‘The Divide’ is a candid reflection on divisive tendencies and forces that continue to plague human
societies throughout the world along ethnic, religious, cultural, social and political lines. This story (if
it could be called one?) springs from the prevailing conflict in Kashmir and in many ways mirrors similar
though not identical situations across the board in many parts of our world. The characters described
(with fictitious names but representing real life millions) are simple, ordinary, religious and God fearing
people for whom life both by instinct and intuition is as beautiful as the valleys, plains and mountains
of their birth and meant to be lived in full, even in economic deprivation. A distinct sense of humour,
typical of a spiritually satiated lot, characterises them to the point of being superficial but real, in as
much as they are possessed by an unusual capacity to laugh at themselves and make others laugh,
notwithstanding the machinations of nature and whatever the providence decrees, good or bad.
In the aftermath of 2nd world war and the end of colonial rule (particularly British) in South Asia and
following independence of India (a secular democratic republic) and birth of Pakistan as a separate
nation (with a religious majority centric state policy), the people of Kashmir (a loose conglomerate of
varying regional, ethnic and religious groups from Jammu, Kashmir, Ladakh, Gilgit, and surrounding
areas) now divided between the two warring nations, continue to be deeply affected by different and
sometimes conflicting social, political and religious perceptibility’s within and without, often working
at cross purpose. Impregnation of the resultant schism among people of this region and the various acts
of omission and commission, perpetuated in utter disregard of its composite culture, human values of
peaceful co-existence by inimical groups, hardliners, disgruntled people and vested interests (often
aided and abetted from outside) have only worsened the plight of people in the region as a whole. That
these conflicting strands of thought and action have led to an impasse of sorts is too well known
internationally, however, what is not so apparent is the pain and suffering of those involved
(particularly sons/daughters of the soil irrespective of which part of the region, ethnic group,
community and religion they belong to) and their fortitude in braving it all as residents or refugees.
This story (again if it could be called one?) is also an expression of author’s anguish within, as a
Kashmiri tormented by the pangs and pain of ongoing and seemingly unending impasse.
Epilogue
Driving to the residence of a family friend, faraway in the ‘Great lake Region’ of uncle Sam’s west,
Nanu’s daughter pleaded with him to be more reticent and condescending, in accommodating views of
their hosts, particularly a family elder and well known Indian writer called ‘Chand’.
Piqued by the rather unusual request, he affirmed he would act as desired.
Following the customary welcome and pleasantries, the small gathering settled at the dining table ……
…a sumptuous but listless lunch followed with muted conversations, generally centred around
inclement weather that had all the ingredients of an imminent snow fall………………lunch over, everyone
proceeded towards the more open living space where a warm cup of coffee awaited them….
Being an elder and a man of letters ‘Chand’ initiated a conversation with ‘Nanu’.
I am told you live in Kashmir and I imagine it must be relatively peaceful now.
I live in Jammu and not in Kashmir, replied ‘Nanu’ rather cryptically.
That is about the same thing; after all they are part of the same Jammu & Kashmir state.
No it is not so, majority of people in the provinces of Jammu & Kashmir are from different ethnic,
cultural and religious stocks………………..unable to hold himself any longer, he said, can I ask you which
part of India do you hail from?
I come from Delhi, was the stock reply.
Is that where you were born and brought up?
No my family comes from the Baluchistan province of Pakistan , I was born there and also went to
school, we migrated in the aftermath of India’s partition and the birth of Pakistan…………having said
that, he gave a long pause and then looked straight into Nanu’s eyes …….I guess I see your point,
perhaps our tales are similar.
No, said ‘Nanu’ categorically, ignoring the pleading looks of his daughter...…… you took refuge in India
but I am a refugee in my own country.
Hearing the tone and tenor of ongoing conversation, the host chose to butt in (more to change the
subject) and request ‘Nanu’ to stay overnight.
Thanks very much indeed! But I imagine that won’t be possible, replied ‘Nanu’, we ought to be leaving
now, our return flight to India is scheduled tomorrow morning and we are yet to pack up. Later peeping
through the window for a closer look at falling snow, in his daughters home, ‘Nanu’ wondered why this
alien place makes him so nostalgic of his own homeland……is it something do with the characteristic
recurrence of four seasonal cycles, the year round; abundance of woods, meadows and lakes or
perhaps just the manner in which these snow flakes dance their way down for hours at stretch ……‘Moij
Kashir’, he murmured and heaved a deep sigh before he heard the familiar and arresting voice of his
grandchild ‘SaiSheen’ calling out for him…
‘Nanu’ what are you looking at, it is snowing heavily and one can’t see anything beyond the snow flakes
and the thick layer of snow. Look you have a mail from India.
‘Nanu’ handling the letter with misty eyes murmured …….another poem I guess, wonder when this
younger sibling of mine will stop day dreaming……….as he opened the envelope a pleasant surprise
awaited him….....it had a picture of his Kashmir home with a few lines scribbled on it:
“Pity the zealots of ethnic cleansing
Who won’t let this son of soil?
Live and die in peace
In ones home and hearth”
Back home in Kashmir, shocked by Gulia’s killing in a bomb blast, a desolate and despondent trio of
‘Nazir, Iza &‘Muhadie’ acting as pall bearers of their comrades coffin march towards the burial
ground…..
As ‘Gulia’ is laid to rest, ‘Nazir’ crouches in prayer to cry …..‘Yaa Allah, the Benevolent & Merciful’……
We sought Freedom but got Graveyards……Our Dreams have gone Sour…..We are Hapless ……. Be
Merciful…..Show us the Right way…
‘Muhadie’ & ‘Iza’ with uncontrollable tears running down their cheeks, work ceaselessly in tandem to
fill up and cover the grave, as if to indicate their inner frustration and anger at the innumerable loss of
lives, for a cause not so perceived ……
Reviews
"The making of an impasse: The Chasm and the Bridge….R.L. Shant" wrote
Brij Khar, the author of “The Divide”, is not exactly a storywriter, at least in the literal and figurative
sense of the word ‘short story’ or ‘novel’. He has no qualms about being so and when he calls this
narrative a story, he puts a question in parenthesis: “if it could called one”. But the question seems to
emanate from his humility more than doubt. “The Divide” tells us a story alright. It has a beginning a
middle and an end in the true sense, as referred by classical critics of stories. It has the characters who
are distinguishable from one another even though they pursue the same goal and employ the same
method. There is a clear line of events rising to climax and falling in denouement, even though there
are several rises and falls. The story is guided by an urge to make a point, no matter how the proofs
and propositions behave. And the point makes itself clear and clearly felt. The story of the making of
ruthless terrorism ripping through a credulous minority in Kashmir has been told in direct and
unaffectionate language. It hardly matters to the author if literary and critical dictates have not been
followed. And it does not affect the readers’ interest in the narrative in anyway.
The ‘divide’ is naturally the final result of schism appearing in Kashmir schematically for some and
taking place unwarranted and untold for others. That was what happened around the last decade of
last century in Kashmir. As Mr. Khar says in his brief foreword called ‘Prologue’, he has narrated the
story not for record or as a reaction to falling prey to the schematic action of perpetrators of terrorism
but because he wanted to express his “anguish…..as a Kashmiri, tormented by the pangs and pain of
ongoing and seemingly unending impasse”. So his aim is to clear a way for un-hypocritical dialogue of
peace between the people divided by recent provocative actions of unscrupulous elements from across
the borders. He feels involved in the tragedy of those who suffered, irrespective of whether they were
Hindus or Muslims. He empathizes with sufferers but describes the tormentor dispassionately. That is
noteworthy indeed.
For Kashmiri reader, who has been witness to the events of nineties of the last century, this narrative
opens like a bad dream that he witnessed and that he is trying to forget now. All the events and the
main players of the years passed by, come alive in “The Divide” and are easily identifiable. The author
has woven real stories into a credible narrative while staying objectively apart. That lends the
description qualities of both subjectivity and objectivity. It is like a ‘Ramlila’, presenting widely known
events sequentially and yet retaining an appreciative audience’s interest. While a ‘Ramlila’ goes
hyperbolic, this narrative remains factual and that is its beauty.
As said above, Mr Khar does not intend to write a literary story nor does he wish to retell recent
history. He wants to underline the processes provocations and nitty-gritty of a campaign of hatred
spread by some inimical to peace loving society of Kashmir. The story is told by one who fell prey to
such a campaign in spite of his very affectionate relationship with neighbours & friends of other
community. He was left with no option but to desert his ancient home and hearth, his motherland and
heritage and seek refuge in an alien atmosphere away from Kashmir. This narrative is the result of an
upsurge to try a hand in story writing of a scientist who, after retiring as Executive Director of ONGC
writes on technology and health issues. The chain of events he describes has not been colored
artificially nor have real looking dialogues been put into characters’ mouths. The author does not pay
much attention even to punctuation marks. He does not use under or overstatement to give a touch of
realism to either the events or the characters. It is his strong emotional involvement in the happenings,
that the description in his grammatically correct and idiomatically precise language overrides any
differences that be in the tone tenor or expression of characters. They speak their author’s language
and all leave the same kind of impression on the reader. It is Mr Brij Khar’s emotion that bursts out in
the end in the form of simple descriptive poems on events and places and memories on which he
reminisces. Hence poems on ‘Mansbal lake’, ‘a trip from ‘Mar’ to Mughal garden Shalimar’, ‘Sages and
seers’, ‘On the fallout of India’s partition’, On human tendency to go by the book’, ‘On opening of
Srinagar-Muzaffarabad Highway’, etc etc interspersed with Kashmiri, Urdu & Punjabi quotations appear
in the last chapters of the book. And in the end the gurus of terrorists pray to Allah, lamenting that our
‘Dreams have gone sour’.