The Weight of Words

A single word or an inadvertant disclosure can have serious consequences in Kashmir

- Karan Mujoo

A few years ago, I was in Kashmir researching a story. I was staying at Ahdoos on Residency Road. Every evening, I would walk the length of the strip—from the vintage Mahatta and Co photo studio to the Tyndale Biscoe School. On one of these walks I decided to grab a bite at a local bakery. As I entered the establishment a man in formal clothes exited it. He had, around him, the unmistakable air of an Indian civil servant. The air of a man whose every need was taken care of by a retinue of eager attendants. A man who was aware of the power he wielded and the responsibility put forth on his shoulders by the state. A policeman opened the car door for him. He got in and was whisked away, probably to a dusty room from where he controlled an area the size of a small European nation. 

Inside the bakery I asked for a chicken patty. It was handed to me on a paper plate with a ketchup sachet. I stood in the bakery making small talk with the owner’s son—a young overweight man in his twenties. During our conversation, I casually asked him who the gentleman exiting the bakery was. 

The boy completely blanked me. He moved to another part of the store and pretended to look for something that clearly did not exist. I was puzzled by his evasion. On my walk back I wondered, why had the boy acted that way? 

The next evening, as I walked past the bakery, I saw the same car parked outside. It dawned on me that what had seemed like an innocuous question could have been interpreted as an attempt to garner information. Kashmiris are acutely aware of such nuances. The boy could have simply said, “Oh! That guy? He’s the magistrate.” But instead of revealing the civil servant’s identity, the boy had, quite deliberately, chosen silence.

Silence is a decision people in Kashmir make every day. A wrong word, a slip of the tongue, an inadvertent disclosure of information can have serious consequences.