Commander in a Classroom

When violence began emerging as a factor in separatist politics, Baba organised the Muslim Janbaz Force, a pro-Pakistan militant outfit. He crossed over to Pakistan in early 1989 to set up base and the MJF soon became one of the biggest militant outfits and Baba, its chief commander.

Soon after setting up base in Pakistan, Baba returned to Kashmir in 1990, and masterminded a rocket-launcher attack on a CRPF camp in Srinagar. A price was announced on his head. The security agencies captured him alive after a brief shoot-out in a hide-out in Srinagar. He was released after two years, in 1993, but immediately he began working on revitalising the MJF, which, in the meantime, had merged with another pro-Pak group.

Meanwhile, Shah was released from jail. Baba returned in 1994, but strained relations finally led to a split in 1995. In an article in Chattan, a Srinagar-based weekly, around this time, Baba hinted at his disillusionment and a change of heart. One year later, he contacted top militant commanders — including Al-Barq chief Bilal Lodhi, Hizbul Mujahideen deputy chief Imran Rahi and Hizbul associate Mohideen Lone — to set up the Forum for Permanent Resolution of Kashmir and engage in dialogue with New Delhi. This was the first time any separatist group talked Kashmir with the Centre.

The talks failed after the Centre decided to hold assembly elections in Kashmir in 1996, but Baba and other leaders of the Forum had already decided to join the mainstream. After NC won the polls and formed the government, Baba joined the National Conference. He was immediately rewarded with a berth in the Legislative Council and was a member of the State’s upper house for four years.

Baba found his new-found non-violent image had many takers. He started playing an important role in track-two missions and set up the Kashmir Foundation for Peace and Development Studies, an NGO focusing on non-violence and reconciliation. Baba is currently pursuing a course in international studies at Stanford University. Observers may be having a hard time distinguishing between teacher and taught.

Law and Order

BILAL Lodhi, who gave up the gun alongside Baba, too, is deep into books nowadays. His favourite reading: law manuals. Once a dreaded militant, Lodhi is now an advocate with the Jammu and Kashmir High Court, and sees nothing strange in defending army personnel. ‘‘What matters is getting justice for my client,’’ says Lodhi. It was the same instinct for justice, he says, that prompted him to lead the Al Barq and represent the cause of Kashmiris. ‘‘But even then, I did not believe in killing innocents or destroying property. That is why there is no FIR against me — isn’t that amazing?’’ asks Lodhi, now a member of Mufti Sayeed’s People’s Democratic Party.

It was in 1991, when Lodhi, dejected over the rigging in the 1987 elections, left his home in Budgam district to cross over to Pakistan. Even his wife Farida Begum had no idea of his whereabouts for weeks. The same year, during one of his trips back home, he was trapped by security forces.

In Jammu Central Jail, he met Firdous Baba, and the seed was sown for his return to the mainstream. ‘‘That was the first time Lonesahib got angry with me’’ remembers Lodhi. ‘‘Who could have said then that Lonesahib himself would lay down his life a few years later for advocating talks with New Delhi.’’

Freedom to Be

AZADI means different things at different times. ‘‘After crossing the LoC from Kupwara, we stopped in no man’s land for a cup of tea,’’ remembers Usman Majid, 40. ‘‘It was such a pleasure to have no one objecting to our presence.’’

The year was 1989, and Majid had crossed over to Pakistan for arms training. ‘‘But the moment we were in their territory, we were packed into Jongas and taken to Peshawar for training. In April 1990, it took me five days of evading sniper fire to return to the Valley,” says Majid.

Picked up by the security forces the next year, the deputy chief of Ikhwan-ul-Muslimeen experienced a change of heart while in jail. ‘‘But my tanzeem abducted Surinder Dhar, deputy director of science and technology, and demanded the release of five militants — including me — as ransom. When I was released, I had to go back to Pakistan, where I was appointed spokesman of my outfit. Between 1992 and 1995, I was also vice-chairman of the United Jehad Council.’’

It was during this period that Majid came in contact with top ISI officials. ‘‘When I began questioning them, they abducted my brother. And they killed my comrade’s brother-in-law, because he, too, had started doubting them,’’ says Majid. ‘‘In 1995, I decided enough was enough, and joined the counter-insurgents as their spokesman and began helping my brother in business.’’

For Majid, azadi was achieved the moment he removed his finger from the trigger of the gun and instead started moving it on the calculator. “Today, our AKN Constructions is one of the leading companies in Bandipore. Earlier, people used to talk about the buildings we gutted, now they talk about buildings we have rebuilt.’’

It was this reaction that prompted Majid to join politics; he is now an MLA. Between his business and politics, Majid squeezes out time for wife Firdous and young daughters Falak and Muskan. And is nonplussed only when his seven-year-old asks him, ‘‘Papa, militant kyon fauji uncle ko maartey hain? (Why do militants target armymen?)’’