Ami Vitale

Extremism never had a place in Kashmir and many attribute it to the fact that Islam was brought through the gentle persuasion of Sufi saints who always emphasized humanism and tolerance. Sadly, this gentle spirit is being lost as two nations wage war over the small piece of land nestled like a pearl in a tumultuous region. India and Pakistan have shaped their foreign policies around events in Kashmir and the result is over 80,000 lives lost, mostly native Kashmiris, in the last 15 years alone, and a region under siege. Indians insist Kashmir is an integral part of their country and without it, they could not embrace their secular credentials. Pakistanis says the "K" in Pakistan stands for Kashmir and that they will continue to offer moral and diplomatic support to militants fighting for independence. Srinagar, the summer capital of Kashmir once bustled with life and laughter.
Now it lies neglected and pockmarked with craters. Hotels have been turned into barracks, guns peek out behind broken glass windows and netting protects bleary-eyed soldiers from the frequent grenade attacks. The surrounding mountains, once lush and dotted with delightful Alpine cottages, sit quietly as structures deteriorate and collapse. The poetry of this magnificent culture has degenerated into the language of mourning and everyone here is held hostage to the suffering. Misery is the keystone to the Kashmiris’ way of life and the new generation, overwhelmed by anger, hatred and confusion, have only heard the language of the gun.

The gaping hole of years of conflict have been filled with the corpses of young men and those spaces that remain free are being filled by a whole new generation who are turning away from moderate Islam. With close to 700,000 men in uniform in the Kashmir Valley and an unending death toll listed prominently on the front page of every daily newspaper in Kashmir, the unique richness of Kashmir's history and culture can only be revived by looking towards its peaceful past. One visit was not enough for me. I wandered briefly into the poetry of Kashmir in November of 2001 and could not let go. Whether trudging through the perfectly etched landscape that included rice fields cascading into the valleys like delicately carved staircases, sipping saffron tea in the warmth of a Kashmiri home or being cradled in the tranquility of a wooden shikara, a gondola style boat, on Dal Lake, this place filled me with affection.

I wanted to understand Kashmir and delve below the reflections in its still lakes. The mountains were mirrored perfectly until the oar hit the water, a crack rippled through the reflection and one began to sense that all is not what it seems. These photographs are dedicated to all those who have died and to those that are living in the shadows of those deaths. It is my desire to give justice to the beauty, strength and suffering of Kashmir’s people and to the unique richness of their history and culture.

I hope to inspire in others the feelings that Kashmir has given rise to myself, particularly the simultaneous apprehension of beauty and terror. I believe that all the inherent beauty will survive despite humanity’s ongoing attempts to control and destroy it. Because in this intricate place, where truth and fiction are sometimes inseparable, politics and poetry overlap, the pain is sometimes too great to bear, and yet joy is still possible because of the spirit of the people and their eternal hope for peace.