Bagging this year’s “Infosys Prize for the Humanities”, Ananya Jahanara Kabir, professor of English Literature, King’s College London, shares some very individualistic thoughts and experiences which led to her insightful research on Kashmir. As a scholar she firmly upholds the notion that the field of humanities works as a catalyst in conflict resolution and peace keeping. Excerpts from an interview:

Q Can you elaborate on your research on Kashmir?

My research examined the construction of the valley of Kashmir as a territory of desire: a space which at least three nations have fought for control of, and continue to do so. Why has the valley been so intensely desired?

I dissect the statement, “Kashmir is an integral part of India” as a collective desire on the part of the citizen towards a space that they may have little actual experience of. I investigated on what produced that desire, what sustains it as a political force, what resistance to it may exist, and, whether it can be channelled into non-militaristic modes of conflict-resolution. Because it was clear that the image of the valley as a space of ideal natural beauty was primarily produced visually, I investigated Bollywood films and established that the views they promote were a direct inheritance from colonial pioneers of high altitude photography. To understand why such photographers would be motivated to travel to these mountainous regions with cumbersome equipment in the late 19th century, I searched for ways in which colonial and indigenous authorities in the 19th and early 20th centuries were constructing the valley as a space of antiquity, learning and beauty. There were clear connections between those colonial discourse and postcolonial ways of enjoying Kashmir as a space of escape, tourism and adventure. In the process, the people of Kashmir had been erased from the space. But that didn’t mean they didn’t have their own understanding of their landscape and relationship to its undeniable beauty. So my book also looked at poetry, short stories, visual art, and films by Kashmiris.

Q What pushed you to work on Kashmir?

After the Godhra violence, I felt a keen sense of responsibility to understand and analyse all that was erupting around us. As an Indian citizen, I felt most responsible for the lack of knowledge around Kashmir as a space of culture and civilisation. Only when I started researching Kashmir, for instance, I started understanding what Koshur, the Kashmiri language, means to Kashmiris. I wanted to go beyond the stereotypes to find out more about that space and link different things together-our ignorance about Kashmiri culture, our use of the valley as a space of tourism and escape, the conflict, and the relationship of the colonial past and the postcolonial present. I believe I found some answers.

Q How did you go about the research?

I constructed a corpus of primary materials of different kinds-colonial photography, films, poetry and prose written by Kashmiris in different languages, sculpture, handicraft and painting. Obtaining them necessitated several trips to Kashmir, Bombay and Delhi. I even went to Mexico City to view an exhibition of the latest paintings by artist Nilima Sheikh, whose dialogue with Kashmir poet Agha Shahid Ali forms a thread through the book. Often I had the sense of pursuing secrets that were hidden behind straightforward representations, and often the base level of representation would turn out to be a trapdoor leading to deeper levels. I began to theorise these connections through ways of knowing that we may dismiss as irrational, such as Sufism, but which have relevance and meaning for us in South Asia as alternative and valid modes of accessing and formulating knowledge. My research, in the end, was about talking to Kashmiris, sensing through their narratives, an alternative history of understanding Kashmir, and hunting for research connections based on those clues.

Q Given the burning issues of Kashmir, how challenging was the project?

I visited Srinagar and Jammu several times between 2003 and 2008. My first challenge was to get to know people and establish relations of trust and reciprocity. However, we are talking about a long-term conflict zone, which was in those years marked by an uneasy but fragile lull in overt violence. The presence of the military was everywhere, and it was clearly not a normal place. The people were supremely hospitable and welcoming, even though they had every right to refuse to be, as research on Kashmir, as with any conflict zone, can degenerate into something of an industry. I had to be keenly aware of my ethical responsibilities as a researcher, to be mindful of emotions, traumas, and burdens. The biggest challenge was to conduct meaningful and sensitive research without breaking the trust of people or misjudging their capacity to survive and overcome their ordeals.

There was every chance of being caught up in violence. But looking back, I realise I put all thoughts of my own safety on hold whenever I went to Srinagar. Sheer passion for my work carried me through, as did the warm relations I developed there over the years.

Q What do you aim to achieve through this research?

Through my research I aimed to make everyone sit up and rethink the statement, “Kashmir is an integral part of India”. I wanted to show people how ideas and positions we take for granted have a history. Also to excavate and narrate that history, so that people asks whether we can’t change the way things are by imagining non-violent ways of relating to each other.

An important issue was the general invisibility of Kashmiris from mainstream understanding of Kashmir. To bring them back into discussions and its representation was a motivation of this research and I hope I achieved that in some way. I also wanted to show people that the knowledge produced by arts and humanities research is an undervalued but supremely important resource for conflict resolution and peacekeeping.