The Stolen Childhoods of Kashmir in Pencil & Crayon
By Soutik Biswas, BBC News, Srinagar, 29 May 2017. Illustrations gathered from children in Indian-administered Kashmir. These are pictures of loss of childhood and
innocence. They speak about a violent world outside shuttered homes. They
reveal the terrors of the present and the fears for the future.
innocence. They speak about a violent world outside shuttered homes. They
reveal the terrors of the present and the fears for the future.
The colours are vivid. Red dominates, in
blood and fire. Black is an ascendant colour, clouding the skies and scorching
the earth. It’s not dark yet, but it’s getting there.
blood and fire. Black is an ascendant colour, clouding the skies and scorching
the earth. It’s not dark yet, but it’s getting there.
The artwork is by schoolchildren in
Indian-administered Kashmir, home to one of the world’s most protracted conflicts.
These days, they mostly depict childhoods ruined by the violence of adults.
Indian-administered Kashmir, home to one of the world’s most protracted conflicts.
These days, they mostly depict childhoods ruined by the violence of adults.
The meadows, streams, orchards and mountains
that make their home “heaven on earth”, as a Mughal emperor once
exulted, is missing in much of their work. Stone-throwing protesters,
gun-toting troops, burning schools, rubble-littered streets, gunfights and
killings are some of the anxious, recurring themes on the canvas.
that make their home “heaven on earth”, as a Mughal emperor once
exulted, is missing in much of their work. Stone-throwing protesters,
gun-toting troops, burning schools, rubble-littered streets, gunfights and
killings are some of the anxious, recurring themes on the canvas.
Last summer was one of the bloodiest in the
region for years. Following the killing of influential militant Burhan Wani by Indian forces in July, more
than 100 civilians died in clashes with security forces during a
four-month-long lockdown in the Muslim dominated-valley.
region for years. Following the killing of influential militant Burhan Wani by Indian forces in July, more
than 100 civilians died in clashes with security forces during a
four-month-long lockdown in the Muslim dominated-valley.
Security forces fired metal pellets from
shotguns into protesting crowds, leaving many blinded. More than 1,200 children below the age of 15 were
among some 9,000 people injured in the protests. Most of them, according to
reports, were “young, [and] were either blinded completely or lost their
vision in one eye”.
shotguns into protesting crowds, leaving many blinded. More than 1,200 children below the age of 15 were
among some 9,000 people injured in the protests. Most of them, according to
reports, were “young, [and] were either blinded completely or lost their
vision in one eye”.
As violence spread on the street, schools
shut. Children stayed indoors for months, drowning in the noise of TV news. At
other times, they read and drew. They missed their friends and cricket games.
Teachers gave lessons at home, and parents invigilated during home exams. One
school even held an exam in a small indoor stadium.
shut. Children stayed indoors for months, drowning in the noise of TV news. At
other times, they read and drew. They missed their friends and cricket games.
Teachers gave lessons at home, and parents invigilated during home exams. One
school even held an exam in a small indoor stadium.
When the schools reopened in the winter,
teachers found many of the students irate, nervous and uncertain. They were
children of government workers, businessmen, doctors, engineers, bankers and
farmers.
teachers found many of the students irate, nervous and uncertain. They were
children of government workers, businessmen, doctors, engineers, bankers and
farmers.
They came looking “pale, like
zombies”, the principal of a leading school told me.
zombies”, the principal of a leading school told me.
They cried and hugged each other. Having
spent months cooped up in their homes in near-captivity, they asked their
teachers why they had closed the school. Some of them behaved strangely. They
screamed without any reason, banged the tables and broke furniture. Counsellors
were called in to calm them down.
spent months cooped up in their homes in near-captivity, they asked their
teachers why they had closed the school. Some of them behaved strangely. They
screamed without any reason, banged the tables and broke furniture. Counsellors
were called in to calm them down.
“There was anger, a lot of
anger,” the principal said.
anger,” the principal said.
Then, some 300 of them went to a school
hall and sat down with paper and pastels. And they drew furiously.
hall and sat down with paper and pastels. And they drew furiously.
“That’s all they did on the first day.
They drew what they wanted. They didn’t utter a word. It was all very
cathartic.”
They drew what they wanted. They didn’t utter a word. It was all very
cathartic.”
‘I cannot see the world again’
The children drew mostly in pastel and
pencil. Many wrote over their pictures, using speech bubbles, headlines and sentences.
pencil. Many wrote over their pictures, using speech bubbles, headlines and sentences.
In many of their pictures, the valley is on
fire, and streets are littered with the black detritus of rioting against an
incongruent backdrop of a blazing sun and birds in the skies.
fire, and streets are littered with the black detritus of rioting against an
incongruent backdrop of a blazing sun and birds in the skies.
Then there are young faces scarred and eyes
blinded by pellets. It is a recurring, heart-wrenching theme.
blinded by pellets. It is a recurring, heart-wrenching theme.
“I cannot see the world again and
cannot see my friends again. I am blind,” says the subject of one such
haunting image.
cannot see my friends again. I am blind,” says the subject of one such
haunting image.
Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies,
as a poet wrote, but in Kashmir, children have lived in the shadow of death for
as long as one can remember. There are bodies lying on the street, and there
are people on fire in the paintings.
as a poet wrote, but in Kashmir, children have lived in the shadow of death for
as long as one can remember. There are bodies lying on the street, and there
are people on fire in the paintings.
“These are the mountains of Kashmir.
And here’s a school for kids. On the left are army men and opposite them are
stone-throwing protesters who are demanding freedom,” said a schoolboy in
Anantnag, explaining his drawing.
And here’s a school for kids. On the left are army men and opposite them are
stone-throwing protesters who are demanding freedom,” said a schoolboy in
Anantnag, explaining his drawing.
“When protesters throw stones at the
army, the army opens fire at them. In the crossfire, a school kid dies and his
friend is left alone.”
army, the army opens fire at them. In the crossfire, a school kid dies and his
friend is left alone.”
The other recurring theme – and nightmare –
is the burning down of schools. There’s a powerful picture of children trapped
in a school on fire, screaming, “help us, help us. Save our school, save
us, save our future”.
is the burning down of schools. There’s a powerful picture of children trapped
in a school on fire, screaming, “help us, help us. Save our school, save
us, save our future”.
Others are angrier and more political.
There are drawings with pro-freedom
graffiti, and signposts which say Save our Kashmir in pastels. Others extol
Burhan Wani, and resonate with anti-India slogans. There are maps of Kashmir
oozing red.
graffiti, and signposts which say Save our Kashmir in pastels. Others extol
Burhan Wani, and resonate with anti-India slogans. There are maps of Kashmir
oozing red.
In another village in southern Kashmir, a
prominent artist found children drawing Indian flags fluttering on top of their
houses.
prominent artist found children drawing Indian flags fluttering on top of their
houses.
Rival neighbours
A scowling face of a man split into two is
a metaphor for the bitter and festering rivalry between India and Pakistan, and
the tragedy of a land sandwiched between the rival neighbours.
a metaphor for the bitter and festering rivalry between India and Pakistan, and
the tragedy of a land sandwiched between the rival neighbours.
There’s a heart-breaking pencil drawing of
a mother waiting for her son. The children also vent their frustration over the
shutdown of internet and mobile phone services during
the protests.
a mother waiting for her son. The children also vent their frustration over the
shutdown of internet and mobile phone services during
the protests.
Five years ago, Australian art therapist
Dena Lawrence conducted some art lessons with young people in the valley. She
found black was the predominant colour in their paintings, and most of them
reflected “anger, rage and depression”.
Dena Lawrence conducted some art lessons with young people in the valley. She
found black was the predominant colour in their paintings, and most of them
reflected “anger, rage and depression”.
Kashmiri artist Masood Hussain, who has
been judging art competitions for children aged four to 16 for the past four
decades, says their subjects have changed.
been judging art competitions for children aged four to 16 for the past four
decades, says their subjects have changed.
“They have gone from the serene to the
violent,” he tells me. “They draw red skies, red mountains, lakes,
flowers and houses on fire. They draw guns and tanks, fire-fights and people
dying on the street.”
violent,” he tells me. “They draw red skies, red mountains, lakes,
flowers and houses on fire. They draw guns and tanks, fire-fights and people
dying on the street.”
Arshad Husain, a Srinagar-based
psychiatrist, says the artwork of the children in the valley betrays their
collective trauma.
psychiatrist, says the artwork of the children in the valley betrays their
collective trauma.
“We think children are too young to
understand. That’s not true. They absorb and assimilate everything around them.
They express it in their own way,” he says.
understand. That’s not true. They absorb and assimilate everything around them.
They express it in their own way,” he says.
“Mind you, most of this artwork is
coming from children who stayed at home. Imagine the children on the streets
who are closer to the violence.”
coming from children who stayed at home. Imagine the children on the streets
who are closer to the violence.”
It is all reminiscent of children’s art inspired by 9/11: weeping
children, the twin towers on fire and being yanked off the ground by Osama Bin
Laden against a blood-red skyline, a scarred girl wearing an I Love New York
T-shirt.
children, the twin towers on fire and being yanked off the ground by Osama Bin
Laden against a blood-red skyline, a scarred girl wearing an I Love New York
T-shirt.
In Kashmir, where fairy tales quickly turn
into nightmares, hope is not extinguished yet.
into nightmares, hope is not extinguished yet.
Let our future be bright, make us educated,
don’t make this crisis a reason for darkness, pleads a girl in a drawing. It’s
never too late.
don’t make this crisis a reason for darkness, pleads a girl in a drawing. It’s
never too late.
