Local Muslim women watching and engaging with the Hindu wedding ceremony, Ashima Kaul 2024
Salt of the Earth: Kashmiri's opening interactive spaces
In the last three decades, after the exodus of Kashmiri Pandits from Kashmir Valley in 1990, the society underwent a cultural change. The softer Sufi Islam and its diversity has been replaced by a rather puritanical conservative Wahhabi form of Islam.
The presence of guns exacerbated the tyranny of the ideologues and extremists, who did not allow any public discourse on religious matters that did not suit their perspectives. The weaponization of Islamic thought slowly eroded Kashmir’s local cultural values and practices that had accommodated both Muslim and Hindu faith traditions harmoniously. Previously, Sufi and Shaivite saints like Nund Rishi and Lal Ded had been revered by both Muslims and Hindus. However, the face of new Kashmir was different in its religious outlook. Both mosques and various social media platforms became sites for recruitment of jihad volunteers.
The result was that over the years Kashmir slowly saw an extremist ideology taking root within homes and educational institutions. The political conflict, the proliferation of arms, and the extremist religious ideology all fed into each other to fuel the conflict, making it dangerous to critique or express a different point of view.
I want to share three examples of spaces where through free expression, mutual trust, and shared humanity, Kashmir is beginning to reclaim the critical foundations of its lost soul, striving toward a future that honours its rich cultural legacy and shared values.
Fault Lines in the Faith
When the School of Social Sciences at the Central University in Kashmir invited Prof. Iqbal Hasnain to discuss his recent book, ‘Fault Lines in the Faith’, it signalled a departure from ‘speaking in whispers within confined spaces of silence’ to ‘opening a dialogue and dismantling the extremist ideology through education, inquiry and resistance’.
‘Fault Lines in the Faith’, covers the expansion of political Islam in the modern Arab and non-Arab world. It explores the radicalization of Muslim youth in North America and Europe, as well as the sectarian fault lines and rise of the Shia crescent in the Middle East. The book explains how these developments ultimately lead to the rise of the Islamic State in Iraq and Syria.
The hall in the university was jam-packed with students, who listened attentively to the discussion. The event marked a significant first step in creating an open space for expression, long stifled by the fear of violence that had overshadowed the region for 35 years, especially for the young minds easily brainwashed by the extremists.
It was, perhaps, the first instance since 1990 where issues of radicalization and religious extremism were openly debated in a public forum — an educational institute, no less. The discussion unfolded against the complex backdrop of the Israel-Palestine conflict, adding further depth and urgency to the dialogue. Yet, despite the contentious nature of the topic, the conversation carved out a space for moderate voices, thoughtful deliberation, and contemplative analysis, breaking the silence that fear had so long imposed.
Sanjay Parva’s election campaign
The Assembly election in September and October 2024 opened another critical space for discussion. The election – the first in 10 years – was contested on religious-based identity politics, and the media promoted candidates who had earlier opposed democratic processes.
However, Sanjay Parva, a Kashmiri Pandit who stood as an independent candidate from his home constituency Beerwah, in central Kashmir district, escaped media attention.
To go back from exile and participate in the election was a significant step for Parva, who opened a dialogue space with the local Muslim population as an essential part of his campaign. As a displaced Kashmiri from the minority Pandit community, he said, “For me, these dialogues have been happening for the last 10 years when I started revisiting my home in my village Malmu. People have been coerced into religious identity politics therefore they are unable to perceive the other from any other lens. I wanted to go beyond the faith dynamics and reach out to people as a neutral candidate focusing on welfare and development issues…”
To his surprise, hordes of local youth joined to campaign for him. “When I filed the nomination paper there were two friends with me but when we ended the campaign there were 65 young people who were going on bikes campaigning”, remarked Parva. Their participation in the campaign, with Parva walking with them, holding their hands, counseling them, and listening to their suggestions gave them a sense of self-worth. These educated young people, without jobs and often labelled as ‘stone pelters’ by most politicians, felt they were doing something positive. “They felt a sense of acknowledgment, self-worth, and hope. This is how a new social space was opened with dignity and care”, reflected Parva.
Ashish Ganjoo’s wedding stirs nostalgia
Ashish Ganjoo is a Kashmiri Pandit whose family stayed in Kashmir throughout the turmoil. I attended Ganjoo’s wedding to a Kashmiri Pandit woman whose family has also stayed in Kashmir. On arriving at Ganjoo’s home in Ranipora, a small village in Anantnag, South Kashmir I saw Muslim neighbours participating in the wedding rituals. When the wedding procession reached Hanumanpora, the bride’s village, the entire Muslim community came to the village outskirts to welcome the groom’s party with warmth and enthusiasm. The women gathered at the entrance were singing wanwun, a traditional Kashmiri song that resonated with joy and nostalgia. As the villagers perched on a nearby hillside watching the rituals unfold, a neighbour leaned over while taking some pictures and remarked, “It feels like old times. After 35 years, we are witnessing the same composite culture for which Kashmir was once renowned.”
Ganjoo, surrounded by his relatives, stood with a decorated umbrella held over his head and adorned with dozens of garlands, his face beaming with happiness. “I always dreamed of getting married in Kashmir,” he shared. “The support of local Muslims made it possible to reopen the cultural spaces of bhaichara, insaniyat, and Kashmiriyat (brotherhood, humanity, and mutual respect) that enables and promotes religious harmony.”
Over the past few decades, certain dialogues that had become almost impossible are now slowly finding space in political, social, and academic spheres.
These spaces don’t come easily; they require trust, patience, and a willingness to engage with discomfort. It's these nuanced daily lived-in interactions and experiences of human connections that sustain the peace in the world. These people are the ‘salts of the earth.’ I wonder, though—what more can we do to nurture and protect these fragile but necessary spaces?
Ashima Kaul
coordinates the organisation Yakjah in their work in Jammu and Kashmir. An independent journalist by profession, she has an active interest in interfaith dialogue.
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