P E R S P E C T I V E

kashmir
A culture that refuses to be rocked
The outrage over a fatwa against the girl band in Kashmir took the Valley by surprise, which simply saw the threesome as out of sync with its ethos
THEY won’t speak for the fatwa, they won’t speak for the girls, because neither seems acceptable to a Kashmir that is as awash in non-religious culture as in Islam. It is amidst this ambiguity that the common Kashmiri has been confronted with a ‘with us or against us’ debate set off between active supporters of the Grand Mufti based in Srinagar and the all-girl rock band that has been told by him through a fatwa not to perform.

Death of a dream
Azhar Qadri
THE three teenaged girls found themselves unwittingly amid a storm, which few dubbed a leaf out of ‘clash of civilisations’. Soon, they would disappear from public scene, switch off their phones and go into hiding. Noma Nazir — the vocalist, Aneeqa Khalid — the guitarist, and Farah Deeba — the drummer, all 16, were pitched against a formidable force comprising the conservatives and the powerful clergy.

kashmir
A culture that refuses to be rocked
The outrage over a fatwa against the girl band in Kashmir took the Valley by surprise, which simply saw the threesome as out of sync with its ethos

The all-girl band Pragaash performs at the Srinagar indoor stadium on December 26, 2012.

THEY won’t speak for the fatwa, they won’t speak for the girls, because neither seems acceptable to a Kashmir that is as awash in non-religious culture as in Islam. It is amidst this ambiguity that the common Kashmiri has been confronted with a ‘with us or against us’ debate set off between active supporters of the Grand Mufti based in Srinagar and the all-girl rock band that has been told by him through a fatwa not to perform.

When the three members of the band Pragaash (light) participated in a rock contest in Srinagar on December 26, it was just another routine cultural programme that went unnoticed.

The fatwa too, perhaps, would have gone unnoticed in Kashmir had it not received the enraged response outside. Even as the country debated the fatwa, Kashmir was hardly stirred, and the man in the street wondered what the clamour was about. The fatwa was not something that would draw their serious attention as the Grand Mufti had only a limited following, and many of his earlier fatwas had gone unnoticed.

Apart from ‘advice’ from a couple of fringe groups, there was neither overt support nor open hostility to Pragaash even after the debate heated up. Without threatening the girls — a few online posts notwithstanding — a major part of the Kashmiri society has in varying measure rejected what they see as “westernisation”, while standing by the rich history of Kashmiri women’s involvement in traditional music and performing arts.

Cultural ethos

It took nearly a month for the debate to heat up, first through youngsters in Kashmir speaking out on facebook, with nearly a thousand debating it online, of which around 10 also used abusive language. Chief Minister Omar Abdullah tweeted in support, generating a debate on the acceptability of the rock band.

The debate in Kashmir now is whether the band is un-Islamic, with reference to the rich but homogenous cultural ethos of Kashmir since generations. The lines are drawn between the supporters of the “westernised rock band” and “Islamic values” in the religio-politically charged atmosphere of the Valley, with little space for the opinion of people at large. While most people concerned refuse to go on record for fear of being targeted, those associated with the performing arts look at it differently.

Bhawani Bashir Yasir, director of the EKTA School of Drama, says, “The hype over the rock band has been exploited by the electronic media, which likes to sell such sensational news, especially when it is from Kashmir or is about some Muslim community. This has to be countered with sensible arguments. Had it not been for the media, it was no issue.”

Mohammad Amin Bhat, president of the Kashmir Theatre Federation, says all “art forms are linked with local traditions.” As the girls’ rock band belonged to the western culture, the Valley was not immediately prepared to accept it.

Kashmiri women entered Radio Kashmir, Srinagar, about 65 years ago. According to a senior broadcaster from the Valley, “There were inhibitions, but their singing was not rejected…. Their musical compositions became popular and people belonging to all communities gave them due respect.” Some of the popular artistes were Raj Begum, Naseem Akhtar, Shaheema Dev, Kailash Mehra and Deepali Wattal. Since they produced compositions based in Kashmiri culture, and not westernised, these were accepted by society, he adds.

Bhawani Bashir Yasir even suspects the rock band contest was organised with malicious intent to create such a ruckus and “thereby portray Kashmir as a fanatic state and damage our internationally acclaimed rich cultural ethos and heritage.”

The all-girl band, “which is not part of our cultural ethos and heritage, should not be seen as a larger issue but in isolation, as having violated the cultural sensitivity and sensibility of Kashmiris, which invited trouble with a mild protest, but no serious threat,” Yasir points out.

Small-town psyche

There are, however, some women who were shocked over the issue of girls specifically being prevented from performing and online threats being issued to them. Monisa Qadri, head of the Department of Mass Communication, Islamic University of Science and Technology (IUST), is among them. “Why are these kids being harassed unnecessarily? Don’t we have Kashmiri women artistes presenting songs on television and radio? They have been performing without any threat since years, and nobody thinks on religious lines when it comes to them. Let’s face it, Kashmir is a culture-oriented society (Brahmanic culture), where cultural practices are followed more than Islamic.”

Kalpana Tikku, a Kashmiri Pandit who runs Arnimaal, a non-profit organisation for children and women’s empowerment in the Valley, puts the debate in an altogether new perspective: “What the Pragaash controversy has brought out is not a religious but a ‘small town’ problem.” Across all states in India, the culture in metro cities is very different from small towns like Meerut or Lucknow. And the same is true for Srinagar. In any small town, culture is more rooted in tradition than in the metros, where the lifestyle is predominantly western. Like any other small town, Srinagar too follows traditions, and is a conservative society. But conservative does not in any way imply backward. One would find women in almost every profession, and they are very comfortable.”

Music ‘haram in Islam’

Even as the chief cleric, Grand Mufti Bashiruddin, is under criticism for issuing a fatwa against the all-girl rock band, his views find resonance in certain influential circles of Kashmiri society. The hardline separatist woman leader and chief of Dukhtaran-e-Millat (Daughters of the Nation), Asiya Andrabi, declares music and dancing is forbidden in Islam, and there is no need for threats or coercion. “Islamic teachings cannot be altered to suit a particular cultural ethos,” she says, adding, however, that there is no bar on playing martial music or the Arabic ‘duff’, or its Kashmiri equivalent ‘tumbuknari’, in the Islamic tradition.

“But that does not mean Kashmiri Muslim girls should come onto the stage and indulge in singing and dancing in front of everyone. This certainly clashes with Islamic traditions and ethos,” Asiya says. She, however, claims “there is no coercion or use of force to impose our views on others. The debate over rock band is a non-issue for Kashmiris”. Nobody threatened the three girls, she says. The abusive posts seem to have been put up by some young boys, but that does not mean the girls were threatened. The reaction and the response of the Omar government in this matter is unwarranted and exaggerated,” Asiya claims. “The best way is to persuade and counsel these girls,” she says.

Sheikh Showkat Hussain, who teaches Law at the Central University of Kashmir, holds similar views. “That music is haram (prohibited) in Islam is known to every Kashmiri Muslim, and there can be no debate on that.”

Inputs from Ehsan Fazili, Majid Jahangir, M. Aamir Khan, Bismah Malik and Ishfaq Tantry.

Young voices

One cannot thrust one’s opinion on others who want to listen to or play music. In Kashmir, people form music bands and organise concerts, but there are also people like me who do not listen to music. But we live in harmony. Suppressing views or imposing your opinion is not allowed in Islam.

Inam-ul-Haq, a phd student in islamic studies at kashmir university.

Cultural activities in our school are mostly traditional — like a fashion show last year that presented traditional dresses of Kashmir. A popular song, “Walew badlaw panun taqdeer, karaw taamer now Kashmir” played in the background. The show was appreciated by teachers, parents and youngsters alike. May be the girls were targeted because they did their shows independently.

Aneesa Wani, a class x student and member of her school choreography and music group

Death of a dream
Azhar Qadri

From left: Vocalist Noma Nazir, guitarist Aneeqa Khalid, and drummer Farah Deeba.

THE three teenaged girls found themselves unwittingly amid a storm, which few dubbed a leaf out of ‘clash of civilisations’. Soon, they would disappear from public scene, switch off their phones and go into hiding.

Noma Nazir — the vocalist, Aneeqa Khalid — the guitarist, and Farah Deeba — the drummer, all 16, were pitched against a formidable force comprising the conservatives and the powerful clergy.

The first chapter began when they walked inside the Indoor Stadium, a rundown structure, to compete against bands comprising boys. It was a walk that would set the tone for a rigorous discourse. Kashmir has been a conservative society, where no girl is allowed to move out of home after dusk.

In a societal setup where singing is not considered a worthy lifestyle, these girls opted for its most noisy genre, the rock. They sang the poetry of Punjabi Sufi poet Bulleh Shah, who had inspired several chartbuster songs of modern times.

At the start of their performance, the girls sounded confident. Noma introduced the band from the stage, Aneeqa strummed the guitar and Farah settled her grip on the drums. Bulleh’s “Bandiya Ho” won them the third spot.

The fatwa

They had to deal with an online hate buzz that destroyed their morale and by January, they had had enough. They decided to end their musical journey.

Chief Minister Omar Abdullah stepped in the next day, tweeting his solidarity with the girls and certifying their “right to choose to sing”. The support of the state backfired. Grand Mufti, who is recognised by the state government, issued a fatwa, ending any chance of their comeback. The fatwa also drowned the voices of support for the band. The hardline separatist group, though distancing itself from the fatwa, said “no noble family” would allow their girls to become dancers.

Hate mail

When Farah spoke on day one of the controversy, the row was yet to snowball into a massive debate. Her mother answered the phone. When the hate buzz was launched, Farah had wept through the night. Farah had a child-like tone, though she measured her words carefully and with a sense of maturity. She was terse in her reply: “Bus khatam ho gaya (it just ended)”, she said.

Aneeqa was reluctant to accept Farah’s decision to quit. She said they had only gone “underground” and the band would rock again. Two days after the fatwa, it was her blurred face on television that announced the end of the band.

Swan song

By the time statements denouncing music and singers began to diminish from mailboxes of news offices, the girls had gone underground. When Union Health Minister Ghulam Nabi Azad’s wife Shamima Azad, an established Kashmiri singer, was asked to comment, she hung up.

No place for fun

Cinema halls have been closed in Kashmir since the eruption of militancy, and during the earlier years of the violence the youth had hardly any access to television. Haroon Sheikh (38), a school teacher, recalls, “We were not allowed by our parents to move out of home as they feared for our safety. Because the militants, who were up against the security forces, were the same age group as us, we were under the scanner. There was no mode of entertainment as we had to return home before dusk.”

The youth found little space for stress busting till the arrival of the information technology boom. It helped the youth connect to the world. Dr Arshid Hussian, a psychiatrist, says: “As a society, our space for socialisation has diminished. We do not hang out, go to neighbours or chat with friends. The youth are filling this gap in the virtual world.” Before the turmoil, cinema was not the only mode of entertainment. People used to play sports, meet friends, visit gardens, and even debate issues. The band has become an issue only as a result of the activity in the virtual world.”