A Story Of Saffron
By Dr Ananya Jahanara Kabir
Kahmirmonitor
15 August, 2003During my recent research visit to Srinagar, I had little time for
shopping. The only item of purchase was high quality saffron for my
parents in Calcutta. Yet that was also a story. The man from Pampore
who came to my houseboat tried to fob me off with some middle-grade
saffron. The muted scent and ludicrously low price of twelve grams of
the 'best stuff' alerted me to the situation. The houseboat owner
leapt into the fray: declaring that I was no 'tourist', he ordered
the saffron man to return with his real 'best stuff'. Half an hour
later, amidst red-faced protestations, some wonderfully fragrant
saffron and a commensurate price changed hands. His embarrassment
visibly increased when I mentioned the necessity of good saffron for
my family's Eid celebrations- revealing myself, in one stroke, as
both connoisseur and co-religionist.Saffron has been an enduring symbol of Kashmiri culture: fragile,
exquisite, and esoteric: the best obtainable only at a price and to
the most knowing. The nearly failed exchange between the saffron
seller and myself also symbolises, for me, the present relationship
between Kashmir and India's many million Muslims. My focus on this
issue may seem misplaced, given my family history of avowed
secularism, and my commitment to a secular India. Yet it is this
history and commitment, in combination with today's political context
in both Kashmir and India, which underpins my assessment of what
Kashmir can do for India's Muslims. This reversal of expected
viewpoint is not meant to erase Kashmiri suffering and trauma during
the past fourteen years but to propose a subject position for
Kashmiri Muslims that can offer a way out of perpetual victimhood and
denied agency. I should also clarify that by 'Muslim' I signal here a
political, cultural, public identity rather than a spiritual,
personal, belief-oriented one (though these can of course overlap).'Secularism' is today an exhausted word in Indian politics. It may be
more accurate to declare a period of 'post-secularism'. This usually
means the lambasting of 'pseudo-secularists', but for me it signals a
more searching return to the use of the concept by a group of
nation-builders in independent India, including Dr Ambedkar, Maulana
Azad, Humayun Kabir and even a rather naïve Nehru. This secularism
included the endorsement, within the Indian constitution, of minority
rights (linguistic and religious) within a pluralist culture. The
linguistic issue was largely resolved by mapping ethno-linguistic
groups on to the federal structure of India. The centre-state
framework has ensured a mostly healthy if volatile relationship
between the heartland and its various 'others'. The most vibrant
states are those who have exercised successful collective bargaining
with the centre. Through voting power, their languages, literatures,
and other creative expressions have entered the national
master-narrative. The current influence enjoyed by regional political
parties and the success of Tamil artistes such as Mani Ratnam and A.
R. Rehman are two sides of the same coin.The fate of India's religious minorities, spread across its
linguistic map, is another matter. Hindutva's onward march makes it
urgent for a secular position to rethink the political and cultural
preservation of religious minority identities. As a Bengali I may not
feel marginalized within India; but as a Muslim I certainly do, and
inevitably I ponder what my 'Muslimness' means historically,
politically, and culturally. Not only should I be able to live with
dignity within the nation irrespective of my religious affiliation (I
would say that this downplaying of religious identities was the
mistake of the 'original secularism'). In fact I should be able to
bring this affiliation to the public sphere with pride. Moreover
others should appreciate my pride and the insecurities that history
has bestowed on me rather than make a fetish of my difference. We
cannot deny that these possibilities have diminished for the Indian
Muslim today. The dissolution of Muslim high culture, systematic ever
since the 'Mutiny' of 1857, became an official process in 1947.
Lamentation for the loss of cultural status is now embedded in our
psyche. Neither can we regain status (as Muslims) easily through the
democratic process: the old Congress is defunct, and our linguistic
diversity cancels out the possibility of putting all our weight
behind any one regional party.
In this bleak scenario it is understandable that Kashmiri Muslims,
contemplating political options before them, will be reluctant to
'return' to the Indian nation. I would ask them to pause and
reconsider. Kashmiri Muslims are, under the present arrangement,
uniquely positioned within India's only Muslim majority state. Let us
rethink the significance of this oft-repeated fact. The coincidence
of demography and federal structure has been the root of India's
paranoia towards Kashmir's political behaviour. The same fear of
'vote bank politics' also marks attitudes towards Indian Muslim
political behaviour. Our dispersal across India has ironically saved
us thus far though Hindutva will take few chances. It is both numbers
and membership of the 'creamy layer' that calls attention to us. Thus
in Gujarat where Muslims were flourishing in business they were
decimated; in rural West Bengal, where Muslims comprise sometimes
more than 25% of the population, the RSS is psychologically mining
the 'porous border' with Bangladesh. But look at Kerala, where the
prosperity and demographic weight of Muslims has created a very
different political and cultural landscape (though here too the RSS
is trying hard by wooing the Christians).
I suggest that Kashmiri Muslims reconsider their position within an
India that is politically different from that India that caused them
finally to rise up in rage some thirteen years ago. Shifting
attention away from Hindutva let us make the rise of regionalism in
national politics the basis of this reconsideration as well as
possible reconciliation. The new state government in the Valley may
be the starting point for this process. Is it too hopeful, if not
offensive, to imagine a future where the state of Jammu and Kashmir
can participate in a meaningful political power sharing arrangement
with a coalition government at the Centre? For this Kashmiris will
have to bargain clearly, which can be only done through a strong,
rebuilt collective identity. To do so out of a position of collective
trauma may sound wishful thinking. But rebuilding has to start from
within. Partly this can happen through demanding fresh investment in
the Kashmiri language (an issue which needs separate discussion);
partly when Kashmiris realise that their potential strength within a
federal Indian framework can offer models of political and cultural
behaviour for India's other Muslims. Kashmiri Muslims who have
perhaps escaped the scars that Partition left on Indian Muslims (or
were affected differently) can remind us of what it is to have a
Muslim public culture within our nation; the sound of the azaan
echoing in common public space can call us to another kind of
gathering.This proposal is NOT the same as a common Indian 'secular' attitude
(which I shall indeed call 'pseudo-secular'): 'we cannot let go of
Kashmir because we have to think of the Indian Muslims who will be
butchered as a result.' To this statement, often made to my face, I
can only say, please do not hold me hostage to the aspirations of
others. Rather, let us, you and I, reclaim and turn to our advantage
this relationship that has been hijacked by others to hide their own
guilt. Let me reread in this light my opening story. Years of feeling
abused and under-appreciated made the saffron seller withhold his
best saffron from me, an Indian. That was his momentary source of
power. Yet he almost inadvertently ruined my family's Eid. until I
was revealed as 'sympathetic' and Muslim. His real power will emerge
when he, a Kashmiri, feels confident enough to show his best saffron
to any Indian, not only a Muslim, and demand for it the best price.
In ensuring that he gets his due, my role can be only that of an
intermediary-but one who is herself helped in the process.(Dr. Ananya Jahanara Kabir is a Lecturer in English, Leeds
University, UK and was recently on a visit to Kashmir)