Kashmiri Quagmire

The Srinigar police shoots teargas at demonstrators in front of the Kashmir's biggest mosque- the Jama Mashid.

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It is always better to be on the side that has the upper hand. It is safer. As police retreats several of them throw stones breaking windows of houses facing the mosque. It is frustration, and lack of accountability that makes the police act like a group of vandals. "You want to shoot?" asks me a police major, offering me a gun loaded with a teargas shell. "Only two weeks ago there were similar demonstrations," says the major.

Head Police Constable Raqib Lonar is one Muslim who is trying to control the demonstrations. He believes Kashmir should remain in India. "The army is necessary to be here... They are protecting us," Lonar tells me at his police station. It is hard to judge the honesty of this rare statement. The problem is that in Kashmir very few people speak the truth without hesitation. Everyone here is surrounded by impressions of reality, slogans and hidden agendas. "People are confused and do not know what is really going on," says Lonar, "there are ‘elements' that take advantage of this strike."

In a small catholic church people pray under protection of the Indian Army. Across the street two police vans pull into a small street. Four policemen in a company of a man whose face is covered with a shirt, an informant, leave the vans. Five minutes later they come back pushing a suspect in front of them. This is how things are done in Srinagar.

Indian army officers are eager to shake my hand. It is as if they need encouragement and support. "We are here for your protection," says an army officer outside a church. The Indian army feels alienated by the local population, yet they believe they are fulfilling a necessary function. The army doesn't get support from the local Muslim population, and even local Sighs and Pundit Hindus are hesitant to show their gratitude in fear of retribution from the Muslim extremists.

Private Mukesh Kumar has been serving in Srinagar for two years. Dark skinned, tall, slender, he puts on a wide smile as he notices a foreigner. His outpost is at an edge of a Muslim cemetery, a sensitive area not far from a mosque. Kumar comes from Cuttack in the state of Orissa. He is 22 now and wants to wait another three, four years before he gets married. "There are Hindu, Sigh and Muslim servicemen in my battalion," Kumar says, "but the local population doesn't like us."