Not in our name

Wed, 12 Jul 2006 20:45:00 +0000

My mother is perpetually anxious about me. I am a journalist and write about the conflict in Kashmir, and it makes her worry. Yesterday evening when the serial blasts shook Bombay, I was in our house here in Srinagar, which is the summer capital of Indian-administered Kashmir, and Mother and I were talking about the unending violence in our city. Since armed secessionist rebellion began in 1987, more than 70,000 people have died in the struggle between Indians, Pakistanis and Kashmiris over who will control this region.

Mother and I were talking about what had happened earlier in the day in Srinagar. Around noon I was having coffee with a friend in a cafe in the city center, Lal Chowk, when I heard about a grenade attack on a tourist vehicle near Dal Lake. My friend and I rushed there to find policemen washing blood off the road. The injured had already been taken to a local hospital. A yellow plastic doll lay in the road. I returned to the city center with hopes of visiting the injured in the hospital. In the next two hours, however, four grenades were lobbed in Lal Chowk. Passersby helped the injured, shopkeepers poured buckets or water on burning cars to save the passengers trapped inside.

Salon.com > Basharat Peer

Not in our name