What do you think?
Rate this book
Curfewed Night
Since the independence of India, Kashmir has been a major concern for not just India but also the world. The issue of Kashmir still is a crucial issue discussed across forums in the global arena and is one of the major hindrances in improving relationship with India’s neighbour and kin of one time. Much has been written about Kashmir and the separatist movement in Kashmir. But the beautifully scripted account of the brutality with which the separatist movement is carried on till date has no precedence. The book, Curfewed Nights, gives an honest, crude, and truthful account of what goes on in the paradise of India which is under the spell of the separatist movement.
The author of the book, Basharat Peer, being a Kashmiri himself has related to each and every detail provided in the book from the first hand experiences gathered by him. Since independence of India, many Kashmiri youths have been mesmerised by the terrorism to the extent that they want to join the terrorist organisations even without thinking about their families or themselves. They have illusioned godfathers in the leaders of such terrorist outfits. In fact, the author was sent out of Kashmir by his family, just to keep him away from these painful romances with the militants.
The book, Curfewed Night, has a lot of heart-rending accounts of how a mother watches her son who is forced to hold an exploding bomb or how a poet discovers his religion when his entire family is killed or how the politicians are tortured inside the refurbished torture chambers or how villages have been rigged with landmines which kills innocent civilians, and how temples have converted into army bunkers while ancient Sufi shrines have been decapitated in bomb blasts.
The author of the book, Basharat Peer, being a Kashmiri himself has related to each and every detail provided in the book from the first hand experiences gathered by him. Since independence of India, many Kashmiri youths have been mesmerised by the terrorism to the extent that they want to join the terrorist organisations even without thinking about their families or themselves. They have illusioned godfathers in the leaders of such terrorist outfits. In fact, the author was sent out of Kashmir by his family, just to keep him away from these painful romances with the militants.
The book, Curfewed Night, has a lot of heart-rending accounts of how a mother watches her son who is forced to hold an exploding bomb or how a poet discovers his religion when his entire family is killed or how the politicians are tortured inside the refurbished torture chambers or how villages have been rigged with landmines which kills innocent civilians, and how temples have converted into army bunkers while ancient Sufi shrines have been decapitated in bomb blasts.
256 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2009
324 people are currently reading
6241 people want to read
About the author
Basharat Peer
7 books157 followersBasharat Peer was born in Kashmir in 1977. He studied journalism and politics at the Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism. He has worked as an editor at Foreign Affairs and served as a correspondent at Tehelka, India's leading English language weekly. His work has appeared in The Guardian, New Statesman, The Nation, Financial Times Magazine, N+1, and Columbia Journalism Review, among other publications. Curfewed Night, his first book, won one of India's top literary awards, the Vodafone Crossword Book Award for English Non Fiction. Peer is a Fellow at Open Society Institute and lives in New York.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 555 reviews
March 30, 2018
This book tells the story of Kashmir as seen through the eyes of the author, Basharat Peer. It is a wonderfully written and candid, if a bit biased, account of the beautiful state which is also called Bhuswarga – paradise on earth. Some people also call it the “Switzerland of India.” But the militancy, which started in 1980s, has made it one of the most dangerous and militarized places in the world.
The author was a teenager when the militancy started in his home state of Kashmir. Many young boys crossed the Line of Control that divides Indian Kashmir and the Pakistan-controlled Kashmir, and received training and arms from Pakistani terrorist groups. The blurb uses the word “idealistic” to refer to them, but I am not sure if that is the most appropriate word to describe them.
The Government of India responded by deploying the army and the paramilitary forces to deal with the militants. In such a scenario, it is always the common man who ends up suffering the most. They are caught between the militants on one hand and the security forces on the other. Willingly or unwillingly the common man has to help the militants. Even a mere suspicion of being pro-Indian would bring retribution from the militants. The security forces are also on the lookout for pro-militant people.
The author admits that he was fascinated by the militants and would have joined but for his father and maternal grandfather. The author’s maternal grandfather was an idealist school teacher while his father – Ghulam Ahmad Peer, a person from a humble background, had become bureaucrat by dint of his hard work. Ghulam Ahmad Peer had great respect for knowledge, loved books and inculcated the habit of reading in the author. Men liken him help maintain sanity in a world full of hatred and violence.
The author was sent off to study in Aligarh and eventually became a reporter in Delhi. But he would go back to Kashmir, write this book and then leave again.
The author has vividly portrayed the sufferings of the common Kashmiris. They have to undergo humiliating military checks every now and then. Some members of the security forces overstep their limits and indulge in torturing innocent people. Some of the victims die while others are left scarred for life. They live in fear of the security forces as well as the militants.
There are some opportunists who send others to death but keep their own children safe. Some individuals keep changing sides when it suits them.
One cannot help but sympathize with the innocent Kashmiris. How terrible it is to live in fear!
I have one criticism (for the lack of a better word) of the book. Since the book is about Kashmir, the author should have also elaborated more on the massacre of the Kashmiri Pandits and the violence meted out to pro-Indian Muslims. I admit that the author has mentioned about the “migration” of the Kashmiri Pandits (the Hindu minority of Kashmir) and attacks on the pro-Indian Muslims. There was an attempt on his father’s life by militants who considered him to be pro-Indian, and the author talks about visiting his Kashmiri Pandit teacher and friends who had to flee their home. But, the author should have talked about the brutalities inflicted on these people which made them refugees in their own state. They ended up in slum-like places in Jammu or some moved to other places in India.
The book is good, but it would have been great if talked about the perspective of the security forces also. State police, paramilitary or the army – all these people live under constant threat to their lives well. They can face bullets, bombs, or lynch mob anytime. The author himself admits in the book, that soldiers mostly come from the rural or urban poor and they do a “dangerous and absurdly low-paying job”. Some of the victims of torture by the security forces also admitted that all soldiers were not bad – there were decent men too. Many of these men would have preferred to be anywhere else but in Kashmir. But, they have mouths to feed at home.
Militancy inevitably leads to such a vicious environment where compatriots have nothing but suspicion, fear and hatred for each other. To the civilians, the security forces are the oppressors but to the soldiers, even the innocent Kashmiris are potential terrorist-sympathizers and anti-nationals.
The author has shared an anecdote about his interactions with a young paramilitary officer. Initially the man was arrogant and hostile. The author would recognize the officer’s “native” state from his surname and say that he had friends from the officer’s caste when he was living in Delhi.
“The power of the caste system was evident in his first smile. He showed signs of relaxation and turned towards me. I talked about my friends form my Delhi University days. He was from Delhi University too. ‘I was in the law faculty, where were you?’ I asked. He had been in a college next to mine. I talked about the university, about the college festivals, the hangouts, the rivalries, the girls’ hostel nearby, almost everything one misses about university life. He seemed to have transformed into a Delhi University alumnus and forgotten he was an Indian paramilitary officer posted in Kashmir. His language changed as he spoke……’Give me a fag, man! And get me some tea,’ he smiled. We had tea and smoked. He apologized; the room full of journalists apologized back. Peace was made. As he began to leave, he said, ‘I was a different man before I joined the force and came to Kashmir.’ “
This chance encounter made the author realize that this officer was not much different from his former militant friend who “wanted to know about discotheques and girls.” Yet young men fought and killed each other in hundreds. Those who survived became a very different individual.
The author ends with the hope that “ some day they could cease being part of processes that reduced individuals to suspects or military targets, shorn of all human complexity; processes that left them with bare nomenclatures like militants, soldiers, paramilitaries. I hoped that some day they could return to their homes..”
Noble thoughts but there are powerful vested interests who won’t let that happen that easily. But who knows? One day the state would return to normalcy. Brainwashed youths would realize that the way of the militant is only ruining their beautiful state. The mindless violence would stop, and the money spent on deploying and maintaining the security forces could be spent on social welfare such as healthcare, infrastructure and education.
This book reminded me of a letter a retired military officer had posted on social media. It was addressed to a young militant leader who had been killed by the security forces, and meant for people glorifying the late militant. The officer said, “You could have been an engineer, a doctor, an archeologist or a software programmer ...” but he chose the life of the militant and met his end.
I am not saying that India is perfect, but most people can sleep peacefully at night. Our country has been growing steadily. Many people have lifted themselves out of poverty, people from very humble backgrounds are making it to colleges and getting decent jobs, more youngsters are opening their own business and so on. While Indian scientists have been sending missions to the space, there are still people who are killing each other in the name of religion, ethnicity, ideology and what not. The question is - why not take part in the Indian growth story, and much better why not contribute to it. That way you can have a significant positive impact on the lives of the people who care about or claim to care about.
The author was a teenager when the militancy started in his home state of Kashmir. Many young boys crossed the Line of Control that divides Indian Kashmir and the Pakistan-controlled Kashmir, and received training and arms from Pakistani terrorist groups. The blurb uses the word “idealistic” to refer to them, but I am not sure if that is the most appropriate word to describe them.
The Government of India responded by deploying the army and the paramilitary forces to deal with the militants. In such a scenario, it is always the common man who ends up suffering the most. They are caught between the militants on one hand and the security forces on the other. Willingly or unwillingly the common man has to help the militants. Even a mere suspicion of being pro-Indian would bring retribution from the militants. The security forces are also on the lookout for pro-militant people.
The author admits that he was fascinated by the militants and would have joined but for his father and maternal grandfather. The author’s maternal grandfather was an idealist school teacher while his father – Ghulam Ahmad Peer, a person from a humble background, had become bureaucrat by dint of his hard work. Ghulam Ahmad Peer had great respect for knowledge, loved books and inculcated the habit of reading in the author. Men liken him help maintain sanity in a world full of hatred and violence.
The author was sent off to study in Aligarh and eventually became a reporter in Delhi. But he would go back to Kashmir, write this book and then leave again.
The author has vividly portrayed the sufferings of the common Kashmiris. They have to undergo humiliating military checks every now and then. Some members of the security forces overstep their limits and indulge in torturing innocent people. Some of the victims die while others are left scarred for life. They live in fear of the security forces as well as the militants.
There are some opportunists who send others to death but keep their own children safe. Some individuals keep changing sides when it suits them.
One cannot help but sympathize with the innocent Kashmiris. How terrible it is to live in fear!
I have one criticism (for the lack of a better word) of the book. Since the book is about Kashmir, the author should have also elaborated more on the massacre of the Kashmiri Pandits and the violence meted out to pro-Indian Muslims. I admit that the author has mentioned about the “migration” of the Kashmiri Pandits (the Hindu minority of Kashmir) and attacks on the pro-Indian Muslims. There was an attempt on his father’s life by militants who considered him to be pro-Indian, and the author talks about visiting his Kashmiri Pandit teacher and friends who had to flee their home. But, the author should have talked about the brutalities inflicted on these people which made them refugees in their own state. They ended up in slum-like places in Jammu or some moved to other places in India.
The book is good, but it would have been great if talked about the perspective of the security forces also. State police, paramilitary or the army – all these people live under constant threat to their lives well. They can face bullets, bombs, or lynch mob anytime. The author himself admits in the book, that soldiers mostly come from the rural or urban poor and they do a “dangerous and absurdly low-paying job”. Some of the victims of torture by the security forces also admitted that all soldiers were not bad – there were decent men too. Many of these men would have preferred to be anywhere else but in Kashmir. But, they have mouths to feed at home.
Militancy inevitably leads to such a vicious environment where compatriots have nothing but suspicion, fear and hatred for each other. To the civilians, the security forces are the oppressors but to the soldiers, even the innocent Kashmiris are potential terrorist-sympathizers and anti-nationals.
The author has shared an anecdote about his interactions with a young paramilitary officer. Initially the man was arrogant and hostile. The author would recognize the officer’s “native” state from his surname and say that he had friends from the officer’s caste when he was living in Delhi.
“The power of the caste system was evident in his first smile. He showed signs of relaxation and turned towards me. I talked about my friends form my Delhi University days. He was from Delhi University too. ‘I was in the law faculty, where were you?’ I asked. He had been in a college next to mine. I talked about the university, about the college festivals, the hangouts, the rivalries, the girls’ hostel nearby, almost everything one misses about university life. He seemed to have transformed into a Delhi University alumnus and forgotten he was an Indian paramilitary officer posted in Kashmir. His language changed as he spoke……’Give me a fag, man! And get me some tea,’ he smiled. We had tea and smoked. He apologized; the room full of journalists apologized back. Peace was made. As he began to leave, he said, ‘I was a different man before I joined the force and came to Kashmir.’ “
This chance encounter made the author realize that this officer was not much different from his former militant friend who “wanted to know about discotheques and girls.” Yet young men fought and killed each other in hundreds. Those who survived became a very different individual.
The author ends with the hope that “ some day they could cease being part of processes that reduced individuals to suspects or military targets, shorn of all human complexity; processes that left them with bare nomenclatures like militants, soldiers, paramilitaries. I hoped that some day they could return to their homes..”
Noble thoughts but there are powerful vested interests who won’t let that happen that easily. But who knows? One day the state would return to normalcy. Brainwashed youths would realize that the way of the militant is only ruining their beautiful state. The mindless violence would stop, and the money spent on deploying and maintaining the security forces could be spent on social welfare such as healthcare, infrastructure and education.
This book reminded me of a letter a retired military officer had posted on social media. It was addressed to a young militant leader who had been killed by the security forces, and meant for people glorifying the late militant. The officer said, “You could have been an engineer, a doctor, an archeologist or a software programmer ...” but he chose the life of the militant and met his end.
I am not saying that India is perfect, but most people can sleep peacefully at night. Our country has been growing steadily. Many people have lifted themselves out of poverty, people from very humble backgrounds are making it to colleges and getting decent jobs, more youngsters are opening their own business and so on. While Indian scientists have been sending missions to the space, there are still people who are killing each other in the name of religion, ethnicity, ideology and what not. The question is - why not take part in the Indian growth story, and much better why not contribute to it. That way you can have a significant positive impact on the lives of the people who care about or claim to care about.
September 15, 2013
Curfewed Night is a poignant peek into a Kashmir that the rest of us Indians can't even fathom to imagine. Any political commentator who claims that India is a soft state just needs to look at the excesses of the military in the Valley. I have never been too bothered by politics and I've always wondered why others get so agitated when Kashmir is missing from the Indian map. How can a few missing lines hurt you? And after finishing this book I feel that the rest of India actually have no right to feel any umbrage for a few missing lines on a map. We haven't had military boots shoved into our faces, our neighbours and loved ones haven't been dragged away in the dead of the night by army men, we haven't lost an entire generation of young men fighting for freedom against a state that they scarcely feel any connection to and we certainly don't have the right to make the choice about Kashmir. It's sad how all the conflict zones around the world - Eastern Europe, Africa, Middle East all have a similar story - a tale whose origin is very blurred and people no longer remember what they're fighting for. But the book isn't without complete hope, you can almost see peace on the horizon, a hope that this situation will be resolved sooner or later.
January 21, 2020
Outside, the curfewed night lay in its silence like a man waiting in ambush.For Kashmiris, the nights are terrible. They have to be inside by sundown, or be prey to the stray bullets which can start flying any time in your friendly neighbourhood. And inside the house, they have to be extra careful that no light or sound escapes outside. Even then, there may come the dreaded knock at the door in the middle of the night - it may be armed militants asking for shelter, or the army looking for militants. And whatever they do, the night may end in torture, rape or death.
It was a good thing that I read this book immediately after Our Moon Has Blood Clots: The Exodus of the Kashmiri Pandits by Rahul Pandita - it was like seeing a picture from two opposite angles. While Pandita describes the plight of Kashmiri Pandits when militants suddenly started attacking them of the night of January 19 in 1990, Basharat Peer tells us about how things came to that pass.
Peer has no loyalty to India, even though he is officially an Indian. Most Kashmiri Muslims consider India to be illegally occupying Kashmir (and not without reason - though that is a BIG story, better kept for wintry nights). He tells of his childhood when he and his friends were virulently anti-India in everything (cricket is especially a sore point between Pandits and Muslims). However, things were limping on without much problem until the 1987 election, which was widely seen as rigged by India. Muslims started protesting. Smelling an opportunity, Pakistan started importing militants into India. On the night of January 19th, the Indian army fired on protestors on Gawkadal Bridge, killing a great many of them - and the powder keg that was Kashmir found its spark.
While Pandita's book chronicles the travails of the exiled Pandits, Peer tells us about the inferno called Kashmir in the early 1990's. For youth (including the author), activism was a heady intoxication. Sensing "aazaadi" (freedom) just around the corner, a number of them crossed over to Pakistan occupied Kashmir and returned as arms-trained militants. None of them lived long, however - they fell prey to army bullets sooner or later. But that was all part of the romance.
Basharat Peer was all set to cross over to the life of a militant when his family decided to take a hand. His father, a government servant, had imagined a life in the civil services for him. The way this learned gentleman weaned his impressionable young son away from the road to perdition should be a lesson to all parents. Talking to him calmly, he told him that fighting for freedom was not the problem: the problem was the means. Because no lasting victory is gained through weapons, but only through ideas.
'Nehru and Gandhi studied law in England and both were very good writers. You have seen their books in our library. Vaclav Havel is a very big writer. The Dalai Lama has read a lot and can teach so many things to people. None of them used guns but they changed history. If you want to do something for Kashmir, I would say you should read.'Weaned of his revolutionary tendencies (at least for the time being), the author finished his schooling and went away to Delhi, for college and a career in the civil services. In the capital city, he came to realise two things very fast. One: 'India' was totally different from what he had thought it to be - multi-hued and multi-voiced, it was a pluralistic, vibrant country and not the evil occupying force Kashmiris considered it to be. Two: as a Kashmiri, he was persona non grata mostly everywhere, especially after the 2003 parliament attack by Kashmiri militants. Soon, he left his ambitions for government service and became a journalist.
(One of the most poignant passages in the book is about how, while searching for a house to rent and getting snubbed everywhere due to his identity, Basharat is finally given a room to stay in the house of an elderly Kashmiri Pandit lady. They bond immediately as Kashmiris in an alien city.
I fought my tears; after months of suspicion I was being welcomed and treated with respect. 'Go get your bags,' she said. I returned with my bags in an hour and she showed me my room. Over an empty bed hung a picture of Ganesha. 'Shall I take it off?' she asked. It stayed.)
Peer soon decided that he had to tell the story of Kashmir, from a Kashmiri point of view. He resigned his job and moved back permanently, where a broken city awaited him.
Srinagar is a medieval city dying in a modern war. it is empty streets, locked shops, angry soldiers and boys with stones. It is several thousand military bunkers, four golf courses, and three bookshops. It is wily politicians repeating their lies about war and peace to television cameras and small crowds gathered by the promise of an elusive job or a daily fee of a few hundred rupees. It is stopping at sidewalks and traffic lights when the convoys of rulers and their patrons in armoured cars, secured by machine guns, rumble on broken roads. It is staring back or looking away, resigned. Srinagar is never winning and never being defeated.Basharat travelled the length and breadth of Kashmir, collecting and telling stories of Kashmiris - Hindus, Muslims, militants, informers, secular revolutionaries, poets... and the picture that emerges is heart-breaking. We have the tale of youngsters tortured, some with reason and some without - of men being unable to lead normal sexual lives because of the shock treatments their penises have been subject to. We have the tale of a bride, raped hours after her wedding by Indian soldiers. We have the tale of a poet who stopped writing when he lost all his family in a militant attack. We hear about ancient temples and monuments, either destroyed by militants or converted to army installations. And in this chaos, we also have tales of friendship, of humanity, stretching across divides of state and religion.
Basharat Peer tells it like it is. If you are a patriotic Indian for whom the country can do no wrong, this book may ruffle your feathers. The author's anti-Indian bias is stated at the beginning itself; he believes in the freedom of Kashmir and its existence as a separate country. However, his writing is very balanced - and poignant.
What I took away from this book was the conviction that no amount of force will heal the festering wound of Kashmir. For that, we need to win hearts - something very difficult to do with guns.
June 24, 2016
“Home is people. Not a place. If you go back there after the people are gone, then all you can see is what is not there any more.”
----Robin Hobb
Basharat Peer, an Indian author, has penned his poignant memoir, Curfewed Night where he flawlessly captures the conflicted as well as forgotten pain of the pastoral state of India through his childhood days till adulthood and the author has also captivated the strong sense of one's own "home" be it idyllic or broken or tortured. Through this memoir, the author has walked down into the memory lane of his childhood days in Kashmir.
Synopsis:
Basharat Peer was a teenager when the separatist movement exploded in Kashmir in 1989. Over the following years countless young men, seduced by the romance of the militant, fueled by feelings of injustice, crossed over the Line of Control to train in Pakistani army camps. Peer was sent off to boarding school in Aligarh to keep out of trouble. He finished college and became a journalist in Delhi. But Kashmir—angrier, more violent, more hopeless—was never far away.In 2003, the young journalist left his job and returned to his homeland to search out the stories and the people which had haunted him. In Curfewed Night he draws a harrowing portrait of Kashmir and its people. Here are stories of a young man’s initiation into a Pakistani training camp; a mother who watches her son forced to hold an exploding bomb; a poet who finds religion when his entire family is killed. Of politicians living in refurbished torture chambers and former militants dreaming of discotheques; of idyllic villages rigged with landmines, temples which have become army bunkers, and ancient sufi shrines decapitated in bomb blasts. And here is finally the old story of the return home—and the discovery that there may not be any redemption in it.
Very obviously, I was instantly left intrigued and arrested after reading the synopsis of this book, while browsing it at a quaint yet renowned Kashmiri bookshop located at a congested corner on Residency Road, Srinagar. All throughout my stay at Srinagar, I was left appalled with the stories or rather say the history of Kashmir shared by the driver of my hired car, hence I was born with this urge to read and know more about such stories and those forgotten history in depth. And, there's no doubt that Basharat Peer came to my rescue with his memoir where he narrates his childhood glory days turning into a nightmare by the mid eighties as insurgency took birth in the form of militants with Kalashnikov fighting for freedom of Kashmir and the injustice done by the Indian army over the course of so many years.
The author unfolds the honest brutality of the great Indian Army sniffing and raining down bullets if something is slightly amiss because of a possible militants' attack but that is not the painful part, the real shocking revelation is that during those bullet raining, innocent lives including children, brother, sister, husband, felt prey to it. The author captures the change among the landscape as well as among the local people's demeanor when common people started to avenge for what the army did to their and homeland over the years, but mostly because of their demand for plebiscite of Kashmir within its own sovereignty. Azadi! Azadi! slogan was chanted like a holy mantra through the valleys as the author encounters hundreds and thousands of everyday scenes dominated by such slogans.
The author's writing is expressive and is extremely personal thus the readers are bound to feel a connection towards the author's plight. The narrative is appealing yet evocative which will make the readers feel with a sense of longing and nostalgia towards their own childhood days. The pacing is smooth and swift as the author gradually pulls his readers into the depth of his memoir. It seems while penning his memoir, the author has simply poured out all his emotions from his best days to his nightmarish days in Kashmir.
The author's father manages to make his son leave the unrest and struggling valley of paradise so that he can finish his education without any disturbance in Aligarh. After his graduation, Peer takes up a job at a local daily newspaper as a journalist where he learns about the struggling life a fresh journalist out of college by constantly staying on his feet to look out for any kind of breaking story. Although all those while, his thoughts and mind remained occupied with his hometown and the violence happening over there. Hence after a few years, he goes back to his district in Srinagar, where he interviews people who have either lost someone or have lost themselves in the war. And those stories are really powerful and honest enough to bring tear in the eyes of the readers.
The sufficed pain of the common Kashmiri folks is very well arrested by the author with his journey to absolution in the picturesque valley of snow-capped mountains and clear blue streams and the vast green flora. The author's portrayal of Kashmir is enticing and vivid as he paints a charming landscape as well as the culture and religion of Kashmir filled with monuments like decorated mosques, old buildings with traditional architecture overlooking the river Jhelum or its tributary Lidder river or the Dal Lake in the city of Srinagar. Then eventually with the progress of his life story, the author diligently changes the once mesmerizing beauty of Kashmir into something dark filled with army bunkers, streets filled with army patrolling cars, armed personnel guarding a hidden corner of a building and some army soldiers are constantly checking and frisking the common Kashmiri folks thereby disrupting the normalcy in their daily lives.
In a nutshell, this book is a must-read, not because of the fact that this is a non-fictional and a rather true account of the fate and history of Kashmir with the author's own eyes, but rather because it is more real and emotional to experience the author's journey as well as Kashmir's delicate history in the minds of the readers.
Verdict: This compelling yet evocative memoir is a must read as it holds the power to change the perspective of the readers about Kashmir.
----Robin Hobb
Basharat Peer, an Indian author, has penned his poignant memoir, Curfewed Night where he flawlessly captures the conflicted as well as forgotten pain of the pastoral state of India through his childhood days till adulthood and the author has also captivated the strong sense of one's own "home" be it idyllic or broken or tortured. Through this memoir, the author has walked down into the memory lane of his childhood days in Kashmir.
Synopsis:
Basharat Peer was a teenager when the separatist movement exploded in Kashmir in 1989. Over the following years countless young men, seduced by the romance of the militant, fueled by feelings of injustice, crossed over the Line of Control to train in Pakistani army camps. Peer was sent off to boarding school in Aligarh to keep out of trouble. He finished college and became a journalist in Delhi. But Kashmir—angrier, more violent, more hopeless—was never far away.In 2003, the young journalist left his job and returned to his homeland to search out the stories and the people which had haunted him. In Curfewed Night he draws a harrowing portrait of Kashmir and its people. Here are stories of a young man’s initiation into a Pakistani training camp; a mother who watches her son forced to hold an exploding bomb; a poet who finds religion when his entire family is killed. Of politicians living in refurbished torture chambers and former militants dreaming of discotheques; of idyllic villages rigged with landmines, temples which have become army bunkers, and ancient sufi shrines decapitated in bomb blasts. And here is finally the old story of the return home—and the discovery that there may not be any redemption in it.
Very obviously, I was instantly left intrigued and arrested after reading the synopsis of this book, while browsing it at a quaint yet renowned Kashmiri bookshop located at a congested corner on Residency Road, Srinagar. All throughout my stay at Srinagar, I was left appalled with the stories or rather say the history of Kashmir shared by the driver of my hired car, hence I was born with this urge to read and know more about such stories and those forgotten history in depth. And, there's no doubt that Basharat Peer came to my rescue with his memoir where he narrates his childhood glory days turning into a nightmare by the mid eighties as insurgency took birth in the form of militants with Kalashnikov fighting for freedom of Kashmir and the injustice done by the Indian army over the course of so many years.
The author unfolds the honest brutality of the great Indian Army sniffing and raining down bullets if something is slightly amiss because of a possible militants' attack but that is not the painful part, the real shocking revelation is that during those bullet raining, innocent lives including children, brother, sister, husband, felt prey to it. The author captures the change among the landscape as well as among the local people's demeanor when common people started to avenge for what the army did to their and homeland over the years, but mostly because of their demand for plebiscite of Kashmir within its own sovereignty. Azadi! Azadi! slogan was chanted like a holy mantra through the valleys as the author encounters hundreds and thousands of everyday scenes dominated by such slogans.
The author's writing is expressive and is extremely personal thus the readers are bound to feel a connection towards the author's plight. The narrative is appealing yet evocative which will make the readers feel with a sense of longing and nostalgia towards their own childhood days. The pacing is smooth and swift as the author gradually pulls his readers into the depth of his memoir. It seems while penning his memoir, the author has simply poured out all his emotions from his best days to his nightmarish days in Kashmir.
The author's father manages to make his son leave the unrest and struggling valley of paradise so that he can finish his education without any disturbance in Aligarh. After his graduation, Peer takes up a job at a local daily newspaper as a journalist where he learns about the struggling life a fresh journalist out of college by constantly staying on his feet to look out for any kind of breaking story. Although all those while, his thoughts and mind remained occupied with his hometown and the violence happening over there. Hence after a few years, he goes back to his district in Srinagar, where he interviews people who have either lost someone or have lost themselves in the war. And those stories are really powerful and honest enough to bring tear in the eyes of the readers.
The sufficed pain of the common Kashmiri folks is very well arrested by the author with his journey to absolution in the picturesque valley of snow-capped mountains and clear blue streams and the vast green flora. The author's portrayal of Kashmir is enticing and vivid as he paints a charming landscape as well as the culture and religion of Kashmir filled with monuments like decorated mosques, old buildings with traditional architecture overlooking the river Jhelum or its tributary Lidder river or the Dal Lake in the city of Srinagar. Then eventually with the progress of his life story, the author diligently changes the once mesmerizing beauty of Kashmir into something dark filled with army bunkers, streets filled with army patrolling cars, armed personnel guarding a hidden corner of a building and some army soldiers are constantly checking and frisking the common Kashmiri folks thereby disrupting the normalcy in their daily lives.
In a nutshell, this book is a must-read, not because of the fact that this is a non-fictional and a rather true account of the fate and history of Kashmir with the author's own eyes, but rather because it is more real and emotional to experience the author's journey as well as Kashmir's delicate history in the minds of the readers.
Verdict: This compelling yet evocative memoir is a must read as it holds the power to change the perspective of the readers about Kashmir.
October 11, 2012
I had a really tough time with this book. It lurked on my bookshelf for so long because I used to pick it up, read a few pages, put it down and pick up another book. It was extremely difficult to finish reading it. Was it so bad? No it wasn't. Was it so painful? It was painful but that was not the reason why I didn't feel like reading it. The real reason was that I think as always when the story of a state/country is told, it is a one-sided view. And since this one-sided view showed a lot of hate towards my country, I cringed while reading it.
I must applaud the author for picking up a topic so close to his heart and exploring it all that he could and then writing it down. It takes a lot of courage to do that. A lot of things that I was unaware of were revealed to me in this book.
The book is a compiled list of history of Kashmir and what it has seen all this years; how the people there have survived, killed and been killed.
Although towards the end, the author does try to look at it from the other side but it is a mere trifle compared to the rest of the book. The author due to his past experiences, is full of hatred and his account may be one-sided and biased.
Somehow the book is disjointed, it jumps from one incident to another but the flow is not smooth.
Overall, you may want to pick up this book if you want to see things from the Kashmir point of view.
I must applaud the author for picking up a topic so close to his heart and exploring it all that he could and then writing it down. It takes a lot of courage to do that. A lot of things that I was unaware of were revealed to me in this book.
The book is a compiled list of history of Kashmir and what it has seen all this years; how the people there have survived, killed and been killed.
Although towards the end, the author does try to look at it from the other side but it is a mere trifle compared to the rest of the book. The author due to his past experiences, is full of hatred and his account may be one-sided and biased.
Somehow the book is disjointed, it jumps from one incident to another but the flow is not smooth.
Overall, you may want to pick up this book if you want to see things from the Kashmir point of view.
February 13, 2021
When I finished reading this book I felt that one particular atrocity mentioned in the book stood out from the rest – the rape of Mubeena. It remains etched in the memories of many and altered the traditional norm of wedding celebrations after dusk. A bus carrying a man, his bride, her chambermaid and his close male relatives was fired at by Indian soldiers of the border safeguard force. And wounded or not they were ordered to step outside the vehicle. The men, all close relatives were beaten en masse till most of them passed out while Mubeena and her chambermaid were dragged off to a field and raped by an unknown number of BSF men.
I picked this book along with Rahul Pandita’s ‘Our moon has blood clots’ as a read up to understand the scrapping of Article 370 better. And I can’t contain my rage. The other side of the story ought to be heard. I did a little research and found out that Jammu and Kashmir was bought by Maharaja Gulab Singh from the East India Company in 1846. His subjects were content under the Dogra dynasty until the 1930s when there were mass uprisings against Maharaja Hari Singh which eventually led to the “Quit Kashmir movement” of 1946. To no avail. The United Nations’ demand of a plebiscite in 1948 was not met with but Article 370 of the Indian constitution provided some relief to Kashmir in 1950. As a result, the constitution of Jammu and Kashmir that was drafted in 1956 defined itself as an integral part of India. But the first amendment to article 370 that came as a blow ensued in 1960 and Indian jurisdiction extended over Jammu and Kashmir. By 1965, India changed J&K's Prime ministerial title to Chief Minister and henceforth, its Sadr-i-riyasat came to be known as Governor. Voices of protest were unheeded yet again. Peoples’ anger knew no bounds when Sheikh Abdullah won the rigged elections of 1977 and thus began Kashmiri youth’s inclination to militancy. Between 1977 and 1989 militancy was on the rise and in 1990, when hundreds of Kashmiri youth died in clashes with the Indian army while they were protesting against Indian administration, they turned their vengeance on Kashmiri Pandits. Between 1990 and 2000 military camps mushroomed and both the Indian army and separatist militancy suffered incalculable causalities.
The author writes about his teenage in boarding school where he was drawn to the power of some militants only a few years older than himself carrying a Kalashnikov and dressed in fatigues and duck back shoes. He was dissuaded in the nick of time by his family that laid emphasis on education. Basharat Peer also discusses the motives of adolescents crossing the border over to Pakistan for their arms training, their return home which was celebrated, how army personals would come knocking at the door of houses looking for these newly trained militants and how families would accept that they’re no more once the knocking on the door stopped.
Basharat Peer doesn't spare us from the details of the third degree torture many Kashmiri youth are subjected to. Those that survive are scarred for life. Kashmiris have had to carry a Govt issued id card which could mean life or death for them during humiliating military checks they’re subjected to every so often. The author shares his story and that of his kith and kin and thus Kashmir, through Curfewed Night. I recommend this book especially to Indians to understand the Kashmir issue better. If only there was a solution! Till it resolves we can only hope like the author "… someday the war they were fighting and the reasons for its existence would disappear like footsteps on winter snow in my childhood."
I picked this book along with Rahul Pandita’s ‘Our moon has blood clots’ as a read up to understand the scrapping of Article 370 better. And I can’t contain my rage. The other side of the story ought to be heard. I did a little research and found out that Jammu and Kashmir was bought by Maharaja Gulab Singh from the East India Company in 1846. His subjects were content under the Dogra dynasty until the 1930s when there were mass uprisings against Maharaja Hari Singh which eventually led to the “Quit Kashmir movement” of 1946. To no avail. The United Nations’ demand of a plebiscite in 1948 was not met with but Article 370 of the Indian constitution provided some relief to Kashmir in 1950. As a result, the constitution of Jammu and Kashmir that was drafted in 1956 defined itself as an integral part of India. But the first amendment to article 370 that came as a blow ensued in 1960 and Indian jurisdiction extended over Jammu and Kashmir. By 1965, India changed J&K's Prime ministerial title to Chief Minister and henceforth, its Sadr-i-riyasat came to be known as Governor. Voices of protest were unheeded yet again. Peoples’ anger knew no bounds when Sheikh Abdullah won the rigged elections of 1977 and thus began Kashmiri youth’s inclination to militancy. Between 1977 and 1989 militancy was on the rise and in 1990, when hundreds of Kashmiri youth died in clashes with the Indian army while they were protesting against Indian administration, they turned their vengeance on Kashmiri Pandits. Between 1990 and 2000 military camps mushroomed and both the Indian army and separatist militancy suffered incalculable causalities.
The author writes about his teenage in boarding school where he was drawn to the power of some militants only a few years older than himself carrying a Kalashnikov and dressed in fatigues and duck back shoes. He was dissuaded in the nick of time by his family that laid emphasis on education. Basharat Peer also discusses the motives of adolescents crossing the border over to Pakistan for their arms training, their return home which was celebrated, how army personals would come knocking at the door of houses looking for these newly trained militants and how families would accept that they’re no more once the knocking on the door stopped.
Basharat Peer doesn't spare us from the details of the third degree torture many Kashmiri youth are subjected to. Those that survive are scarred for life. Kashmiris have had to carry a Govt issued id card which could mean life or death for them during humiliating military checks they’re subjected to every so often. The author shares his story and that of his kith and kin and thus Kashmir, through Curfewed Night. I recommend this book especially to Indians to understand the Kashmir issue better. If only there was a solution! Till it resolves we can only hope like the author "… someday the war they were fighting and the reasons for its existence would disappear like footsteps on winter snow in my childhood."
July 3, 2015
A must read for every Indian. The Kashmir story told by a Kashmiri. Breaks many presumptions Indians generally have about the Kashmir problem and the Indian army.
A war may or may not bring glory, but it surely does leave lives shattered, minds debilitated and sometimes souls repented. More so, if it goes on for years after years. Deeply moving and disturbing stories of all of them- Muslim youths who joined the militancy, dreamed of Azaadi but died young labelled as terrorists; Hindu Pandits who flee the serene valley to the hustling plains, only with a hope of returning back some day; and Kashmiris staring at the gun nozzle from both the sides. A society where a door knock after sunset is an alarm for danger to the life and a morning stroll is impossible without an identity card, checks and frisks and the fear of a bomb exploding somewhere nearby is very real, uncertainty of life cannot be more.
Pages after pages, author narrates stories of people affected by the insurgency; lives taken by the army and by the militants; and the wounds of war screeched across every life, every hope and every ambition. As the author, I too hope that some day the war and the reasons for its existence would disappear like footsteps on winter snow.
Again, a must read for every Indian. :)
A war may or may not bring glory, but it surely does leave lives shattered, minds debilitated and sometimes souls repented. More so, if it goes on for years after years. Deeply moving and disturbing stories of all of them- Muslim youths who joined the militancy, dreamed of Azaadi but died young labelled as terrorists; Hindu Pandits who flee the serene valley to the hustling plains, only with a hope of returning back some day; and Kashmiris staring at the gun nozzle from both the sides. A society where a door knock after sunset is an alarm for danger to the life and a morning stroll is impossible without an identity card, checks and frisks and the fear of a bomb exploding somewhere nearby is very real, uncertainty of life cannot be more.
Pages after pages, author narrates stories of people affected by the insurgency; lives taken by the army and by the militants; and the wounds of war screeched across every life, every hope and every ambition. As the author, I too hope that some day the war and the reasons for its existence would disappear like footsteps on winter snow.
Again, a must read for every Indian. :)
January 9, 2014
If Injustice was done with kashmiri hindus so was with the innocent muslims. Murder/ death of a human whether one belongs to hindu community or muslim is tragic. But what is worse is living forever under the threat of death, of living in chains. Violence and vioation of human beings is never a solution. Kashmir faced not just viloence but violation of basic humanity irrespective of religion or caste. The kashmir that was, no longer is. It is the culture, tradition, the people who made kashmir, that was destroyed along with the humanity and brotherhood that existed. This book is based on the experience of the muslim kashmiri and how those who stayed suffered by both the militants as well as the indian military. But, as my father would say, being a kashmiri pandit, the sufferings of KPs remain minor as their numbers. They are never fully told and never really fought for. Hopefully, every kashmiri pandit would know better to write their story and tell it too. But I strongly believe, it should no longer be just about being a hindu or a muslim. It should be about being a Kashmiri. The kashmir that was taken away from both the muslims and the hindus. The kashmir we have heard stories of, the love and brotherhood every muslim had for hindu and every hindu had for thw muslims. This is time to fight, to raise our voice for kashmir. Not for kashmiri pandits or muslims. But for Kashmir.
This book on a literary level is extremely well written. Both sides of the story, the innocent KPs, muslims, those who joined HM and those who left it, those whose lives were destroyed by indian military and the militants everything has been written about. And written well. A good basic book about the Human tragedy in Kashmir.
This book on a literary level is extremely well written. Both sides of the story, the innocent KPs, muslims, those who joined HM and those who left it, those whose lives were destroyed by indian military and the militants everything has been written about. And written well. A good basic book about the Human tragedy in Kashmir.
June 23, 2009
I REALLY wanted to like this, having met Peer a few times on the NYC journo/policy circuit. I get, sort of, what he's trying to do here, to give us an image of Kashmiris as basically a nation without a state, stuck within the nation-state of India and to take the religious nature of the conflict between Pakistan and India OVER Kashmir off the table. As a journalist, he does a good job being fair in advancing this view, giving us nuanced and diverse pictures of all the parties involved in the Kashmir-India conflict HE'S narrating and he has a few powerful turns of phrase. But structurally, the book doesn't have a narrative arc; it's almost too journalistic, anecdote piled upon anecdote with the occasional pull back to restate the thesis, which itself doesn't build or grow from beginning to end. That's fine in a 500 word news piece; in a memoir, there needs to be some growth. Suffice to say, it's not Train to Pakistan, but certainly, it's good enough that if Peer writes a sequel, I'll read it.
August 26, 2009
Curfewed Night is probably the first account of modern Kashmir written BY a Kashmiri. That alone is remarkable, given that most books on Kashmir, if they're not geopolitical or conflict-resolutionary, are accounts by Indian and Western journalists or activists. Peer is a journalist, so that definitely comes off in his memoir- it's a lot less literary than one would like, but he is definitely able to get his point across. At first, I wanted him to be more analytical- especially at the end, and give his thoughts on a solution to the situation, etc- but he doesn't. But thinking about that a bit more, I think I appreciate it-- many pages have been written on how to resolve Kashmir, and this isn't what he's trying to do. He's giving his own personal story, the stories of his friends and loved ones, and allowing people to finally face the human dimensions of the situation there.
I would definitely recommend this book to people who want to know more about Kashmir as well as most Indians, who really have NO idea what's going on (or don't care).
I would definitely recommend this book to people who want to know more about Kashmir as well as most Indians, who really have NO idea what's going on (or don't care).
December 18, 2020
Certainly a better book written by a Kashmiri guy who once evolved from 'want to be' militant to be an aspiring writer and journalist.
Basharat Peer belongs to upper middle class educated family. Intelligently raised by his father and grandfather, Peer tremendously narrated neutral account of every day life of people who lose their sons. A lot of youth is encouraged to fight for armed groups and some of them somehow manage to turn back their lives.
What I love about this book is that it didn't consist of history lessons which could argue about Kashmir being annexed to Pakistan or India. It simply tells role of both countries in this current war torn region.
Basharat Peer belongs to upper middle class educated family. Intelligently raised by his father and grandfather, Peer tremendously narrated neutral account of every day life of people who lose their sons. A lot of youth is encouraged to fight for armed groups and some of them somehow manage to turn back their lives.
What I love about this book is that it didn't consist of history lessons which could argue about Kashmir being annexed to Pakistan or India. It simply tells role of both countries in this current war torn region.
July 15, 2014
An evocative account of life in Kashmir.Instead of focusing on the politico-historical aspects of the conflict,the author keeps things personal through his own memories and interactions with various actors in the scene - failed militants,disrupted marriages,lost sons,raped brides,dilapidated shrines.What emerges out of this is a book which will make for uncomfortable reading to anyone who sincerely believes in the Idea of India. An important book which must be made mandatory reading for students of this complex country.
March 20, 2020
An immature propagandist narrative veiled very thinly by descriptions of beauty of Kashmir, but unable to hide the ugliness of the local politics dictated from across the border, with false talks of freedom or faith but in reality aimed at massacring non muslims, and generally at grabbing land and property thereof.
The author, Basharat, talks much of freedom, and one wonders how much of that is a calculation to evoke world sympathy, especially in US - does he know about the Civil War of confederate states with the same slogans of freedom and self determination, squashed so very thoughroughly under the yankee boot just post British doing the same to India?
Funnily enough he gives another clue to his mindset, and perhaps there is calculation there of impressing a racist people too, with repeated mentions of light colours of eyes, skin et al, of people of Kashmir - which is highly amusing, since such light eyes and even hair is far from unknown through India, even as far south as the southern provinces, but not particularly given importance in India as a factor of beauty, much less of any other criteria. As such he is exposing a racist mindset inculcated in pak, and far less subtly than he thinks at that.
One has to wonder if youth brought up on lies and misguided into glorifying death, murders, massacres et al, with scanty excuse of faith or however the ideological garb is thrown on it all to dress up what is naked lust of killing, ever quite grow up and see the scales fall from their mind's eyes, or whether they hold on to the blinders with desperation of fear of seeing light.
Basharat here is frank about his early teen years of idolosing weapon toting jihadi terrorists, wanting to join them, desperation to cross border into pak for training so he could return and kill before dying young, and being not quite dissuaded by his concerned family who persuaded him to first grow up and keep up with education. Funnily enough he mentions his parents being deliberately targeted with mine blast by terrorists, with a narrow escape due to the terrorists' mistake of calculation, but still regards them as righteous and the military that protects people of Kashmir as perpetrators of horrors. Such contradictions abound in the narrative.
Basharat professes pride in independence and freedom of women of his state, in education and achievements of academic nature, but fails to see that if it were not for India protecting those parts of Kashmir that he lived in, the women he is happy to see free might have been shot in head and worse, like women of Kashmir occupied by pak since '48, as Malala was in the northern parts of the state, or worse, like what Afghan women went through during decades of terrorists' rule sponsored by pak.
He mentions "migration" of non muslims out of Kashmir, mostly Hindu, with disdain about their being scared because a "few hundred were killed"; then he is genuine in recounting tale of a night when terrorists attacked the military near his village and the whole village fled across fields to another village from fear of reprisals! Reality is, Hindu Kashmiris and other non muslims of the state were explicitly ordered to leave if they wished to survive without converting, and also informed they could not take any of their belongings with them, including women. Thousands were in fact massacred, and other thousands had their women kidnapped to be taken across border as objects for use of pak terrorists.
That muslims of Kashmir allowed this to happen to their neighbours, and did not defend them against the terrorists from across the border, is easy for someone like him to not see, or excuse. That the military has to defend the nation, including from terrorists and those sympathising with them, can only make sense to those that do not wish to see the nation destroyed.
But Basharat is like the typical teen that regards his own fear, life, pain etc as very important, while discounting those of others, and calling them cowards. His talk of "migration" of Hindus is not unlike that of some Germans talking of Jews fleeing Germany, rather than admit the truth of camps and holocaust.
At that, the slogans and marches he mentions chanting 'azaadi', I.e. freedom, are evocative - more than anything else - of S.A. brownshirts agitating for 'freedom' from Jews for their race; it's no less racist, and just as fraudulent.
But the Kristallnacht for Kashmir non muslims, 19th January 1990, he remembers as his marching for freedom, rather than what it was, which is, the frightening night when mosque loudspeakers went on ordering the non muslims through night to convert, leave or be murdered, but leave without property, the said property including women!
And of course he fails to see that Kashmir would never be independent, as Baluchistan isn't - in fact they both were until pak attacked each in turn, and while India was able to protect Kashmir at least in parts, those parts of either that India could not protect are since going through horrendous massacres.
He describes military torturing locals while he fails to see or describe, much less compare, the horrors of terrorists raping thousands and killing several times that many, mostly non muslims. Perhaps that is why it matters not at all to him.
Another such contradiction is his inability to see that celebrating pak independence and a black day for independence of India is as asinine as it gets - pak was a piece tourniquetted off the land of India, and without independence of India there would be no pak at all. What's more, independence of India was fought for by those that would rather see the nation whole, while muslim league which wrested a piece for intolerance played no role in the independence struggle, other than collaborating with british rulers and blocking freedom struggle.
That the land given to pak belonged mostly to provinces, with exception of Bengal, that voted against joining pak, but were forced anyway to separate from India, is another such contradiction - and there are many more, in pak official lies, in the pak propaganda of decades since partition, and more.
Basharat should really have a talk with those that know better, such as Tarek Fateh - he might come to see the hideousness of hero worship of a killer sent to murder the descendants of the prophet of his faith, while disdaining the people who gave refuge to the said descendants. There is much more, but it is more or less along the same lines.
Small mistake in book, he mentions "Mahaakaala" being "literally, God of Death" - he is wrong, and he should know that much, having lived in Delhi. Kaala is Time, and death is merely one aspect of the Divine that is associated with Time. Which, also he ought to know, has no finality as such in India, life being but one of many a soul lives through. As such even interpretation of the name as God of Death has only the finality of a curtain ringing down, for the act or for the evening - there is always another performance, another play of Divine, another day, another Dawn. And so the Deity he mentions is merely clearing what needs to be cleared so Creation can continue.
The author, Basharat, talks much of freedom, and one wonders how much of that is a calculation to evoke world sympathy, especially in US - does he know about the Civil War of confederate states with the same slogans of freedom and self determination, squashed so very thoughroughly under the yankee boot just post British doing the same to India?
Funnily enough he gives another clue to his mindset, and perhaps there is calculation there of impressing a racist people too, with repeated mentions of light colours of eyes, skin et al, of people of Kashmir - which is highly amusing, since such light eyes and even hair is far from unknown through India, even as far south as the southern provinces, but not particularly given importance in India as a factor of beauty, much less of any other criteria. As such he is exposing a racist mindset inculcated in pak, and far less subtly than he thinks at that.
One has to wonder if youth brought up on lies and misguided into glorifying death, murders, massacres et al, with scanty excuse of faith or however the ideological garb is thrown on it all to dress up what is naked lust of killing, ever quite grow up and see the scales fall from their mind's eyes, or whether they hold on to the blinders with desperation of fear of seeing light.
Basharat here is frank about his early teen years of idolosing weapon toting jihadi terrorists, wanting to join them, desperation to cross border into pak for training so he could return and kill before dying young, and being not quite dissuaded by his concerned family who persuaded him to first grow up and keep up with education. Funnily enough he mentions his parents being deliberately targeted with mine blast by terrorists, with a narrow escape due to the terrorists' mistake of calculation, but still regards them as righteous and the military that protects people of Kashmir as perpetrators of horrors. Such contradictions abound in the narrative.
Basharat professes pride in independence and freedom of women of his state, in education and achievements of academic nature, but fails to see that if it were not for India protecting those parts of Kashmir that he lived in, the women he is happy to see free might have been shot in head and worse, like women of Kashmir occupied by pak since '48, as Malala was in the northern parts of the state, or worse, like what Afghan women went through during decades of terrorists' rule sponsored by pak.
He mentions "migration" of non muslims out of Kashmir, mostly Hindu, with disdain about their being scared because a "few hundred were killed"; then he is genuine in recounting tale of a night when terrorists attacked the military near his village and the whole village fled across fields to another village from fear of reprisals! Reality is, Hindu Kashmiris and other non muslims of the state were explicitly ordered to leave if they wished to survive without converting, and also informed they could not take any of their belongings with them, including women. Thousands were in fact massacred, and other thousands had their women kidnapped to be taken across border as objects for use of pak terrorists.
That muslims of Kashmir allowed this to happen to their neighbours, and did not defend them against the terrorists from across the border, is easy for someone like him to not see, or excuse. That the military has to defend the nation, including from terrorists and those sympathising with them, can only make sense to those that do not wish to see the nation destroyed.
But Basharat is like the typical teen that regards his own fear, life, pain etc as very important, while discounting those of others, and calling them cowards. His talk of "migration" of Hindus is not unlike that of some Germans talking of Jews fleeing Germany, rather than admit the truth of camps and holocaust.
At that, the slogans and marches he mentions chanting 'azaadi', I.e. freedom, are evocative - more than anything else - of S.A. brownshirts agitating for 'freedom' from Jews for their race; it's no less racist, and just as fraudulent.
But the Kristallnacht for Kashmir non muslims, 19th January 1990, he remembers as his marching for freedom, rather than what it was, which is, the frightening night when mosque loudspeakers went on ordering the non muslims through night to convert, leave or be murdered, but leave without property, the said property including women!
And of course he fails to see that Kashmir would never be independent, as Baluchistan isn't - in fact they both were until pak attacked each in turn, and while India was able to protect Kashmir at least in parts, those parts of either that India could not protect are since going through horrendous massacres.
He describes military torturing locals while he fails to see or describe, much less compare, the horrors of terrorists raping thousands and killing several times that many, mostly non muslims. Perhaps that is why it matters not at all to him.
Another such contradiction is his inability to see that celebrating pak independence and a black day for independence of India is as asinine as it gets - pak was a piece tourniquetted off the land of India, and without independence of India there would be no pak at all. What's more, independence of India was fought for by those that would rather see the nation whole, while muslim league which wrested a piece for intolerance played no role in the independence struggle, other than collaborating with british rulers and blocking freedom struggle.
That the land given to pak belonged mostly to provinces, with exception of Bengal, that voted against joining pak, but were forced anyway to separate from India, is another such contradiction - and there are many more, in pak official lies, in the pak propaganda of decades since partition, and more.
Basharat should really have a talk with those that know better, such as Tarek Fateh - he might come to see the hideousness of hero worship of a killer sent to murder the descendants of the prophet of his faith, while disdaining the people who gave refuge to the said descendants. There is much more, but it is more or less along the same lines.
Small mistake in book, he mentions "Mahaakaala" being "literally, God of Death" - he is wrong, and he should know that much, having lived in Delhi. Kaala is Time, and death is merely one aspect of the Divine that is associated with Time. Which, also he ought to know, has no finality as such in India, life being but one of many a soul lives through. As such even interpretation of the name as God of Death has only the finality of a curtain ringing down, for the act or for the evening - there is always another performance, another play of Divine, another day, another Dawn. And so the Deity he mentions is merely clearing what needs to be cleared so Creation can continue.
August 1, 2015
The book starts off well, with the narration of childhood memories from the author and tries to give a glimpse of life in Kashmir. But as the story progresses, it becomes increasingly one-sided and biased.
I'm saying this not because I'm the kind of person who can't read bad things about her country even if it's true; I'm saying this becasue there is no proper justification given for the origin of those sentiments.
For ex: The author says, "Despite the rather sleepy existence of our village and my ignorance about the political history of Kashmir, I had a sense of the alienation and resentment most Kashmiri Muslims felt against Indian rule". Why? There's no explaination for this sentiment. Are we to believe that this is a confession of the prejudice the author held?
Also, Pakistan's role in training the militancy is just casually mentioned in a passive voice. There's also repeated mentioning of "Pakistan-'administered' Kashmir" and "Indian-'occupied' Kashmir"
At one point, author mentions that the Kashmiri Pandits ran off of Kashmir because they were scared of attacks by Indian military. One has to wonder how can the author relate to this sentiment when there's been no mention of any relation he's shared with his Pandits counterparts in the school.
I understand that this book is a narrative of one person's experience and you can't just invalidate it, but then you can't sell it as a true story of Kashmir.
I'm saying this not because I'm the kind of person who can't read bad things about her country even if it's true; I'm saying this becasue there is no proper justification given for the origin of those sentiments.
For ex: The author says, "Despite the rather sleepy existence of our village and my ignorance about the political history of Kashmir, I had a sense of the alienation and resentment most Kashmiri Muslims felt against Indian rule". Why? There's no explaination for this sentiment. Are we to believe that this is a confession of the prejudice the author held?
Also, Pakistan's role in training the militancy is just casually mentioned in a passive voice. There's also repeated mentioning of "Pakistan-'administered' Kashmir" and "Indian-'occupied' Kashmir"
At one point, author mentions that the Kashmiri Pandits ran off of Kashmir because they were scared of attacks by Indian military. One has to wonder how can the author relate to this sentiment when there's been no mention of any relation he's shared with his Pandits counterparts in the school.
I understand that this book is a narrative of one person's experience and you can't just invalidate it, but then you can't sell it as a true story of Kashmir.
September 13, 2016
A very readable account of the Kashmiri man's side of the story. As with a personal account, there is bound to be some bias, but in this case some of the biases r significant.
Whether the bias is due to incompetence or intention, i do not know. Further Reading is recommended to get a rounded picture.
Edited in 2016 (a couple of yrs later) :- MJ Akbar writes with irony of a saying in his book on Kashmir - "If u go to a Kashmiri with a sob-story, u will hear a greater sob-story." It is amazing how Kashmiris are completely blind to their numerous faults, to the religious separatism that reared up its head after the Iranian Revolution and Afghan Mujahideen, to the ethnic cleansing of Pandits they did as has been documented by Rahul Pandita who is a leftist too. Far more Indians will be willing to accept that maybe India did make well-intentioned mistakes here and there, but find me a Kashmiri who will accept the same for Kashmir and Kashmiris. Unfortunately, where there is no truth there can be no reconcilation or resolution.
Whether the bias is due to incompetence or intention, i do not know. Further Reading is recommended to get a rounded picture.
Edited in 2016 (a couple of yrs later) :- MJ Akbar writes with irony of a saying in his book on Kashmir - "If u go to a Kashmiri with a sob-story, u will hear a greater sob-story." It is amazing how Kashmiris are completely blind to their numerous faults, to the religious separatism that reared up its head after the Iranian Revolution and Afghan Mujahideen, to the ethnic cleansing of Pandits they did as has been documented by Rahul Pandita who is a leftist too. Far more Indians will be willing to accept that maybe India did make well-intentioned mistakes here and there, but find me a Kashmiri who will accept the same for Kashmir and Kashmiris. Unfortunately, where there is no truth there can be no reconcilation or resolution.
August 8, 2016
Bias, bias and more bias. Allowing a bit of leeway as it is a first person memoir, the author still shocks with the way he describes militants as innocents. You feel as if he still harbours ill feelings towards 'India', which he describes as an alien/foreign country throughout the book. Although he describes himself as well read, I have serious doubts about his claims. Some of his stories evoke genuine grief, but when you are waging a war, that too for secession, there will be collateral damage. Would have been better if he had eliminated the justifications for militancy and shared the blame instead of depicting India as the butcher and Kashmiris as lambs. Does not evoke much empathy.
September 13, 2019
Read this long time back. Too biased.
May 2, 2015
This is a really important book that was written in the most beautiful way possible for a non-fiction one to be. That's why I gave it 5 stars, although there were some little details that I may not have liked or understood completely.
This book is not easy to read, although it's just about facts and memories of a man living in a place called Kashmir. For anyone who hasn't heard about this place, it is located between India and Pakistan, and it is absolutely beautiful. If I remember correctly, it was commented by the former US president Bill Clinton as the most beautiful, also the most dangerous place in the entire world. Because there has always been a constant war, a constant battle, a constant conflict mainly between Kashmir people and the Indian government over the right to official rule this region, happening inside Kashmir that have been taking thousands and millions of innocent lives, which the world has chose to ignore.
Throughout the book I've got to see not only the growth of the author from a little boy with bittersweet, happy and horrendous memories in the land of war, to a grown up man who decided to came back to his root and give Kashmir people, Kashmir war a voice, but also the painful, terrifying situation the Kashmir people have had to endure. Young children, grown up man, or elderly people; students, workers, or any people in any kind of profession, could be killed because of not only participating in fighting, but also just simply because of living in the bombing zones. Countless of people dying and being buried without being identified, hundreds of mothers and fathers crying over the deaths of their children; man being pointed out, tortured and stolen lives right in the modern times... It was hard reading to these parts, but that was necessary hardness for readers to fully realize and be aware of how serious the conflict in Kashmir has been.
The author's way of expressing and putting those details in parallel with his growing up was not that kind of absolutely emotional or heartbreaking; instead, he chose a kinda cold, natural way of writing, and let the details, the incidents, be emotional themselves. That was even more powerfully moving than writer trying to be emotional over things that are not. And the ending, when the Bridge of Peace and a bus tour trying to make amends to Kashmir people after many years of constant battle and separation by giving Kashmir separated families a chance to finally meet their loved ones from the other side of the war, was really touching and philosophically meaningful. I just loved it so so very much.
There are more amazing things about this books that I just cannot put them all together in this hurriedly-written review, and I highly recommend all the people in this world, if you want to explore more about Kashmir lives, war, love, friendship through the lens, the memories of a man who actually came from there, pick this book up and devour it. Not that kind of emotionally moving - a trait often belongs to the books that I normally gave 5 stars rating to - but I still gave this book 5 stars. Read to be more aware, more knowledgeable about a war that the world has chose to ignore, and to love this life more, to love the fact that many of us are blessed to live in places where there are no constant gunshots or bombings everyday.
This book is not easy to read, although it's just about facts and memories of a man living in a place called Kashmir. For anyone who hasn't heard about this place, it is located between India and Pakistan, and it is absolutely beautiful. If I remember correctly, it was commented by the former US president Bill Clinton as the most beautiful, also the most dangerous place in the entire world. Because there has always been a constant war, a constant battle, a constant conflict mainly between Kashmir people and the Indian government over the right to official rule this region, happening inside Kashmir that have been taking thousands and millions of innocent lives, which the world has chose to ignore.
Throughout the book I've got to see not only the growth of the author from a little boy with bittersweet, happy and horrendous memories in the land of war, to a grown up man who decided to came back to his root and give Kashmir people, Kashmir war a voice, but also the painful, terrifying situation the Kashmir people have had to endure. Young children, grown up man, or elderly people; students, workers, or any people in any kind of profession, could be killed because of not only participating in fighting, but also just simply because of living in the bombing zones. Countless of people dying and being buried without being identified, hundreds of mothers and fathers crying over the deaths of their children; man being pointed out, tortured and stolen lives right in the modern times... It was hard reading to these parts, but that was necessary hardness for readers to fully realize and be aware of how serious the conflict in Kashmir has been.
The author's way of expressing and putting those details in parallel with his growing up was not that kind of absolutely emotional or heartbreaking; instead, he chose a kinda cold, natural way of writing, and let the details, the incidents, be emotional themselves. That was even more powerfully moving than writer trying to be emotional over things that are not. And the ending, when the Bridge of Peace and a bus tour trying to make amends to Kashmir people after many years of constant battle and separation by giving Kashmir separated families a chance to finally meet their loved ones from the other side of the war, was really touching and philosophically meaningful. I just loved it so so very much.
There are more amazing things about this books that I just cannot put them all together in this hurriedly-written review, and I highly recommend all the people in this world, if you want to explore more about Kashmir lives, war, love, friendship through the lens, the memories of a man who actually came from there, pick this book up and devour it. Not that kind of emotionally moving - a trait often belongs to the books that I normally gave 5 stars rating to - but I still gave this book 5 stars. Read to be more aware, more knowledgeable about a war that the world has chose to ignore, and to love this life more, to love the fact that many of us are blessed to live in places where there are no constant gunshots or bombings everyday.
April 10, 2013
I started my year with “Curfewed Night”. The book by Basharat Peer is blunt about the turmoil of Kashmiri people and its anti Indian stand. It may hurt a few sentiments here and there, but it is what it is in Kashmir.
Kashmir, a princely state, was unfortunately straddling between the most politically sensitive states (to-be-countries). After tribal attacks from the Pakistani tribes, the Maharaja of Kashmir, Hari Singh, chose to sign a treaty of accession with India and also demanded a referendum later. From then on Kashmir became a turbulent terrain of problems. While Pakistan is still fighting to take control of parts of it, India holds that it is still a part of the diverse country and has granted it autonomy. Amidst all this the people in the state want “independence”. This book chronicles the bloody past and ongoing violence of Kashmir through the writer’s eyes.
Peer’s writing is beautifully descriptive. The valley is splendidly described. Sample this;
"Spring was the season of green mountains and meadows, blushing snow and the expanse of yellow mustard flowers in the fields around our village."
And the emotions are hauntingly deep. Read these lines:
"I hoped that some day the war they were fighting and the reasons for its existence would disappear like footsteps on winter snow in my childhood."
It is also candid in portraying emotions. The author talks about his villagers supporting Pakistan in a India vs. Pakistan cricket match. He says how crossing the border to become a militant was something every feisty youth wanted to do. This line says it all:
" 'You were in the police and already knew how to use guns. Then why did you go to Pakistan?' Yusuf laughed. 'Just to see Pakistan! And, then, it is like a certificate, a degree that you are a real militant! Otherwise, people wouldn't take me seriously.' "
He opines about schooling that is often disrupted because of the conflict. The author later shifts to Delhi for further studies, during the time when his parents escape a near mortal danger. His urge to write about Kashmir brings him back to his home, and he is inspired to write all that he knows about the valley. He writes about an ill-fated bride who faces extremities of inhumanity on her wedding night, about the torture chamber, PapaII, about the vicious cycle of bribery that kith of the deceased face to get their compensations, about road travels that were filled with multiple obstacles, about a boy who was forced to hold a bomb in his hand while it exploded, about dilapidated temples that was converted into bunkers, about shrinking land space in graveyards, about inhuman treatment, about lost hopes and about strangulatated dreams.
Peer makes you share his angst while provoking sympathy for the people in the conflict torn valley. His grief is clearly expressed in these lines:
"The plane took off after a violent sprint on the runway. Houses grew smaller, paddies turned into neat green squares, metal roads connecting villages shrank into black lines, and the coquettish clouds took new shapes. I turned away from the window. The poet had lied about paradise."
The book is definitely a story that many of us are unaware of. Read it, prepare to be emotionally devastated.
Kashmir, a princely state, was unfortunately straddling between the most politically sensitive states (to-be-countries). After tribal attacks from the Pakistani tribes, the Maharaja of Kashmir, Hari Singh, chose to sign a treaty of accession with India and also demanded a referendum later. From then on Kashmir became a turbulent terrain of problems. While Pakistan is still fighting to take control of parts of it, India holds that it is still a part of the diverse country and has granted it autonomy. Amidst all this the people in the state want “independence”. This book chronicles the bloody past and ongoing violence of Kashmir through the writer’s eyes.
Peer’s writing is beautifully descriptive. The valley is splendidly described. Sample this;
"Spring was the season of green mountains and meadows, blushing snow and the expanse of yellow mustard flowers in the fields around our village."
And the emotions are hauntingly deep. Read these lines:
"I hoped that some day the war they were fighting and the reasons for its existence would disappear like footsteps on winter snow in my childhood."
It is also candid in portraying emotions. The author talks about his villagers supporting Pakistan in a India vs. Pakistan cricket match. He says how crossing the border to become a militant was something every feisty youth wanted to do. This line says it all:
" 'You were in the police and already knew how to use guns. Then why did you go to Pakistan?' Yusuf laughed. 'Just to see Pakistan! And, then, it is like a certificate, a degree that you are a real militant! Otherwise, people wouldn't take me seriously.' "
He opines about schooling that is often disrupted because of the conflict. The author later shifts to Delhi for further studies, during the time when his parents escape a near mortal danger. His urge to write about Kashmir brings him back to his home, and he is inspired to write all that he knows about the valley. He writes about an ill-fated bride who faces extremities of inhumanity on her wedding night, about the torture chamber, PapaII, about the vicious cycle of bribery that kith of the deceased face to get their compensations, about road travels that were filled with multiple obstacles, about a boy who was forced to hold a bomb in his hand while it exploded, about dilapidated temples that was converted into bunkers, about shrinking land space in graveyards, about inhuman treatment, about lost hopes and about strangulatated dreams.
Peer makes you share his angst while provoking sympathy for the people in the conflict torn valley. His grief is clearly expressed in these lines:
"The plane took off after a violent sprint on the runway. Houses grew smaller, paddies turned into neat green squares, metal roads connecting villages shrank into black lines, and the coquettish clouds took new shapes. I turned away from the window. The poet had lied about paradise."
The book is definitely a story that many of us are unaware of. Read it, prepare to be emotionally devastated.
August 14, 2020
I read this book long back and I am still haunted by the truth it presents. Never have I been able to connect with a book like this. Maybe it’s the fact that what this book portrays is still our reality here in Kashmir. But I remember, how sad and heartbroken I felt when this book made me revisit our bloodstained history. And the fact that nothing has changed after all these years makes it even more melancholic.
Hope I’ll read this book again someday and I won’t see the same bloodshed and torment when I look around myself.
Hope I’ll read this book again someday and I won’t see the same bloodshed and torment when I look around myself.
March 31, 2018
I'm frequently amazed at how little contemporary reporting there is on the Kashmir conflict, given the staggering militarization and human suffering that it has engendered. As such this book is a welcome contribution to the literature on the subject. written by a young Kashmiri who has lived through the conflict himself. Basharat Peer was born and raised in Kashmir and this book serves as both his memoir and an elegy for that beautiful but troubled land. The book is sensitively written and manages to humanize all sides of the conflict. I was amazed at the resilience of many those he interviewed, including so many who have suffered rape, torture and the death of loved ones at the hands of Indian security forces. The level of brutalization inflicted on Kashmir over the past several decades is hard to comprehend. I'm glad that Peer has now chosen to dedicate his life to documenting it and I hope that others in India and beyond will follow his example.
February 19, 2014
Cựu tổng thống Mỹ Bill Clinton nói rằng Kashmir là nơi nguy hiểm nhất thế giới và "Đêm giới nghiêm" đã khẳng định điều đó.
Chiến tranh, xung đột, chết chóc, súng đạn, nghĩa quân là những từ được lặp đi lặp lại trong cuốn sách đẫm máu và nước mắt này.
Nhưng điều tôi khâm phục hơn hết thảy ở Basharat Peer là tình yêu vô bờ bến của anh dành cho quê hương xứ sở của mình, khi anh đang an toàn ở một nơi xa khỏi sự xung đột thì anh vẫn quyết định quay lại Kashmir bất chấp những bất ổn nơi đây. Để viết về những con người đau khổ, những cái chết không ai nhắc tới và về vùng đất bị lãng quên. Đâu phải ai cũng có đủ can đảm và tình yêu để làm điều đó.
Chiến tranh, xung đột, chết chóc, súng đạn, nghĩa quân là những từ được lặp đi lặp lại trong cuốn sách đẫm máu và nước mắt này.
Nhưng điều tôi khâm phục hơn hết thảy ở Basharat Peer là tình yêu vô bờ bến của anh dành cho quê hương xứ sở của mình, khi anh đang an toàn ở một nơi xa khỏi sự xung đột thì anh vẫn quyết định quay lại Kashmir bất chấp những bất ổn nơi đây. Để viết về những con người đau khổ, những cái chết không ai nhắc tới và về vùng đất bị lãng quên. Đâu phải ai cũng có đủ can đảm và tình yêu để làm điều đó.
January 8, 2013
I was not very mush moved with the book, as I have also lived in the valley for almost 6 yrs. I was there during the beginning of militancy of 89-90's and even during the Kargil war.It potrays a very alien story about the army men deployed in Kashmir and many instances author was getting mixed up with his thoughts.
Only thing that made me read this book was, I wanted to know from local Kashmiri's perspective.
Only thing that made me read this book was, I wanted to know from local Kashmiri's perspective.
August 19, 2018
I took it up after reading Our Moon Has Blood Clots by Rahul Pandita to know the other side of the story.
But it was deeply disappointing read. While Rahul's account is characterized by a writing style which is detached and greatly moving at the same time, Peer tries so hard to push a point. Rahul's writing is lucid and engaging, with peer, it isn't so comfortable.
Apart from the writing style, as to the content, by Peer's own admission, the absence of any work on the plight of Kashmiri Muslims loomed large on his mind. The book seems like a conscious and laboured effort to fill that gap instead of being a spontaneous flow of emotions.
While talking about Kashmir, this book is curiously conspicuous by its neglect of genocide and mass exodus of Kashmiri Pandits. This leaves a gaping hole in any story of Kashmir. I was hoping to find out, what Basharat, as a Kashmiri Muslim thought of rise of extremism, sectarian violence and uprooting of Pandits from their motherland, but to my loss, Peer doesn't really talk about these aspects.
As to the sense of insecurity among Muslims in the valley due to rising presence of military, increasing curfews etc, Basharat also fails to explore the roots of these insecurities. It seems only a catalogue of insecurity, without going into the reasons, psychology, emotions behind them. This was perhaps inevitable because it would involve acknowledging rise of terrorism head on in the valley, which Peer avoids to the extend possible.
For example, in one case, some terrorist are planning to attack on a military convoy and villagers are trying to dissuade them due to the fear of military retaliation on the whole village later. When the terrorist doesn't deter, villagers flee the village and hide in nearby places, hoping to see the smoke rising from their homes....long wait.... nothing happens. Apparently, military hasn't decided to punish the whole village for acts of few.
Such instances are more than few, and after reading them, one is forced to think that if there were no military atrocities, at least in early days, what were Kashmiris so afraid of? Was their insecurity genuine? Why was there even a sympathy with terrorists in the first place?
The answers to these questions will inevitably lead to acceptance of long present Muslims majoritarian agenda in Kashmir. But doing this will lead to justification of military presence to some extent. And that, is not in the scheme of things of this book.
While Rahul Pandits explores that Hindu Muslim devide and Hindu insecurity that existed long before actually insurgency, Basharat doesn't want to talk about this.
Overall, this book seems to be motivated only by presenting a partisan account of things instead of exploring the 1990s Kashmir in its entirety.
But it was deeply disappointing read. While Rahul's account is characterized by a writing style which is detached and greatly moving at the same time, Peer tries so hard to push a point. Rahul's writing is lucid and engaging, with peer, it isn't so comfortable.
Apart from the writing style, as to the content, by Peer's own admission, the absence of any work on the plight of Kashmiri Muslims loomed large on his mind. The book seems like a conscious and laboured effort to fill that gap instead of being a spontaneous flow of emotions.
While talking about Kashmir, this book is curiously conspicuous by its neglect of genocide and mass exodus of Kashmiri Pandits. This leaves a gaping hole in any story of Kashmir. I was hoping to find out, what Basharat, as a Kashmiri Muslim thought of rise of extremism, sectarian violence and uprooting of Pandits from their motherland, but to my loss, Peer doesn't really talk about these aspects.
As to the sense of insecurity among Muslims in the valley due to rising presence of military, increasing curfews etc, Basharat also fails to explore the roots of these insecurities. It seems only a catalogue of insecurity, without going into the reasons, psychology, emotions behind them. This was perhaps inevitable because it would involve acknowledging rise of terrorism head on in the valley, which Peer avoids to the extend possible.
For example, in one case, some terrorist are planning to attack on a military convoy and villagers are trying to dissuade them due to the fear of military retaliation on the whole village later. When the terrorist doesn't deter, villagers flee the village and hide in nearby places, hoping to see the smoke rising from their homes....long wait.... nothing happens. Apparently, military hasn't decided to punish the whole village for acts of few.
Such instances are more than few, and after reading them, one is forced to think that if there were no military atrocities, at least in early days, what were Kashmiris so afraid of? Was their insecurity genuine? Why was there even a sympathy with terrorists in the first place?
The answers to these questions will inevitably lead to acceptance of long present Muslims majoritarian agenda in Kashmir. But doing this will lead to justification of military presence to some extent. And that, is not in the scheme of things of this book.
While Rahul Pandits explores that Hindu Muslim devide and Hindu insecurity that existed long before actually insurgency, Basharat doesn't want to talk about this.
Overall, this book seems to be motivated only by presenting a partisan account of things instead of exploring the 1990s Kashmir in its entirety.
May 11, 2011
This book served as an excellent counterpart to The Collaborator, Mirza Waheed's novel about the crisis in Kashmir in the late 1980s and early 1990s, as the narrator of that novel and the author of this book are of similar ages and backgrounds. Peer, a studious young man whose father is a respected government official in Srinagar, the summertime capital of Kashmir, shares his personal experiences as his village, like others throughout the region, experience great hardship and tragedy during the Indian Army crackdown against separatist militants and those who support them. In contrast to the narrator of Waheed's novel, who seeks to travel to Pakistan to join his childhood friends and become a freedom fighter, Peer, with the help of his family, moves to Delhi to finish secondary school and attend law school. While working as a newspaper journalist there, he is assigned to write stories about the growing crisis in Kashmir. He travels back to his home village, and encounters former friends and neighbors, Hindu and Muslim, there and in Srinagar and Jammu. Deeply disturbed by what he sees there, and facing discrimination as a Muslim Kashmiri in Delhi, he decides to abandon his career as a journalist and write a book about the people he knew, those Kashmiris of different backgrounds he encounters, and the troubled past and recent history of the region.
Curfewed Night succeeds as a personal and an 'on the scene' account of life in Kashmir during the crisis, and in its hopeful aftermath following the peace resolution between India and Pakistan in 2004. However, a more detailed history of the region and the origins of the recent crisis would have made this a much better book, in my opinion, although I would strongly recommend this book for anyone who is unfamiliar with Kashmir or its people.
Curfewed Night succeeds as a personal and an 'on the scene' account of life in Kashmir during the crisis, and in its hopeful aftermath following the peace resolution between India and Pakistan in 2004. However, a more detailed history of the region and the origins of the recent crisis would have made this a much better book, in my opinion, although I would strongly recommend this book for anyone who is unfamiliar with Kashmir or its people.
March 25, 2011
This falls rather flat on its own. It should have been ⅓ of a historical book about Kashmir. Ok read, but not recommended.
It reads like a long magazine article on 90s-contemporary Kashmir. It gives a lot of information about what his personal experience in Kashmir was like, but gives little information to educate the reader with. Its just a collection of anecdotes which eventually feels like my grandpa is trying to get me to listen to his stories about the old country. Also the anecdotes aren't particularly related to one another so there is no overall narrative. This is mediocre literary writing and useless historical writing. Additionally, after a while I ended up being like "Yeah, I get it, your paradisiacal homeland is all fucked up nowadays, what else is up? Is that as deep as this analysis is going to get?"
Also since it is almost entirely from one person's perspective it leaves the reader with a very incomplete picture about "life in Kashmir".
It reads like a long magazine article on 90s-contemporary Kashmir. It gives a lot of information about what his personal experience in Kashmir was like, but gives little information to educate the reader with. Its just a collection of anecdotes which eventually feels like my grandpa is trying to get me to listen to his stories about the old country. Also the anecdotes aren't particularly related to one another so there is no overall narrative. This is mediocre literary writing and useless historical writing. Additionally, after a while I ended up being like "Yeah, I get it, your paradisiacal homeland is all fucked up nowadays, what else is up? Is that as deep as this analysis is going to get?"
Also since it is almost entirely from one person's perspective it leaves the reader with a very incomplete picture about "life in Kashmir".
May 15, 2011
It is not often that we come across a book by a Palestinian in the occupied territories about his life or by a Bosnian on Srebrenica or an Iraqi about the Abu Ghraib and so on. But Bhasharat Peer's book is one such book. It is by a Kashmiri from the Indian part of Kashmir and chronicles life in the valley of Kashmir since 1990, when the insurgency began. As a young boy of 14, Peer lives through the horror of violence, brutality, murder, rape and destruction by both the Indian security forces and the militants, more of the security forces than the militants. All occupying military forces are cruel, insensitive and brutal by nature of its position as occupiers. The Indian military in Kashmir is no exception and Peer brings it out poignantly and angrily in his book.
He writes about a notorious torture prison - India's Abu Ghraib, so to speak - called Papa-2 and graphically details the cruelty and torture that was perpetrated on innocent Kashmiri Muslims there, on suspicion of being militants. What shocked me was that the Indian mainland media, in all its reporting, never ever mentioned the term 'Papa-2' even though every Kashmiri in Srinagar seems to know about it or have heard about it. Such biased and false reporting seems to be endemic of all media representing the majority. In the US, you get only sanitised reporting on Iraq and Afghanistan and not the truth.
Peer writes further on about the once sleepy, peaceful villages being ringed with landmines and old historic temples converted into military camps and bunkers. He writes about the humiliation of being searched and questioned by the Indian military constantly as people move about. I can well understand the humiliation because I once had the experience of being stripped naked and searched by the Chilean Immigration as I crossed from the Peruvian border, on suspicion of trafficking in drugs, even though there was no basis at all for it, except for my skin color.
The book is not all sadness and murder and rape though. Towards the end, the author revisits the valley of Kashmir again as a journalist and searches out his old high-school buddies, both Hindus and Muslims, and tries to bring out the composite culture of Kashmir. The writing shows Peer's love of his 'homeland' and his joy and pain on his brief return. Towarsds the end, he writes about the Indian military personnel as follows:
"I hoped that someday they could cease being part of processes that reduced individuals to suspects or military targets, shorn of all human complexity - processes that left them with bare nomenclatures such as militants, soldiers, paramilitaries. I hoped that someday they could return to their homes where they could sit on balconies and argue with their cousins about changing the TV channel. I hoped that someday the war they were fighting and the reasons for its existence would disappear like footsteps on winter snow."
Reading the book, I could not escape the depressing feeling that all this inhumanity and violence is integral to humans when in power, irrespective of whether they are Indians, Americans or even Kashmiris and Palestinians. It wasn't a comforting thought.
This book is a must-read for all mainland Indians, particularly the majority community. India hardly is ever treated to a viewpoint on kashmir by a Kashmiri. The only criticism that one can make on the book is that it is only about the valley of Kashmir and not the whole of Jammu & Kashmir, including Ladakh. But then, all the violence takes place only in the valley of Kashmir.
He writes about a notorious torture prison - India's Abu Ghraib, so to speak - called Papa-2 and graphically details the cruelty and torture that was perpetrated on innocent Kashmiri Muslims there, on suspicion of being militants. What shocked me was that the Indian mainland media, in all its reporting, never ever mentioned the term 'Papa-2' even though every Kashmiri in Srinagar seems to know about it or have heard about it. Such biased and false reporting seems to be endemic of all media representing the majority. In the US, you get only sanitised reporting on Iraq and Afghanistan and not the truth.
Peer writes further on about the once sleepy, peaceful villages being ringed with landmines and old historic temples converted into military camps and bunkers. He writes about the humiliation of being searched and questioned by the Indian military constantly as people move about. I can well understand the humiliation because I once had the experience of being stripped naked and searched by the Chilean Immigration as I crossed from the Peruvian border, on suspicion of trafficking in drugs, even though there was no basis at all for it, except for my skin color.
The book is not all sadness and murder and rape though. Towards the end, the author revisits the valley of Kashmir again as a journalist and searches out his old high-school buddies, both Hindus and Muslims, and tries to bring out the composite culture of Kashmir. The writing shows Peer's love of his 'homeland' and his joy and pain on his brief return. Towarsds the end, he writes about the Indian military personnel as follows:
"I hoped that someday they could cease being part of processes that reduced individuals to suspects or military targets, shorn of all human complexity - processes that left them with bare nomenclatures such as militants, soldiers, paramilitaries. I hoped that someday they could return to their homes where they could sit on balconies and argue with their cousins about changing the TV channel. I hoped that someday the war they were fighting and the reasons for its existence would disappear like footsteps on winter snow."
Reading the book, I could not escape the depressing feeling that all this inhumanity and violence is integral to humans when in power, irrespective of whether they are Indians, Americans or even Kashmiris and Palestinians. It wasn't a comforting thought.
This book is a must-read for all mainland Indians, particularly the majority community. India hardly is ever treated to a viewpoint on kashmir by a Kashmiri. The only criticism that one can make on the book is that it is only about the valley of Kashmir and not the whole of Jammu & Kashmir, including Ladakh. But then, all the violence takes place only in the valley of Kashmir.
April 20, 2020
Để thấy mọi cuộc chiến có thể khác nhau, khác nhau về địa điểm, nơi chốn, phe cánh... nhưng lại rất giống nhau, giống ở những mất mát, những nỗi đau và sự vô nghĩa lý.
Có đáng không?
Có-đáng-không?
Trăm ngàn lần, có đáng không?
Có đáng để đau thương, đổ máu chỉ vì một ý niệm (thứ không thật chỉ tồn tại trong tâm trí như một sự tưởng tượng)? Hy sinh thực tại cho một lý tưởng cao vời chưa chắc đã thành hiện thực trong tương lai? Thí-mạng-cùi chỉ để phục vụ tham vọng quyền lực và mang lại lợi ích cho một nhóm nhỏ con người mang thứ nội tâm đen tối, nhân danh cái nọ cái lọ và cái chai?
Cuộc chiến đáng chiến đấu nhất có chăng vẫn là cuộc chiến nội tâm của mỗi một con người?
Cảm ơn tác giả đã dũng cảm cầm bút viết về nỗi đau của một trong những nơi đẹp nhất thế giới, Kashmir - nơi mệnh danh là thiên đường hạ giới nhưng lại bị nhàu nát bởi bàn tay và lương tri con người.
Một tác phẩm đẹp nao lòng người, lối viết công tâm, kể và thuật lại những câu chuyện, mảnh đời, tích xưa... mà không nhuốm màu thiên vị hay cảm tính.
"Tôi hy vọng một ngày nào đó họ sẽ ngưng dự phần vào quá trình làm nghèo đi con người, biến họ thành những kẻ bị sai khiến hoặc mục tiêu quân sự, tước bỏ tất cả sự phức tạp thuộc về con người ở họ - những quá trình đã để lại cho họ những cái danh trần trụi như nghĩa quân, binh sĩ, lính bán quân đội. Tôi hy vọng một ngày nào đó họ có thể quay về với tổ ấm của mình, nơi họ có thể ngồi trên ban công hay cãi nhau với anh em họ của mình về việc đổi kênh tivi. Tôi hy vọng một ngày nào đó cuộc chiến họ đang can dự và những lý do khiến nó tồn tại sẽ biến mất như những dấu chân trên tuyết mùa đông."
— Basharat Peer.
Có đáng không?
Có-đáng-không?
Trăm ngàn lần, có đáng không?
Có đáng để đau thương, đổ máu chỉ vì một ý niệm (thứ không thật chỉ tồn tại trong tâm trí như một sự tưởng tượng)? Hy sinh thực tại cho một lý tưởng cao vời chưa chắc đã thành hiện thực trong tương lai? Thí-mạng-cùi chỉ để phục vụ tham vọng quyền lực và mang lại lợi ích cho một nhóm nhỏ con người mang thứ nội tâm đen tối, nhân danh cái nọ cái lọ và cái chai?
Cuộc chiến đáng chiến đấu nhất có chăng vẫn là cuộc chiến nội tâm của mỗi một con người?
Cảm ơn tác giả đã dũng cảm cầm bút viết về nỗi đau của một trong những nơi đẹp nhất thế giới, Kashmir - nơi mệnh danh là thiên đường hạ giới nhưng lại bị nhàu nát bởi bàn tay và lương tri con người.
Một tác phẩm đẹp nao lòng người, lối viết công tâm, kể và thuật lại những câu chuyện, mảnh đời, tích xưa... mà không nhuốm màu thiên vị hay cảm tính.
"Tôi hy vọng một ngày nào đó họ sẽ ngưng dự phần vào quá trình làm nghèo đi con người, biến họ thành những kẻ bị sai khiến hoặc mục tiêu quân sự, tước bỏ tất cả sự phức tạp thuộc về con người ở họ - những quá trình đã để lại cho họ những cái danh trần trụi như nghĩa quân, binh sĩ, lính bán quân đội. Tôi hy vọng một ngày nào đó họ có thể quay về với tổ ấm của mình, nơi họ có thể ngồi trên ban công hay cãi nhau với anh em họ của mình về việc đổi kênh tivi. Tôi hy vọng một ngày nào đó cuộc chiến họ đang can dự và những lý do khiến nó tồn tại sẽ biến mất như những dấu chân trên tuyết mùa đông."
— Basharat Peer.
October 20, 2016
One star for the effort and one star for all the traveling he did.
This book is full of contradictions and confusions, written with just one agenda - glorify militants and smear the Indian Army. Well it's understandable where the author is coming from but once again he has shown how easily public can be fooled by writing about a story which starts after the interval. Funny!
I would have really appreciated and saluted the author if in his book he has urged his people to take up education instead of picking up arms. That would solve the Kashmir problem not going gaga over what Indian Army did. Because had it not been for Indian Army, Kashmir would have become another Pakistan and the author would have been struggling to make a living.
This book is full of contradictions and confusions, written with just one agenda - glorify militants and smear the Indian Army. Well it's understandable where the author is coming from but once again he has shown how easily public can be fooled by writing about a story which starts after the interval. Funny!
I would have really appreciated and saluted the author if in his book he has urged his people to take up education instead of picking up arms. That would solve the Kashmir problem not going gaga over what Indian Army did. Because had it not been for Indian Army, Kashmir would have become another Pakistan and the author would have been struggling to make a living.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
June 20, 2021
Aazadi, or freedom, is what the voices of Kashmiri people cried for.
As far as my understanding goes, what has been written about the Kashmir situation was by Indians or Westerners, which makes Basharat Peer a very important voice.
Basharat Peer did not write an autobiography as much as a biography of Kashmir and the struggles its people went through. He tells the story of the land, the children, the old, the fearful, the fearless. He tells all of their stories truthfully, and even lives with them.
The murders, the massacres, the torturing, all of it is familiar to me from stories of other places, but the horror they inspire could never lessen.
This was a very enlightening read, albeit painful.
As far as my understanding goes, what has been written about the Kashmir situation was by Indians or Westerners, which makes Basharat Peer a very important voice.
Basharat Peer did not write an autobiography as much as a biography of Kashmir and the struggles its people went through. He tells the story of the land, the children, the old, the fearful, the fearless. He tells all of their stories truthfully, and even lives with them.
The murders, the massacres, the torturing, all of it is familiar to me from stories of other places, but the horror they inspire could never lessen.
This was a very enlightening read, albeit painful.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 555 reviews