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Students are disturbed over militancy and yearning for peace: The Tribune
Kashmir, Oct 12: The longer a political issue festers, the more intractable it becomes. That may seem like a trite observation but a recent study among Kashmir`s students threw up disquieting evidence to back it. The study showed that violence has come to dominate minds to the extent of not only distorting behaviour patterns but also repressing historical memory.
Kashmir, Oct 12: The longer a political issue festers, the more intractable it becomes. That may seem like a trite observation but a recent study among Kashmir’s students threw up disquieting evidence to back it. The study showed that violence has come to dominate minds to the extent of not only distorting behaviour patterns but also repressing historical memory. Almost none of the students who participated could recall events and facts from before the period of militancy. “Almost all were stuck in these ten years, remembering only security-related matters and the history of these ten years,” says Dr Arshad Hussain, the mental health consultant for the study.
Although some of the students who participated were in their late twenties and should have had some memories of the period before violence erupted in 1989, their responses indicated that violence had so permeated their consciousness that no mental space was left for other memories. Even responses regarding the education system or infrastructure focused on the political context and the environment of violence.
Kashmiri Muslim students themselves conducted the study, titled “The Impact of Violence on the Student Community of Kashmir,” sponsored by the relief agency, Oxfam (India) Trust. They interacted with students from a dozen colleges and other institutions of higher education, including medical colleges, the engineering college, polytechnics and the University of Kashmir. Dr Hussain notes that most of the students were from the urban upper classes.
The psychiatrist describes his amazement during interactive sessions such as workshops at the lack of memory about events that occurred before the violence began. Asked to name the first event of one kind or another that they remembered, they invariably pointed to something from the period of violence. He adds that, although most of the students were within the normal range of mental health, he came across a few classic psychiatric ailments and even some complex traumas such as child sex abuse.
The report bluntly states that Raees Ahmed Beigh “had lost his mental balance” after carrying the body of his dearest friend, who had been killed in cross-firing between militants and security forces. Indeed, some of the responses that have been included verbatim in the report sound hysterical. Mohammed Ashraf Jamal of the Degree College Anantnag, says: “A land where people were used to seeing the colour crimson only during sunset has seen over the last 12 years lakes filled with blood of their kith and kin. Don’t ask me anything more about the present situation. You won’t be able to stop me from crying.” Many of the students focus most forcefully on repression by security forces, revealing a state of mind that is terrorised by the constant possibility of search, beating, torture or getting shot in indiscriminate return fire. Some speak of the traumas of militant violence too. Rukhsana Jabeel of the Degree College, Baramulla, for example, describes how militants took her father away. First, they summoned him out while the family was having dinner and began to yell at him, presumably to demand a monetary contribution. When the family thrashed some of the intruders, she says, they took her father away. “A dead body severely tortured and beaten out of shape was returned. Thus was laid down the only source of income of our family.”
Several women spoke against being forced in the disturbed situation to adopt such restrictions as the veil. Mehbooba says: “I am harassed on the roads and in the bus. People cannot stand a woman traveling alone. Every time I passed by a certain road, a man would comment behind my back they will throw acid on you! He would probably say so because I do not cover my head. Last time, I felt that it was enough. So I stopped and slapped him across the face.”
Some of the male students focus on alienation, describing the trauma of being forced by worried families to move to locations outside Kashmir. Amin says that, “though I am physically in Saudi Arabia, my heart is in Srinagar. I may not come back because I cannot stand what is happening to our society but I will always love my people and work towards their betterment.” On the other hand, Najma of Ganderbal speaks of disruption within the valley: “I think militancy, which started in 1989, disrupted the decent way of living. We are living an unsafe life in uncivilised conditions. We are unable to live our lives fully. There is tension and fear always on our minds.”
That appears to be the keynote of what Kashmir’s students feel after 14 years of apparently never-ending violence. One of the students interviewed provides a sobering insight — that, if children are a society’s future, young people are surely its present. A yearning for peace, and a solution that lends dignity, comes through the various students’ voices but the overwhelming shadow that violence has cast on their minds is an ominous sign for the prospect of such a solution.
Although some of the students who participated were in their late twenties and should have had some memories of the period before violence erupted in 1989, their responses indicated that violence had so permeated their consciousness that no mental space was left for other memories. Even responses regarding the education system or infrastructure focused on the political context and the environment of violence.
Kashmiri Muslim students themselves conducted the study, titled “The Impact of Violence on the Student Community of Kashmir,” sponsored by the relief agency, Oxfam (India) Trust. They interacted with students from a dozen colleges and other institutions of higher education, including medical colleges, the engineering college, polytechnics and the University of Kashmir. Dr Hussain notes that most of the students were from the urban upper classes.
The psychiatrist describes his amazement during interactive sessions such as workshops at the lack of memory about events that occurred before the violence began. Asked to name the first event of one kind or another that they remembered, they invariably pointed to something from the period of violence. He adds that, although most of the students were within the normal range of mental health, he came across a few classic psychiatric ailments and even some complex traumas such as child sex abuse.
The report bluntly states that Raees Ahmed Beigh “had lost his mental balance” after carrying the body of his dearest friend, who had been killed in cross-firing between militants and security forces. Indeed, some of the responses that have been included verbatim in the report sound hysterical. Mohammed Ashraf Jamal of the Degree College Anantnag, says: “A land where people were used to seeing the colour crimson only during sunset has seen over the last 12 years lakes filled with blood of their kith and kin. Don’t ask me anything more about the present situation. You won’t be able to stop me from crying.” Many of the students focus most forcefully on repression by security forces, revealing a state of mind that is terrorised by the constant possibility of search, beating, torture or getting shot in indiscriminate return fire. Some speak of the traumas of militant violence too. Rukhsana Jabeel of the Degree College, Baramulla, for example, describes how militants took her father away. First, they summoned him out while the family was having dinner and began to yell at him, presumably to demand a monetary contribution. When the family thrashed some of the intruders, she says, they took her father away. “A dead body severely tortured and beaten out of shape was returned. Thus was laid down the only source of income of our family.”
Several women spoke against being forced in the disturbed situation to adopt such restrictions as the veil. Mehbooba says: “I am harassed on the roads and in the bus. People cannot stand a woman traveling alone. Every time I passed by a certain road, a man would comment behind my back they will throw acid on you! He would probably say so because I do not cover my head. Last time, I felt that it was enough. So I stopped and slapped him across the face.”
Some of the male students focus on alienation, describing the trauma of being forced by worried families to move to locations outside Kashmir. Amin says that, “though I am physically in Saudi Arabia, my heart is in Srinagar. I may not come back because I cannot stand what is happening to our society but I will always love my people and work towards their betterment.” On the other hand, Najma of Ganderbal speaks of disruption within the valley: “I think militancy, which started in 1989, disrupted the decent way of living. We are living an unsafe life in uncivilised conditions. We are unable to live our lives fully. There is tension and fear always on our minds.”
That appears to be the keynote of what Kashmir’s students feel after 14 years of apparently never-ending violence. One of the students interviewed provides a sobering insight — that, if children are a society’s future, young people are surely its present. A yearning for peace, and a solution that lends dignity, comes through the various students’ voices but the overwhelming shadow that violence has cast on their minds is an ominous sign for the prospect of such a solution.