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Dardpur Brutally frank and moving, Dardpur is a tour de force undertaken by Kshama Kaul. Many a people have attempted to portray the pain and suffering of the people who have been caught in the whirlpool of terrorism and other related forces. But none before the author has taken the reader along the road that traces the communal history of Kashmir and the gradual erosion, decimation and appropriation of the culture of Kashmiri Pandits. For the uninitiated the darkness that has descended upon the Kashmiri Pandits might have its genesis in the autumn of the first year of independence, when tribals from Pakistan invaded the valley, but the truth is that it has been a gradual process which began not only with the Islamisation of the inhabitants but of the icons and the places of worship, too. Thus, for the protagonist of the novel, Sudha, the myth regarding the conversion of Lalded, the transformation of the Parvati temple to a Muslim place of reverence and the subtle changes taking place continuously among the majority inhabitants in the valley, is a painful experience aimed at obliterating the existence of a people, rich both in history and culture — and aware and proud of the richness. Sudha keeps travelling between the collective consciousness of her ancestors and the present which is as chequered as the past. In doing so she delineates on communal relationships but more poignantly brings out the agony and anguish that the migrants suffer. The fact that for many, exile has turned out to be a blessing in the form of new opportunities is little compensation for the loss of the home and hearth. Often, the isolation and alienation of the characters is disturbing but the fact that there are characters like Noora, Ghulam Nabi Pandit, Imtiaz etc proves that humanity has not altogether diminished, though people like them might be too weak to stop the wheels of the inevitable change. The author is at her forceful best when exploring the plight of the women. Honest depiction of the characters, including that of Sumona, the constitutionally correct symbol of secularism, or, Huchkukil — the scheming and avaricious neighbour of the Bhats, is her hallmark. Not the least, her tracing of the present status of women to the banishment of Parvati by Shiva on consistently losing the game of dice, is remarkable. However, a dispassionate reader might feel that her comments upon the politics of the day somehow dilute the intensity and passion that the characters and the narration command. |