<p>In recent times, a new genre of writing has appeared on the literary horizon — writing in English on Kashmir by Kashmiris. If a while ago it was Basharat Peer’s Curfewed Nights that captivated the reader, then now it is the turn of Mirza Waheed. The Collaborator is a work of fiction, but like all good (and disturbing) fiction, it is rooted in reality. Thus, for all those familiar with the terrain that is Kashmir, this book brings afresh the trauma and tragedy of that firdaus on earth.<br /><br />This is a subject that has been written about in length by journalists, researchers and activists. Yet, Waheed deftly weaves a tapestry of quiet and lingering sadness, so graphic that they still engage the reader, yes, even when events are a bit stretched. The reader becomes part of the village of Nowgam — where the protagonist and his friends live and grow up. They sing Mohammed Rafi songs, tell tales of bravado to each other, go to school together and dream of the future. It is a village where a backward and hitherto nomadic community settles down in, leaving behind their old way of life. It also happens to be a village on the Line of Control between India and Pakistan. When insurgency begins in Kashmir, slowly but surely the war for azaadi enters Nowgam.<br /><br />The protagonist is the village sarpanch’s son; the sarpanch is duty-bound to swear his allegiance to India and to eschew war. The protagonist’s friends however disappear one by one across the border, leaving him torn between his loyalty to his parents and his desire to be considered as ‘one of us’ by his friends.<br /><br />As the youth disappear in quick succession, the Indian army enters the village. Soon, the villagers decide to flee for safety to other towns. Left behind is the sarpanch’s family. The valley where the village youth played becomes the dumping ground for the corpses of militants slain by the army. And soon the sarpanch’s son becomes the collaborator, counting the corpses and scavenging them for valuable items for the army.<br /><br />Two narratives run parallel to each other — in one the protagonist is the happy village boy; in the other, he is the collaborator.<br /><br />The novel — Waheed’s debut novel — is about loss — the loss of a way of life, of innocence and beauty, and of all things of grace and of the terrible, terrible loss — futilely — of lives just beginning to bloom. It is the tragic tale of those who had no loyalty or even thoughts about either India or Pakistan, but just wanted to get on with their daily lives. The loyalty, if any, was to the village and, to a lesser measure, to Islam, but which slowly and ominously began dictating a certain loyalty to Pakistan.<br /><br />It is about the despoiled youth for whom azaadi was attractive simply for its headiness; the swagger of the militants gave the theme respectability and allured the youth to an ideology, which, to borrow Rushdie’s famous phrase, had not been sufficiently imagined. It is also meant to be about the Indian army, but the characters portrayed, primarily that of Captain Kadian, fall flat and this is where the story becomes slightly Manichean in character.<br /><br />The Collaborator is a work of fiction, and yes, it has been unfair to India. And no, it is not about politics, even though politics plays a crucial role in the plot; it’s not about India-Pakistan, in fact, it is not even about Kashmir as the author would have us believe; and no, it definitely does not give an accurate picture of the entire saga of Kashmir and its quest for azaadi. If one is looking to understand the complexities of the Kashmir conundrum, then this book definitely does not provide the answer. <br /><br />But, Waheed does provide the reader a slice of the turmoil and the jahannum that the conflict resulted in for some. Vividly descriptive, it brings alive the trauma of a cordon and search operation; the cunning with which religiosity is casually introduced in the way of life of a people not given to religion; the ease with which a simple people are manipulated and notions of separatism, false bravado and heroism induced; and the definite cruelty of counter-insurgency.<br /><br />This is a book that hurts, it hurts to know of the desolation that many such villages in Kashmir must have been brought to, of young lives snuffed out because of some fuzzy notion of azaadi, which remains fuzzy till today in the valley, and yes, it hurts (even as fiction) that so many allegations can be hurled at a nation.<br /><br />However, it does, among other things, turn the spotlight in a way on the Gujjars — a community living on the periphery in the Kashmir valley — who are but almost invisible in the entire discourse on Kashmir, whether in Srinagar or in Delhi. And finally, like Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca, Mirza Waheed’s collaborator too remains nameless. Evocatively written, The Collaborator is a book difficult to put down till one has read through its very last line.<br /><br /></p>.<p><em>The collaborator<br />Mirza Waheed<br />Penguin <br />2011, pp 305<br />Rs 499</em></p>
<p>In recent times, a new genre of writing has appeared on the literary horizon — writing in English on Kashmir by Kashmiris. If a while ago it was Basharat Peer’s Curfewed Nights that captivated the reader, then now it is the turn of Mirza Waheed. The Collaborator is a work of fiction, but like all good (and disturbing) fiction, it is rooted in reality. Thus, for all those familiar with the terrain that is Kashmir, this book brings afresh the trauma and tragedy of that firdaus on earth.<br /><br />This is a subject that has been written about in length by journalists, researchers and activists. Yet, Waheed deftly weaves a tapestry of quiet and lingering sadness, so graphic that they still engage the reader, yes, even when events are a bit stretched. The reader becomes part of the village of Nowgam — where the protagonist and his friends live and grow up. They sing Mohammed Rafi songs, tell tales of bravado to each other, go to school together and dream of the future. It is a village where a backward and hitherto nomadic community settles down in, leaving behind their old way of life. It also happens to be a village on the Line of Control between India and Pakistan. When insurgency begins in Kashmir, slowly but surely the war for azaadi enters Nowgam.<br /><br />The protagonist is the village sarpanch’s son; the sarpanch is duty-bound to swear his allegiance to India and to eschew war. The protagonist’s friends however disappear one by one across the border, leaving him torn between his loyalty to his parents and his desire to be considered as ‘one of us’ by his friends.<br /><br />As the youth disappear in quick succession, the Indian army enters the village. Soon, the villagers decide to flee for safety to other towns. Left behind is the sarpanch’s family. The valley where the village youth played becomes the dumping ground for the corpses of militants slain by the army. And soon the sarpanch’s son becomes the collaborator, counting the corpses and scavenging them for valuable items for the army.<br /><br />Two narratives run parallel to each other — in one the protagonist is the happy village boy; in the other, he is the collaborator.<br /><br />The novel — Waheed’s debut novel — is about loss — the loss of a way of life, of innocence and beauty, and of all things of grace and of the terrible, terrible loss — futilely — of lives just beginning to bloom. It is the tragic tale of those who had no loyalty or even thoughts about either India or Pakistan, but just wanted to get on with their daily lives. The loyalty, if any, was to the village and, to a lesser measure, to Islam, but which slowly and ominously began dictating a certain loyalty to Pakistan.<br /><br />It is about the despoiled youth for whom azaadi was attractive simply for its headiness; the swagger of the militants gave the theme respectability and allured the youth to an ideology, which, to borrow Rushdie’s famous phrase, had not been sufficiently imagined. It is also meant to be about the Indian army, but the characters portrayed, primarily that of Captain Kadian, fall flat and this is where the story becomes slightly Manichean in character.<br /><br />The Collaborator is a work of fiction, and yes, it has been unfair to India. And no, it is not about politics, even though politics plays a crucial role in the plot; it’s not about India-Pakistan, in fact, it is not even about Kashmir as the author would have us believe; and no, it definitely does not give an accurate picture of the entire saga of Kashmir and its quest for azaadi. If one is looking to understand the complexities of the Kashmir conundrum, then this book definitely does not provide the answer. <br /><br />But, Waheed does provide the reader a slice of the turmoil and the jahannum that the conflict resulted in for some. Vividly descriptive, it brings alive the trauma of a cordon and search operation; the cunning with which religiosity is casually introduced in the way of life of a people not given to religion; the ease with which a simple people are manipulated and notions of separatism, false bravado and heroism induced; and the definite cruelty of counter-insurgency.<br /><br />This is a book that hurts, it hurts to know of the desolation that many such villages in Kashmir must have been brought to, of young lives snuffed out because of some fuzzy notion of azaadi, which remains fuzzy till today in the valley, and yes, it hurts (even as fiction) that so many allegations can be hurled at a nation.<br /><br />However, it does, among other things, turn the spotlight in a way on the Gujjars — a community living on the periphery in the Kashmir valley — who are but almost invisible in the entire discourse on Kashmir, whether in Srinagar or in Delhi. And finally, like Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca, Mirza Waheed’s collaborator too remains nameless. Evocatively written, The Collaborator is a book difficult to put down till one has read through its very last line.<br /><br /></p>.<p><em>The collaborator<br />Mirza Waheed<br />Penguin <br />2011, pp 305<br />Rs 499</em></p>
