BetweenTheLines

Sameer Arshad Khatlani Follow  on Facebook I n the second year of my decade-long stint with the Times of India, I got what I then thought was my first big break — covering the 2008 Jammu and Kashmir assembly elections. My mentor late Ranjan Roy agreed to depute me for the coverage at the request of Rashmee Roshan Lall, who was then the paper's weekend editor. I was at the top of my game thanks to Ranjan and Rashmee's support and encouragement at the beginning of the best phase of my professional life. I could not wait and hopped on to a bus as soon as I arrived in Srinagar to Pattan near Srinagar to meet Member Of Parliament Abdul Rashid Shaheen, who was contesting the elections on a National Conference (NC) ticket. Shaheen, who had seen better days in politics, appeared downcast. He was in his living room addressing half-a-dozen supporters when I walked in. Shaheen spoke about NC's heyday when iconic Sheikh Abdullah, the NC founder, held sway over the Kashmiris. Also Read

Sameer Arshad Khatlani Follow  on Facebook O n one of his trips to Srinagar, the capital of the Indian side of Kashmir, veteran BBC journalist Sir Mark Tully heard an unusual, rhythmically rising and falling chanting from a white marble mosque. The chanting at sunrise from the revered mosque on the banks of the Dal Lake in Hazratbal, which houses a relic of the Prophet Muhammad, he wrote, sounded 'not unlike Hindu bhajans'. Tully was not entirely off the mark. The chanting was that of Aurad-ul-Fatiha, an anthology of Quranic verses and the Prophet’s sayings  14th-century saint Mir Syed Ali Hamdani complied for converts to Islam to chant in mosques similar to how it was done in temples. ALSO READ: Once Scorned, How Peshawaris From 'Central Asia's Piccadilly' Ruled Bollywood The faithful have been chanting the anthology in mosques since then in a major departure from the otherwise Muslim practice of silent worship. Hamdani, who popularised Islam among the masses in Ka

Sameer Arshad Khatlani Follow  on Facebook I  am no stranger to lockdowns. They were the norm while I was growing up in Kashmir. I was seven when I experienced the first set of sweeping restrictions put on our movement. The curbs were imposed in January 1990 to stem further protests after scores protesting against overnight house-to-house searches were hemmed in and shot dead on a bridge over the Jhelum. It was the first of the many massacres that year, which fuelled the ongoing insurrection. We were confined to our houses in its aftermath for three weeks. Shoot-at-sight orders were in place and our neighbourhoods were suddenly swarmed by men in khaki from all over India. A cousin had a narrow escape when he was fired upon for stepping out during the lockdown. No one dared to venture out thereafter to even get essentials. We fell back on our winter stocks and were forced to survive for the longest time in recent memory on lentils. ALSO READ: Farooq Abdullah, A Man For All Seasons We th

Sameer Arshad Khatlani Follow  on Facebook A rare joint statement by the Indian and Pakistani directors general of military operations, on February 25, announcing that the two countries have agreed to strictly observe the ceasefire along the Line of Control (LoC) in Jammu and Kashmir (J&K) triggered much speculation over what brought about the turnaround. Moeed Yusuf, special assistant on national security to Pakistani Prime Minister Imran Khan on national security, called the announcement a “victory of diplomacy” and added that “more avenues” will open in the future, amid reports that back-channel meetings at neutral locations led to the pact. ALSO READ: Sarkari Mussalmans And The Art of Keeping Heads Deeply Buried In The Sand Analysts linked the reiteration of the observance of the truce along the de facto border to the protracted stand-off between the Indian and Chinese troops in Ladakh and New Delhi’s attempts to avoid a two-front conflict with two allied adversaries. Many won

Kashmir’s last independent ruler, Yousaf Shah Chak, fell in love at first sight with her while he was on a hunting trip and heard Habba Khatun singing under a Chinar tree.  livehistoryindia.com Sameer Arshad Khatlani H abba Khatun’s journey from an ordinary peasant woman to Kashmir’s preeminent cultural icon began with a rebellion in the 16th century. She walked out of an unhappy marriage, divorced her husband, and began wandering, singing songs of mystic love and melancholy from village to village. The power of her voice was so mesmerising that Kashmir’s last independent ruler, Yousaf Shah Chak, fell in love at first sight with her while he was on a hunting trip and heard Habba Khatun singing under a Chinar tree. The commoner Zoon, as she was earlier called, was named Habba Khatun (loved woman) as she became Chak’s queen. But her newfound love was short-lived. Mughal Emperor Akbar soon invaded Kashmir and sent Chak into exile. The Queen plunged into grief again and fell b