The “our” in tour: Tourism in Kashmir and its ethics

Home as paradise

Kashmir has had to often bear the weight of the epithet “paradise”. Time and again, it is described as a paradise on Earth or jannat-e-beynazir. We Kaeshir also repeat this formulation, mostly with pride. But have you ever paused for a moment to wonder what calling Kashmir a paradise really implies?

As we all know, Paradise—Jannat—is the place from where Aadam, the first human, was thrown out along with his wife, Hawa (Eve), for disobeying God’s command. Paradise is also the place which has been promised to their progeny on the Day of Judgment if they stay true to God’s word. The faithful have been promised all kinds of joys and pleasures in Paradise. Everything in Paradise, including what could be called its residents (the hoors), has only one purpose: To serve and please the faithful who have earned a place in it.

We do not know if the human race originated in Kashmir. However, when we slap the epithet “paradise” on Kashmir, willy nilly, it creates the allusion that it is a place promised to the people coming from the outside for their enjoyment.

But Kashmir is not that kind of paradise. It has not been promised to anyone as a reward for their good deeds. It is home to people who have lived here for millennia, shaping the land with their labour and love, and being shaped by the land in the process. Koshur qaum is not hoors, we are humans and have the same rights to life and land as the rest of humanity.

Yet the millstone has become stuck around our necks: “Gar firdous barueae zameen ast, hamien asto, hamein asto, hamein ast.” Round and round it churns, crushing our dignity and our first right to this land, which others may call Eden, but which to us is our only home. It should not come as a surprise that these Persian words were first used to describe Kashmir by an emperor (Jehangir). The sentiment they represent comes but naturally to rulers, who think that the whole world (or at least the realm they lord over), including the people who live in it, exists only for their pleasure.

The Mughals went on a garden-building spree in Kashmir and might have covered the whole valley with gardens had the rise of Marathas and the East India Company not engaged them elsewhere. These gardens were built on prime agricultural land. It was almost as if the Mughals were signaling to the Kaeshir peasantry that enjoying the pleasures of these gardens was more important than the revenue they could have collected if komil’ had worked the land under them. (Nowadays, we are rushing to complete the Mughal’s unfinished business by ourselves by turning productive agricultural land around our houses into flower gardens!) The Mughals could (and did) collect revenue elsewhere; Kashmir was their playground.

The semantics of tourism

Over the last few centuries, these sentiments have been cemented and reinforced by an assortment of rulers—Afghan, Sikh, Dogra and British, and Indian: Jannat-e-Kashmir is meant for the pleasure of privileged outsiders. They do not want us except to enhance their experience of the paradise; they do not even want our taxes, they just want the right to first use of the land.

In the 20th and 21st centuries, this has translated into an increased focus on tourism. Paradise on Earth has been branded (by foreign rulers and their local honchos) as a land of empty meadows, and vast and virgin landscapes meant for the enjoyment of tourists and, lately, pilgrims. The people of Kashmir are either an accidental detail in this scheme of things, a necessary evil, if you will, which the tourist must learn to accept if they are to fully enjoy their “Kashmir experience”; or they are a part of the landscape, helping enhance the experience of Kashmir for the tourists.

More often than not, the Koshur qaum has been a willing partner in this project of fantasies. There are many reasons for this collaboration, the details of which deserve to be paid the kind of close attention which is not possible here. Instead, we are going to concentrate on the contours of tourism in Kashmir.

Tourism has become as much a political issue as it is an issue of economics. The Indian administered government and media have created a discourse that tourism is the backbone of Kashmir’s economy, without which we cannot survive. This discourse is not only not true, but it is also not unlike the “firdaus barueae zameen ast” discourse of the garden-maniac Mughals. Kashmir is a productive land populated by an industrious and resourceful people. We survived the long centuries when there was no notion of tourism, relying on agriculture, craftsmanship and trade. There is no reason we can’t repeat this history of self-reliance and hard work to survive in the future.

This is not to deny the role of tourism. Tourism is an important source of revenue for Kashmir and could become an even more significant one if the people of Kashmir were to be the masters of their own destiny, and if there were structural reforms and greater awareness among Kashmiris about how tourism functions socially, politically and economically. Tourism is important to us economically, but not the backbone of our economy.

Perhaps of even greater value than the economic benefits that accrue from tourism is the fact that it brings the whole world into our tiny little valley, quite literally. By and large, Kashmir has always been a cosmopolitan place, welcoming new people (who have come here as traders, travellers, refugees, or simply as the curious) and new influences from all over the world. These influences and people have made Kashmir what it is today. Our ancestors, most likely snake worshippers, embraced Buddhism whole-heartedly when it arrived in Kashmir from Magadha (Bihar). Centuries later, their children took to Islam, like fish to water. We raised our fists in support of the first ideas of communism, feminism and democracy. We were some of the first to embrace the rise of Islamism. We got samavar from the Russians, crockery from the Tibetans, utensils from the Persians, and martswangan, raetwangan and aelve from the South Americans, to give just a few examples. Now that a globalized world is learning and relearning the values of multiculturalism, we are not going to turn our backs on it.

So to say that we don’t want any tourism in Kashmir is not a very smart line of argument. But to continue calling our home “paradise” is equally dumb. Kashmir is Kashmir, home to the Kaesher qaum; it is not anyone’s paradise. As the Pashto proverb goes: “Har chata khpal watan Kashmir de” (Everyone’s country is their Kashmir). Kashmir is beautiful, but it is not a special kind of beautiful or the only beautiful place in the world.

What then is the way forward?

The notion of hospitality

At the heart of this debate is the notion of hospitality. Koshur qaum is legendary for its hospitality. But what exactly is hospitality and what does it entail? We know that, in the broadest sense, hospitality means welcoming friends, visitors and strangers into our home, providing them food, shelter, goodwill and, very often, entertainment. But do you know that the root word of the term “hospitality” is “hostis”, which means “enemy” or “stranger” (and from which terms like “hostility” are derived)? Perhaps this was how (and why) hospitality was invented: By welcoming enemies and strangers into our home so that they may become our friends.

Similarly, have you ever wondered why only people and nations from which dominant outsiders want something are legendary for their hospitality? When Scotland was conquered by the English, Scottish hospitality became famous. Even as Western European countries, particularly Belgium, Britain, France and Portugal, were colonizing African nations and tribes, the legends of African hospitality poured out like the African gold. An age-old maxim, “attiti devo bhava” (the guest is a god), was invented for the Hindu heartland of the subcontinent—a mishmash of castes who literally could not even stand each other’s shadows, let alone welcome strangers into their homes—after the British started gaining a foothold in the subcontinent. The British and the French invented an overly-enthusiastic version of Arab hospitality when they wanted to increase their influence in the Middle East. In a bid to secure their holdings in the Far East and to create a more conducive atmosphere in Japan, European colonialism began to sing paeans to Japanese hospitality. Pashto melmastia became legendary once the British realized the northwestern frontiers of their subcontinental empire could not be secured without Pashtun bonhomie. This is only a tiny sample, but enough to give us a broad picture.

Another disclaimer will not be amiss here. These examples have not been summoned to prove that hospitality is a bad thing. On the contrary, hospitality is one of the greatest practices of humankind, and one of the primary signs of humanity. That is why most cultures and religions stress on being kind to friend and stranger alike, and welcoming them into our homes. These examples have only been listed to demonstrate how hospitality has been constructed and shaped historically, at least in the modern era.

The larger point here is that hospitality is a mutual relationship between the host and the guest. Its terms cannot be dictated by one party. Both parties have privileges as well as duties. The privilege of the host is to retain authority within the premises and the privilege of the guest is to fully enjoy whatever is made available by the host freely. The duty of the host is to make the guest feel at home, and the duty of the guest is to not overextend their welcome. In the context of tourism in Kashmir, our duty, as hosts, is to make tourists feel welcome and comfortable. Their duty, in turn, is to not interfere in a manner which might fundamentally alter any physical, social or cultural artifact against our will or without our consent. Our privilege is to stop tourists from doing anything we deem harmful to ourselves. Their privilege is to enjoy our hospitality and seek a reasonable explanation if they are asked to do something—or refrain from doing something—by us.

Let us illustrate this point with an example. Every culture in the world has a certain dress code. Some outfits are considered formal, others informal and still others casual. Certain garbs are considered inappropriate for a particular gender, age, class, etc. This holds true for Kashmir as well. Tourists visiting Kashmir bring with them their own dress code, informed by a long history of their culture, religion, etc., as well as the topography and climate of the place they are from. Sometimes there might be a clash between our clothing sensibilities and theirs. If their dress is only a little inappropriate, we might try to ignore it or disapprove of it with only our eyes. That is our right. If such a tourist is willing to risk our continued disapproval for the sake of their dress, so be it. That is their right. However, in such cases we ought not to disapprove of the dress through any other verbal or non-verbal means. Their duty, in turn, is to try not to offend their hosts’ sensibilities. This they can do by offering an explanation on why they are wearing the dress which we find measurably inappropriate.

On the other hand, if they wear a dress which we find very offensive for any reason—for example, if it borders on nudity as per our sartorial sensibilities—we can ask them to change it. That is our right, since the public space in Kashmir belongs to all Kaeshir people collectively. But their right is to demand an explanation about how their dress violates our sensibilities. Our duty is to be civil and patient in our objection and explanations. Their duty is to comply with the local dress code once a reasonable explanation has been provided.

Thus, hospitality is a continuous dialogue between the host and the guest. But dialogues must be free and fair. They cannot take place in an atmosphere of fear or duress, nor can certain terms of a dialogue be dictated by one party.

For whom does the bell of tourism toll?

This is the crux of the debate. Over the years, the contours of tourism in Kashmir have been defined and redefined by outsiders. Our notion of hospitality—a beautiful thing—has been hackneyed into an empty signifier which can mean anything the foreigners want it to at a given moment of time.

Take the example of Kashmiriyat. In a literal sense, it means the state of being Kashmiri (or Koshur, as per our lingo). However, the state of being of an individual as well as a nation is always in flux, changing with time and adapting to situations—if you feel threatened by someone, you are less welcoming towards them; if someone is nice to you, you try to be nicer. So Kaeshir people, individually and collectively, can become, say, more religious under the influence of outsiders we view positively or as a response to the rise of religiosity in our neighbourhood or among our enemies. Therefore, Kashmiriyat is an ever-evolving concept, mutating under the influence of internal and external factors. But foreigners use the term to describe a certain non-existent Kaeshir state of being which is set in stone and inscribed with terms like “communal harmony” and “happy-go-lucky attitude”. This rigid Kashmiriyat is then designated as the cornerstone of Kashmiri hospitality which, in turn, in dubbed as the axis on which tourism in Kashmir revolves. As you can see, all these terms have been devised by foreigners for their own benefit and may or may not resemble any actual practice in Kashmir.

Kashmir must have tourism, but Kashmiris must be in control of how much and what kind of, tourism we want. Outsiders cannot define our hospitality for us and the whole world. These principles do not apply only to foreigners. In certain contexts, Kaeshir can be tourists too within Kashmir. Within those contexts, these principles must also apply to us.

Nations and people around the world set rules for tourism. These rules can be reasonable as well as unreasonable, and closer scrutiny reveals their true nature. For example, Bhutan has a limit on how many foreign tourists can visit a year. The kingdom is ensconced within the Himalayas and has a fragile mountain ecology. So this rule is reasonable. Similarly, in Singapore, there is a strict fine on spitting in public places. The city-state is small in area and, therefore, this parochial focus on hygiene is also reasonable. On the other hand, the recent decision by the United States government to not allow people from certain Muslim countries to visit the country is unreasonable. In this case, this distinction between visitors only on the basis of religion is arbitrary.

The same principles apply to Kashmir. Our fragile mountain ecology demands care. Our distinct culture demands respect as any other. We must ensure that foreigners trying to manipulate us into giving them greater and greater control in and access to Kashmir by narrating tales of our glorious hospitality are not allowed to burn our home down. After all, even if we were to accept for a moment that Kashmir is paradise, we must remember that only the deserving can gain an entry into it.

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Keeping this in mind, let us move to some concrete examples of this debate in action.

Road signs

Have you ever wondered why road signs all over Kashmir seem to be designed for tourists, particularly Indian tourists? Granted that these signs are meant for the ignorant strangers—locals, with better knowledge of the area, hardly need a traffic sign to point them in the right direction—but sign boards are supposed to be erected by locals to help outsiders. In Kashmir, they give a distinct feeling of being erected by foreigners not only for their own benefit, but to tell even Kashmiris what is what.

For example, you would have noticed that familiar places are spelled strangely and unrecognizably on street name signs: “Sodur” as “Sadura”, “Yejbrod” as “Bijbehara”, “Duor” as “Dooru”, “Pulwoam” as “Pulwama”, “Rueonwoar” as “Rainawaari, “Bundpoor” as “Bandipoora”, but “Sangam” is not mutilated into “Sangama”, probably because sangam is already a Sanskrit word. “Chhanpur” means “abode of carpenters”, but what does “Chanapora” mean? “Baaltal” with a soft “t” means “under the mountain”, but what does “Baltaal” with a hard “t” mean?

Similarly, have you noticed that road signs mostly list tourist spots but not other localities with much larger populations. It is Pahalgam–Gulmarg–Sonmarg all the way. Lately, this has become even more prominent as an army of traffic signs has been deployed in the service of yatris (pilgrims) travelling to Amarnath.
Many newer road signs are written in Nagri, a script hardly anyone in Kashmir reads. A clear sign of hegemony.

What should you do?

1. Take every opportunity to correct the spelling of the name of your village, mohalla or district. There is no reason to be ashamed of pronouncing their names like we do in Koshur. In fact, that is the only correct pronunciation and spelling.
2. If you think street name signs or road signs are missing important locations, get them listed.
3. The languages of street signs should be Koshur (or any other local language spoken in the area), English and Urdu; only if there is space should Hindi be included.

Media coverage

Media coverage of tourism in Kashmir tells a similar story. Foreign media, particularly Indian media, covers Kashmir largely from the angle of tourism. If anything newsworthy happens in Kashmir, for example, killing of militants or civilians by Indian armed forces, blinding of protestors, arrest of a pro-freedom leader, revelation of corruption in Indian administrated government, etc., Indian (and other foreign) media focuses primarily on the effect it will have on tourism. For a few months in a year, this focus is zoomed even further onto the Amarnath yatra. Kaeshir people might be dying but the only thing the media seems to be interested in is what effect their death will have on the smooth conduct of Amarnath yatra!

What should you do?

1.  If you can write stories about Kashmir, focus on the daily lives of people and not how their daily lives affect tourism.
2. If you don’t write but know a journalist or writer, ask them to focus on people’s lives instead of obsessing over tourism.
3. Refrain from giving interviews, quotes or bytes to reporters who want to do exclusively touristy stories.

Pollution

People of the subcontinent are notorious for their bad civic sense and hygiene. This is one of the prime reasons why Indian cities are so dirty. Indian tourists visiting Kashmir will have the tendency to litter everywhere. Plastic waste is particularly dangerous because it remains in the environment for a long, long time, tearing through it like a hot knife through butter. Indian tourists might also defecate in the open (particularly near the banks of a river or stream) because for them a little convenience for themselves is preferable over protecting the environment from pollution and others from disease.
These issues become even more severe in ecologically-sensitive places like Pahaelgam and Sonmarg. These areas are used as base camps for the Amarnath yatra, but they are also at the base of the Kolahai glacier, the single-largest source of water in Kashmir. Even the presence of a large number of people near the glacier can have a deleterious effect on it; the carbon dioxide and heat they produce being like acid to the ice. When these people use vehicles and helicopters, light fires to keep warm or to cook food, and throw plastic waste all around, the results are catastrophic. Similarly, unabated and unsupervised, the Seven Lake Trek and other such movement in the high mountains are disastrous for our future.

What should you do?

1. If you see a tourist indulging in littering or open defecation (particularly near sources of water), you have a right and a duty to stop them. Be firm, but not violent. Remember, tourists are here only for a few days, but we have to live in this land generation after generation. So we must take care of it.
2. If you come across a particularly polluted area, for example, if there is a lot of plastic or metallic waste at a place, or human excreta near a water body, you must contact the relevant authorities to get it cleaned. Follow up and see if they have cleaned up the area; if not, go to a higher authority or get in touch with the media to create pressure on the authorities to act.
3. You should put pressure on the authorities to curtail the number of tourists and pilgrims visiting ecologically-sensitive zones. Their movement and activities must be monitored and supervised.

“Shudh vaishnov bhojanalayas” and our economy

Tourism only makes sense if it benefits the local economy. One of the primary means by which tourism benefits the economy of a place is through the food industry. Tourists enjoy local cuisine at tourist prices and this gives the local economy a boost. However, like Muslims and Jews, upper-caste Indian tourists are very picky about the food they eat. Many of them do not eat meat, some do not even eat garlic and onions. This has given rise to “shudh vaishnov bhojanalayas” around Kashmir. These bhojanalayas (eateries) are run by Indians for Indians; so their benefit to the local economy is moot.

What should you do?

1. You must respect the eating sensibilities of our guests. Since upper-caste Hindu Indians do not eat meat, we should give them a taste of our veggies.
2. Kashmir has a rich platter of dishes prepared without meat. Unfortunately, many outsiders do not know about these dishes. Some are under the impression that we only eat meat. You must run publicity campaigns to disabuse them of this notion.
3. You should contact the relevant authorities to design a strategy to end the reign of “shudh vaishnov bhojanalayas” in Kashmir. Indians can eat Indian food in India. In Kashmir, they must taste ours.

Tolls, traffic and train services

Another thing which makes no sense economically is the waiver the Indian administered government gives to Indian tourists on a variety of tolls and taxes. Recently, it was announced that vehicles carrying Amarnath pilgrims will not be charged toll tax on the new expressway in Kashmir. If we don’t make money from the visit of tourists, why would we want them in the first place?

Similarly, the government has started passing orders banning the passage of local traffic (at certain hours at certain times in the year) to let tourists pass through. This is a blatant violation of our rights, including our right to first use of the land. The government went to the extent of suspending local trains to ease the movement of Amarnath pilgrims.

What should you do?

1. You should not accept tourism in any form unless it brings economic benefit to Kashmir.
2. Tourists are our guests and we must ensure they feel comfortable in Kashmir. But their comfort cannot come at the cost of our own. You must oppose any form of restrictions laid on Kashmiris by the Indian administered government, or any other government in the future, for the sake of tourists.
3. You must stand up for your right and the right of your fellow Kashmiris to the first use of land (particularly public spaces) in Kashmir.

Respect for local culture, history and social norms

This is another sensitive area. There might be a clash between the sensibilities of tourists and those of the locals. Tourists might also be disrespectful towards local history and social norms. For example, some tourists might break into a dance routine at our sacred or revered places where dancing is inappropriate. Similarly, they might resort to what we perceive as hooliganism and generally create ruckus. There can be many reasons for this. It might be because of a genuine ignorance or misunderstanding of local traditions and customs. It may be because they have been fed a propaganda diet that Kashmir is an empty land without any people (the paradise paradigm we have discussed in detail earlier); so they can do anything they want without the fear of offending local sensibilities. It may also be because they want to tease and rile locals and show their hegemony over us.

What should you do?

1. In each case a dialogue must be initiated to find out the reason for such behaviour on the part of the tourists.
2. If they are resorting to hooliganism inadvertently, it must be explained to them why it is wrong.
3. If they are indulging in such activities on purpose, you have a right to stop them.

What kind of tourist do we want?

This is the ultimate question. All the other issues can be subsumed under this one. Who is an ideal tourist in the context of Kashmir?

Our little valley is perched delicately on the Himalayas and is ecologically as fragile as ice in March. The infrastructure in our valley is also not massive, nor should it be—if we have to learn something from the garden-building Mughals, it should be that there is no profit in turning productive agricultural land into either gardens or roads.

Every summer, the arrival of a massive number of tourists seems like an invasion. In Srinagar, there are traffic jams galore. On the main highway from Srinagar to Qaezgund, the movement of locals is severely restricted for the convenience of tourists. The roads between Srinagar on the one hand and Sonmarg and Gulmarg on the other hand tell a similar story. All the tourist spots are jam-packed and polluted beyond repair—plastic, food and human waste, discarded items of clothing, smoke from fires and vehicles, and the sheer breathing of so many souls—every year these places die a little.

When such are the circumstances, it is clear that Kashmir cannot support the vast hordes of tourists. Instead, we need a limited number of tourists each of whom spends more in Kashmir.

What should you do?

1. Why are hotels and lodgings in Kashmir so cheap? You should get in touch with any association or body of hoteliers and lodgers in Kashmir and get them to raise the rents.
2. We can learn from the example of Leh, where the local transporters’ association does not allow outside vehicles to carry passengers locally. Tourists visiting Kashmir must use only local transport.
3. Similarly, we must ensure that tourists visiting Kashmir get a taste of the local cuisine, cooked with or without meat, instead of eating what they eat at home. These places must be owned and run by Kashmiris.
4. The authorities must put an upper cap on the number of tourists who can visit Kashmir in a year, learning a lesson from Bhutan’s tourism policy.
5. A mechanism must be developed to ensure that every tourist visiting Kashmir spends at least a stipulated bare minimum amount during their trip.