When I saw Kashmir

The beautiful Kashmir valley has remained a bone of contention in the subcontinent for 50 years. It has borders with India and Pakistan, and is of historical importance to both of these countries. The insecurity generated over Kashmir has resulted in two wars and escalating defence budgets on both sides, and is part of the reason that the countries have gained nuclear status, despite their starving millions.1 It is therefore natural that Kashmir evokes love and hatred in equal measure. Recently, however, it has also mustered a lot of sympathy, which has led to the opening of the line of control, an officially agreed boundary between India and Pakistan, which has allowed aid work to proceed.2

At first, the extent of the damage in northern Pakistan was unclear but slowly the horrific truth dawned that this could be the greatest natural disaster that the country has ever faced. At one point the United Nations believed that the South Asian earthquake was worse to help logistically than the Asian tsunami.3 It was this realisation that finally drove me to Muzaffarabad.

Although the Kashmir issue has encapsulated the minds of each generation since independence, this was the first time I felt motivated to experience Kashmir's sights and sounds, but then natural calamities often draw natural sympathies.