There has been a drastic shift in Kashmir. The notion that militants should die for they have picked up the guns to fight and die has now been replaced with “save-the-militants” refrain. There was a time when attendance at militants’ funerals had been reduced to a trickle.

The upsurge at militants’ funeral needs to be analysed. Kashmiri Muslims carry the body of Burhan Wani at his funeral in Tral, south Kashmir. Reuters.

The ongoing street protests in Kashmir have unveiled the new dynamics of conflict.  Common Kashmiris  are faced with an inescapable dilemma. There is an unfathomable reservoir of sympathy with stone-throwing crowds in streets. Targeting the police and the security establishments represents  anger against the uniformed men — the other side  of the conflict.  For those, from bureaucrats, politicians (ruling or opposition) besides the known faces and voices of separatism, the other side  should be out of the Valley. Ironically, the same majority is also yearning for normalcy — disciplined  working in offices, uniformed children heading to schools, markets open  and plying  of vehicles without the fear of being hit by stones. Only the people of Kashmir know what they are undergoing. The reconciliation between the yearning for normalcy and the sympathy for the anarchy on streets is something that has haunted them for over the years. This time, it is different. Street protests triggered by the killing of Hizb-ul-Mujahadeen commander Burhan Wani on the night of July 8 have assumed new dimensions. Social media played a critical role in evoking such protests because Burhan epitomised  the pure Kashmiri face. It was in  the forests of this village where he was born that he received his training in arms, thereby contributing to his glamorous appeal for youngsters on the social media. In Kashmir, like any other conflict area, the social media appeal traverses far beyond entertainment and routine morning greetings. It is a potent tool to spread disaffection to enbale the drafting of more youth into militancy. Guns symbolise romance and the chances of becoming a known face, if not a hero, overnight. Looking at this thinking would reveal that the images of the past have faded into insignificance. This is the legacy of the Burhan cult. When the youth get killed or wounded by the security forces on the streets, sympathy  pours in  from parents otherwise  angry  over the audacious  defiance of their advice to children not to venture into stone-throwing  zones. The whole neighbhourhood joins in.  The rest of the job is done by the  social media. The government is wrong in believing that it has placed curbs because the images  that attract youth to the streets  are still  doing the rounds. Satellite phones are available and are working. Many are enjoying official patronage and facilities. This  dreaded cycle of violence has been going on for years now. The 1990 phenomenon was processions, hit-and-run tactics, hurling of grenades and firing of thousands of bullets with not even a single injury, or the panick-stricken  troopers firing into the crowds. That was the 20th century. The 21st century, particularly after  9/11, was an era of shift in staging attacks  as  horrifying as the  attack on the legislature. There was an intensity in “fidayeen” missions. Now, post-Burhan, there is a gigantic change in the thinking of Kashmiri Muslims. The refrain: “Let militants die, for they have picked up guns to fight and die,” has been replaced with the “save militants.” There was a time  when attendance at militants’ funerals had been reduced to a trickle. The anger would spill over  only if the civilians were killed. In 2008 and 2010, situations were created where only civilians, protesting in streets, were killed or injured. Similar scenes are getting replayed  in 2016, with a significant change in tactics. This time, the security establishments face a volley of stones. Security forces, under orders not to retaliate in proportion to the level of attack, have started  shifting their posts. The objectives  are becoming clear. For saving militants, the first method was offering  a human shield and the disruption of forces’ operation against them, no matter whether they were Pakistanis or Kashmiris. Now the massive protests are organised with a call that the militants should not be touched at all.  Let militants kill and wound the security personnel, but there should be no retaliation. This is a new phenomenon in this state.  They saw the eight CRPF personnel gunned down, but wanted no retaliation. Two militants were killed, but then the sympathies were with the two militants and not the eight CRPF personnel — a typical mindset reflecting a conflict situation. Reasons are not far to seek.  For long, Kashmiris had  felt that the Centre imposes governments on them. “The Indian democracy never crosses Lakahanpur ( the gateway of Jammu and Kashmir bordering Punjab)”, is what late Abdul Gani Lone, the founder of Peoples Conference, said He had contested a number of elections and won. In 1987, he felt cheated, like many others. Syed Ali Shah Geelani had won that election from Sopore. Post-2014 polls, the people in Kashmir could not reconcile to the saffron of the BJP and the green of the PDP marching together. They felt betrayed. This sense of betrayal engendered frustration and hopelessness with a question: If the PDP cannot stand for us, then who can?  Separatists too have chinks in their armour.  Political frustration has made them empathise with  protestors, whom they see representing a challenge to  the system imposed on them. Also, there are hard realities which they cannot overlook. There has been no solution of the Palestinian issue that has been simmering for decades, despite all what the Palestinian groups like the PLO and Hamas could do — ranging from   wars  to intifada  to suicide bombings, shootings at public places and killing  of Israeli soldiers with knives. Kashmiris want a stable and  normal future for their children. “We are happy our children are not here  (Kashmir),” is what one hears from the parents whose children are studying outside the Valley. Obviously, they don’t want  their children to live in  the troubled state  or become a part of  the wheel of violence. Those who cannot afford to educate their children outside have no option. They have the overwhelming desire that their children stay out of trouble and shape their careers in normal times. They want this cycle of violence to come to an end. More than anyone else, Kashmiris pray that no killing should take place so that normalcy can return. They yearn for and wish for restraint on the part of the security forces.  The appeals for restraint to security forces sound music to their ears. But when they are asked to restrain their children from the violent protests, they know that their advice will fall on deaf ears. Their unending dilemma stems from this. A Kashmiri in his thirties advising his child not to venture onto the streets, was told by the child that he had posted something contrary  on his Facebook account for the (children) of others. This is what today’s Kashmir is. 

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