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By:

Kiran D. Tare

21 August 2024 at 11:23:13 am

A Level Playing Field in Kashmir

Jammu & Kashmir’s march into the Ranji Trophy final sends a larger message beyond sport. It says that after decades, the state is finally aligning with India’s political and civic mainstream. History has a habit of announcing itself in strange ways. In Jammu & Kashmir, it now announces itself by wearing cricket whites. As the once-turbulent state plays its first Ranji Trophy final in 67 years against Karnataka in Hubballi, the moment matters far more than a mere sporting miracle. It was...

A Level Playing Field in Kashmir

Jammu & Kashmir’s march into the Ranji Trophy final sends a larger message beyond sport. It says that after decades, the state is finally aligning with India’s political and civic mainstream. History has a habit of announcing itself in strange ways. In Jammu & Kashmir, it now announces itself by wearing cricket whites. As the once-turbulent state plays its first Ranji Trophy final in 67 years against Karnataka in Hubballi, the moment matters far more than a mere sporting miracle. It was incredible (one would have thought unimaginable until recently) to see J&K piling up 527 for six in a Ranji final while dictating terms to eight-time champions Karnataka.   Jammu & Kashmir’s arrival at the summit of Indian domestic cricket is not just an underdog fairy-tale but a marker of political normalisation in a region long defined by terrorism and scarred by violence. Troubled State That marginality was not accidental. From the moment of accession in 1947, Jammu & Kashmir has occupied a liminal constitutional space. Article 370 institutionalised the difference between the state and the rest of the country with separate laws, a separate flag, and limited applicability of parliamentary legislation for J & K. In New Delhi, the move was defended as ‘accommodation.’ In Srinagar, it became both shield and grievance. Over time, special status hardened into political stasis as power rotated among a few families. Militancy, once it erupted in the late 1980s, thrived in this vacuum as political instability and insurgency became the norm. A heavy security footprint ensured that ‘integration’ in J & K remained relegated to slogans rather than substance. Sport barely survived as talent drained outward. Auqib Nabi’s journey captures that old reality and its quiet reversal. In 2018–19, Nabi, a fast bowler from Baramulla, found himself in Bengaluru, relying on a friend in Kuwait to secure a second-division club contract. Eight years on, he is the most prolific wicket-taker in Indian domestic cricket across the last two seasons, with 55 wickets in the current Ranji campaign alone. At the IPL auction, Delhi paid Rs. 8.4 crore for him. Nabi’s rise mirrors that of his team. Jammu & Kashmir are no longer petitioners at Indian cricket’s door. They are its strongest contenders. And that shift has unfolded alongside a far more contentious political transformation. The abrogation of Article 370 in August 2019 during Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s second term was the most radical assertion of Indian sovereignty over the region since accession. It ended J&K’s special status, split the state into two Union Territories, and placed governance firmly under New Delhi’s supervision. Critics of the Modi government’s decision to abrogate Article 370 predicted catastrophe. The Congress and the so-called left-liberal ecosystem warned of irreversible alienation, democratic asphyxiation and an endless insurgency that would render Jammu & Kashmir ungovernable. Six years on, none of those apocalyptic forecasts have materialised. While militancy has not disappeared, it certainly has mutated to a much smaller scale than before. Markets in J & K function without habitual shutdowns and tourism has rebounded to record levels, sustaining thousands of livelihoods once hostage to unrest. Young Kashmiris speak less of resistance and more of careers. While the Pahalgam massacre last year was a grim reminder that Pakistan-backed groups retain the capacity to shock, equally important is what did not happen after Pahalgam. There was no prolonged paralysis of governance and no prolonged shutdown of civic life. Tourism slowed briefly but then resumed. And institutions no longer buckled down under political pressures as in the past. Cricket’s quiet flourishing is the best evidence of violence losing its veto over normal life in the state. By the time the insurgency had peaked in the 1990s, normal civic life in the state had collapsed under the shadow of terrorism. Cricket survived only in fragments. While Jammu & Kashmir had entered the Ranji Trophy in 1959, for decades participation felt symbolic rather than competitive. Momentous Turnaround When ex-cricketer Ajay Sharma, who has a formidable domestic record, took charge of the Jammu & Kashmir team in 2022, he encountered a culture shaped by limitation. Players spoke of IPL trials as endpoints. Being a net bowler was an achievement. Sharma has essayed a big role in changing the mindset of the players. His patience and efforts has paid dividends. Auqib Nabi’s journey, from second-division obscurity in Bengaluru to India’s most prolific domestic bowler, has become emblematic of the shift in aspirations of the state’s players. So has Abdul Samad’s recalibration from IPL-first bravado to first-class discipline. After stunning Mumbai away in 2024–25, the J & K cricket association built its first red-soil pitch at the Sher-i-Kashmir Stadium, consciously aligning preparation standards with the rest of India. The result is that today, J&K’s run to the final has drawn support from all across the country not as sympathy or charity of emotion, but as genuine admiration. Neutrals cheer them not because they are from a conflict zone, but because they have beaten Delhi in Delhi, Madhya Pradesh in Indore and Bengal in Kalyani. That mirrors India’s evolving political posture towards the region as well. The Centre no longer sells integration as an emotional project of unity, but as a ‘procedural one where same laws, same institutions, same expectations. One of the central critiques of Article 370 was that it fostered a politics of grievance without accountability. Since its removal, governance has become more uniform. That has sharpened incentives in the state as institutions are now measured on how they perform. Social Change This political transformation is reflected rather clearly in its social avatar, namely cricket. And the Ranji Trophy is particularly apt in this regard. It is India’s least glamorous but most levelling sporting institution. More subtly still, it captures a change in aspiration. For much of the insurgency era, Kashmiri youth were asked to define themselves politically. Today, an increasing number define themselves competitively. This is getting reflected in cricket, where J & K’s cricketers are defining themselves by their hunger for runs scored and wickets taken. This transition from grievance to ambition may yet prove the most enduring legacy of Jammu & Kashmir’s uneasy, unfinished integration. This is not to say that Jammu & Kashmir’s presence in the Ranji Trophy final is proof that all of the region’s knotty problems have been solved. But it certainly is evidence that Jammu & Kashmir’s alignment with India today runs through laws, institutions and yes, cricket. Which is why the sight of the state contesting the Ranji Trophy final in Hubballi feels quietly momentous. In many ways, it reveals how far the idea of ‘normalisation’ of J & K which was long promised but rarely delivered, has actually travelled.

Bharat’s Jetson Cities, Light-years Away from Nature

Updated: Jan 20, 2025

Jetson Cities

One thing is for certain: our Bharatiya cities, the big metros and towns, are fast becoming like the ‘Jetson’ cities. For those who are unaware of Jetson cities, these were first shown in the famous Hanna-Barbera cartoon series, the Jetsons, set in the 2100s, where cities are air-tight glass globules tethered to the ground, and the only way to get in and out are the flying cars. Yes, we, the city-dwellers, aspire to tall skyscrapers, spectacular bridges, world-class tunnels, swooshing metro trains, and we are building Jetson-like flying cars. A few HD drone images here and there, during the day and at night and around twilight, and we are content that our cities have become the cynosure of our own eyes. We want our cities to be brightly lit, with neon signs, laser shows, and large billboard videos. We would then fulfil our inner desire to have a city on par with Tokyo, New York, and Shanghai.


Our buildings, designed for the next 30 years, are well air-conditioned, shielding occupants from a soupy dust bowl of brown smog, soot, particulate matter, and fine dust. It is said that most new home buyers invest at least 10% of their property’s price in enhancing the interiors, soundproofing their homes, using air purifiers and conditioners, and disconnecting from the outside world for that much-needed solace. Indeed, large builders promote their projects as close to nature amidst tranquillity. However, there is always another builder eager to get one plot of land ahead of yours to enjoy that nature. To be truthful, access to nature now comes at a premium - even the skies.


Let’s assume the working-age population is occupied in the leisure of our Jetson cities, but how many of their young school and college-going kids have seen the long arm of the Milky Way galaxy from their cities? How many have witnessed a comet zooming by? How many know about endemic plants with medicinal properties? When did they last see a chirping house sparrow? How many know that the nearest sewage drain was once a freshwater stream? When did they last find their suburban beach prettier than the resort beaches of Maldives?


The intent to ask these questions is simple: Bharat is currently at a crossroads. Pundits are enthusiastic about a cultural renaissance on the horizon. Corporate leaders, on the other hand, want us to invest hundreds of hours each week to pay our dues to the growth of the national GDP. But no one asks, if a cultural renaissance is to occur, who will generate the new understandings and insights of nature that arise typically during such a period of human advancement? No one is actually asking, for whom are we building the nation if there is no time for children, or worse, if there is no time or intent to have children. In the process of growing rich, we are about to become old. By 2047, 65% of the population under the age of 35 will grow beyond 35 all at once, and we’d have an enormous population in advanced ages with a tapering young population, a graph that looks like a banyan tree. Unfortunately, that young population will have no access to the knowledge that nature has to offer, neither flora and fauna nor the seas and the skies.


Our urbane lifestyles need tempering. Such tempering can occur only if we ensure the revival of natural sciences during this period of cultural renaissance and nation-building. Let’s not rely solely on the educational system. With Indian Knowledge Systems, constructive changes are underway, and academic curricula are poised to improve for the greater good. However, true knowledge arises only when parents and grandparents introduce children to nature. Genuine understanding also develops from extracurricular activities in schools and colleges that encourage kids to observe, journal, and act on their discoveries. On the positive side, our country’s forest cover is increasing, as announced by the government. However, efforts must be made to ensure that every school or college, whether in Mumbai, Vijayawada, Gorakhpur, Ratlam, Thrissur, Bhuj, Faridabad, Imphal, Manali, Cuttack, or Ajmer, guarantees that their students are well aware of the endemic nature of their surroundings and are regularly observing and recording data on whatever interests them. Let kids observe rivers and understand the volume of water that flows through them. Let children learn about the decline of house sparrows in their cities and what steps should be taken to revive their populations. Let them study the bees in their nearby groves and recognise the vital role these bees play in nature.


Of course, you need to learn AI, robotics, fintech, the next generation of management courses, and all the engineering bells and whistles. However, we must not leave the next generation with inadequate comprehension and skills for understanding nature. We must ensure that nature conservation is not merely lip service or a tool for politicised green activists. This can be achieved if natural sciences are given the respect they deserve at the school, undergraduate, and postgraduate levels.


Indeed, I am a plebeian, and you might feel that you, too, could write a rant about the plight of our urban lives. Urban development and municipal experts have many solutions to propose, but few are willing to take action. However, that is not the issue I wish to highlight. I aim to illustrate a much larger concern—that Indian city dwellers are disoriented and devoid of nature, lacking a guiding star to lead them toward a brighter future. Our cities of Mumbai, Delhi, Bengaluru, Ahmedabad, Kolkata, and Chennai have taken on characteristics reminiscent of Jetson-like cities. We show little regard for the Nagar Devata, Gram Devata, and Van Devata, who have protected the cities, towns, and forests that once surrounded us. We wait for formal governance to clean up our beaches, rivers, and ponds without making sufficient efforts to prevent pollution in the first place.


For those striving to grasp spirituality not through the Puranas and Aadi-Granth but through new-age podcasts, I recommend watching Vinay Varanasi’s podcast on Bhagavan Vishnu’s Dashavatar. If it is clear that Bhagavan Vishnu does not tolerate disregard for Bhudevi or Mother Earth, why do we, the devotees of Bhagavan Vishnu, continue to pollute our Mother Earth—her air, soil, waters, and sounds? Or have we taken Elon Musk's words at face value, assuming our next destination is Mars after destroying Earth, only to ruin Mars later, even worse than its current clinically sterile state? If that is the case, then bear with me when I say this: these Jetson cities stand on precarious pillars of ego, victimhood, apathy, and consumerism, waiting to be toppled either by the true harbingers of order or by false prophets. Therefore, teach the next generations to observe nature, appreciate our coexistence with other species, and venerate the forces of nature. By doing so, we humans will be good, at least for the next thousand years. If not, prepare for a bleak future by the end of this century.


(The author is a Space and Emerging Technology Fellow at the Centre for Security, Strategy and Technology, Observer Research Foundation, Mumbai. Views personal.)

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