Author: Our Special Correspondent
Publication: The Times
Date: July 22, 1955
[Reproduced in The Times of July
22, 2002}
Following India's independence in
1947, predominantly Muslim Kashmir acceded to the predominantly Hindu Indian
Union. Pakistani incursions had resulted in occupation by the Indian Army
and the establishment of a ceasefire line by the United Nations. The disputed
region's troubles had not, however, diminished its popularity as a holiday
destination.
Smiles are more grimly fixed in
Kashmir than in most holiday resorts and no wonder. Apart from the occupational
purgatory of being eternally pleasant to visitors who are not always themselves
pleasant, Kashmiris have to behave as if the country is not divided by
a cease-fire line, as if the encampments of the Indian army do not look
permanent, and as if the country will never again be disturbed by political
decisions taken in Delhi, Karachi, or at the United nations.
They behave extremely well in the
circumstances. If the smiles are not inspected too closely, the Kashmir
Valley can be the happy valley of popular legend, especially for the visitor
who has ascended from the furnace heat of the Punjab plain. About 35,000
came last year and more are expected this summer. Unlike Baden-Powell's
young officers, not many come to fish or shoot or to trek in the mountains.
"Only the English like trekking", one agent said; and most of the visitors
are now Indian. They do not go far beyond Srinagar's bund, except in excursion
coaches.
The popular Indian approach to Kashmir
is not unlike that of Edwardian single ladies whose water colours of the
Dal Lake turn up from time to time.
Pale Hands I Loved Beside The Shalimar
sets the scene. An art school flourishes, young intellectuals from Indian
industrial towns write of the attractions of the simple life that can only
be found in Kashmir, and poetesses find more rhymes for chenar. Happy in
the knowledge that the cow is protected - a man can still receive seven
years' imprisonment for killing one - their elders sit in the coffee houses
assuring each other how fortunate it is for all concerned that Kashmir
is part of India.
For the foreign visitor, especially
the foreign journalist, it is not quite so satisfying. The Defence Department
in Delhi issues permits without much bother but it soon becomes clear that
the Kashmir Valley is surrounded by a curtain of suspicion. An Indian liaison
officer told your correspondent that only objective journalists could visit
the cease-fire line, and in recent years he had met only one objective
British journalist, a personal friend of the Kashmiri leaders. The United
Nations, which is responsible for the cease-fire, could not help. Not even
the work of the military group could be described.
Letters are opened. In clubs and
restaurants there are printed reminders that politics must not be discussed.
The few permanent English residents, most of them widows of retired soldiers
and civil servants, are from time to time harassed by the police. What
goes on beyond Srinagar's bazaars is not for foreign eyes.
It is a pity for much that goes
on is commendable. If Kashmir can be regarded as an Indian colony, and
it is difficult to see it in any other light, it is a fortunate and pampered
colony. It is not as progressive as the Gold Coast or other English colonies
where elections have been freely held (in the last Kashmir elections few
politicians had the courage to oppose official candidates). Nevertheless,
much has been done for the ordinary Kashmiri.
Most Kashmiris are now reasonably
well fed, perhaps for the first time. The peasant has been released from
a system of land tenure worse than feudal. There are other improvements.
The solitary road to India is being improved, and industries expanded.
The state government has completely
identified itself with India, and on the surface at least, it would seem
most Kashmiris should be content.
The immediate impression is that
the Kashmir problem has been overtaken by events: that no matter what is
said or done elsewhere the state is now part of the Indian Union, irrevocably
- if quiescently.
