I cannot see you today

Over the last ten years, starting in 2014, I have visited Kashmir many times, documenting it with photographic projects, articles, and essays. My interest in the local culture soon became intertwined with that of recent history. I met and developed relationships with professors, journalists, activists, artisans, and religious figures, each of whom offered me a different perspective on the relationship between Kashmir, India, and Pakistan, and on the impact of events in the second half of the 20th century on the region’s socio-political structure.

Since 1949, northwest Kashmir has been divided between India and Pakistan. The referendum to decide whether Kashmir should join India or Pakistan has never taken place. Most of the region is under Indian administration, and in the last seventy years Pakistan and India have fought three wars—1965, 1971, and 1999. The accounts of the people I met often focused on the period of bloody internal conflict that began with the massacre of pro-independence demonstrators on the Gawkadal Bridge in January 1990. They told me of friends who crossed the border into Pakistan to reach training camps and learn to fight. Of massacres by Kashmiri militias against pro-India Muslims and Kashmiris of Hindu and Pandit faith. Of women and girls abused by paramilitaries. Of people tortured by the army. Of thousands of men arrested and then disappeared. From the terrorist attack on the Indian Parliament in 2001, to the demonstrations in 2010 in which more than a hundred protesters were killed, to the equally violent protests in 2016 that I witnessed.

In August 2019, the Indian government revoked the special autonomous status granted to Jammu and Kashmir under Article 370 of the Constitution. Thousands of military personnel were deployed to prevent possible uprisings, and several prominent Kashmiri politicians, including the former Chief Minister, were taken into custody. In addition to the repeal of several historic laws—such as the one prohibiting the sale of land to non-Kashmiris—hundreds of people were arrested. Communication lines, including fixed and mobile internet networks, were cut off for many months.

My last visit to the valley was in 2017. In December 2023, I decided to return. I simply wanted to meet my interlocutors, some of whom had become friends, and learn about their personal, professional, and family situations. I made a few appointments from Europe via WhatsApp. At first, the people I contacted were delighted to see me again. Later, as the date of my departure approached, some began to cancel. Others disappeared. During a video call with S., a journalist, I realised that even a simple friendly meeting could be risky.
“Here, people are arrested for liking an autonomist post on Facebook. You can’t trust anyone anymore. You’d better leave it alone,” he told me.

Not only has the control of information become pervasive, but the government is actively trying to silence any voice of popular dissent. Any political expression that goes against the central government’s agenda is suppressed.

While I was in Srinagar, I met no one. I walked around the city. I visited landmarks of Kashmiri resistance: buildings, streets, and squares whose political, cultural, and spiritual significance had been explained to me. I revisited places of past encounters where a friend once shared his family history. I stopped outside the houses of people I could no longer meet, their boats moored on Lake Dal.

Click on the images below to see them in full screen.