Restrictions in Srinagar
File image of security personnel standing guard in Srinagar (representational image) | PTI
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Passengers can switch on their mobile phones now,” announced the SpiceJet air hostess in a monotonous tone as my flight landed in Srinagar last week. The statement was met with spontaneous laughter in an otherwise eerily quiet early morning flight from Mumbai. Other than the weariness of a 5 am flight, the daunting prospect of what lay ahead weighed in on all passengers on board and the announcement came as comic relief. The air hostess couldn’t quite understand what had evoked the laughter and went on to repeat the same in Hindi.

It had been five days since the unprecedented communication lockdown in Jammu and Kashmir following the abrogation of Article 370 by the Narendra Modi government. I had just landed in my hometown after being unable to contact my 74-year-old mother, who lives alone in Srinagar.

Also read: In photos: Jammu & Kashmir marks first Independence Day as Union Territory

21st-century lockdown

I took a taxi from the airport to our house. Since it was 8 am, I couldn’t assess the impact of the restrictions enforced. Most shops were shut and there was very little traffic. All I could see were some vegetable sellers and a few early morning walkers. But my worry increased as I got closer to home. The gate to the house was locked from inside, and I banged on the green metal door till I heard my mother’s voice asking who it was. It was a flood of relief hearing her voice. She opened the gate and as I hugged her, she said, “I knew you would come to get me out of here.”

Enough has been written and said about the constitutionality of the move to abrogate Article 370. Enough has been argued on who has the rights to own the land and who doesn’t. Enough has been debated on how Kashmiris will react to the Centre’s move. But not enough has been written or said about the complete communication shutdown that has had a direct impact on citizens. No phones, no mobile network, no internet, limited access to television. In 21st century India, how do you communicate with zero access to technology? Imagine ‘no network’ bars on your phone, no WhatsApp notification, no access to national or international news, no Facebook, Twitter, Instagram or YouTube. Just a deathly silence for lakhs living in the Union Territory of Jammu and Kashmir.

An enforced, unprecedented communication freeze.

Also read: NewsX, India Today, India TV took aerial survey of Kashmir and found everything ‘peaceful’

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Finding connections

The first person I met is a dear friend whose parents live in Nowhatta – one of the most volatile areas of downtown Srinagar. Despite living barely 10 kilometres away, she had no way of knowing how her father was doing. Her mother had gone for Hajj and her father was home alone. She tried to get past the barricades, but was stopped. Finally, she decided to write him a letter. Kashmiris eat a special kind of bread called ‘Girda’ every morning for breakfast, which is usually bought from the local baker. She knew her father has a favourite baker in a nearby locality. She left the letter with the baker, hoping her father doesn’t give up on his ritual. Three days later, the baker walked all the way to her house and handed her a reply from her father. She says it is the first letter he has ever written to her.

I am part of a WhatsApp group with my old classmates from Srinagar. Most of them now live outside J&K and are worried about their parents back home. For most of them, like for me, it’s a few phone calls a day to your parents or a video call to know of their well-being. Just ordinary, routine stuff. When they heard I was going to Kashmir to ‘extract’ my mother out of the Valley, they asked if I could check on their loved ones too.

I didn’t make promises since I had no idea what the situation was like on the ground. But as luck would have it, the Modi government had eased restrictions ahead of Eid and I was able to drive around large parts of the city. The volatile downtown localities remained off limits. I managed to reach a few of these aunties and uncles. I took their photographs at first. But then decided that the best thing would be to record their videos and share it with their daughters once I got network. Imagine old parents trying to keep a brave face, looking into the camera and uttering words of reassurance for their children. “Main theek hoon beta, aap fikar mat karo (I am fine. Please don’t worry my child),” was their simple yet hard-hitting message. The last thing any parent wants is for their children to worry. When I got back, I shared these with their daughters. Most of them broke down.

Also read: Are they militants? Relatives of politicians ask outside Kashmir detention centre

Local Samaritans

Even as I write this article, a WhatsApp group has been formed by the residents of the Rawalpora locality in Srinagar. One of many, from what I hear. The group called Rawalpora Curfew Updates was formed after a police officer, who had access to a working mobile phone, went from house to house, and got families to speak to their loved ones. The name of this police officer has been kept under wraps and I think that’s best. The group already has 100-plus members from all over the world, constantly messaging and updating others on the situation the minute they get to speak to their families. One of my friends is in this group. Her mother lives in Rawalpora and despite her best efforts she hasn’t been able to speak to her. My friend is flying in today from London to take her mother back with her.

In this unprecedented situation that the people of Jammu and Kashmir find themselves in, there are innumerable unsung heroes who have helped in connecting families not just outside but within. Never before have neighbourhoods been so isolated and cut off from each other.

The sad reality is that on our 73rd Independence Day, 11 days after the abrogation of Article 370, a population of 70 lakh-plus only has a few hundred government-operated phones to make that crucial call home. For everyone else calling the Valley – Iss route ki sabhi line-ayn bandh hain (all lines to this route have been shut).

The author is a Mumbai-based freelance journalist. Views are personal.

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8 Comments Share Your Views


  1. I agree with Mr Vijay & Mr Adok. It was a old ailment, injection given, will take some time to become healthy Kashmir free from disease of terrorism.

  2. Shoe is on the other Foot see how it hurts For all yr life u had no feelings for Pandits Brutalised Raped kicked out show some Repent now at least

  3. Sympathiser of Azadi brigade are more dangerous than real villain’s of JK. Readers be aware of international mafias who r engaged in destruction of India n it’s fabrics r to treated the way today’s dispensations r doing. Go head n cry before all forums but nobody shall hear you now on. Removalof Article 370 is for permanent although for some reason has been said to be temporary.

  4. I heard landlines are going to be restored. Hope the lines are restored and you can talk to your mother. Peace and best wishes to you and yours.

  5. For 30 yrs Pandits are waiting to see their lost world and here we have cry baby in Print wailing on communication lockdown for a week??? Over 41000 died in. This period due to Jehadi promoted violence who themselves live a palatial lifestyle with their progeny living & studying in foreign land.How much hypocrisy one can display???

  6. The statement “I am part of a WhatsApp group with my old classmates from Srinagar. Most of them now live outside J&K …” makes me infer that for livelihood, most youth need to move out of J&K and despite the special status of 370 has not done anything special. The curbs are to prevent violence and I believe in the sincerity of GoI when they state it will go away. Your as well as fellow citizens from J&K concerns for parents safety is valid and I believe that the honorable Indian Army is there to protect all citizens of India.

  7. Best wishes for your family.
    Hopefully peace is restored and Burhan Wani style medieval Jihad gets defeated. Also let us imagine the plight of Pandits and how they were brutally kicked out.


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