FEBRUARY 5, 2001 VOL. 157 NO. 5

Chris Brown/SABA for TIME. A man remembers the dead at Srinigar's Martyrs Graveyard.

Play Nice
Half a century, two wars, thousands of killings, millions of damaged lives. Are India and Pakistan stumbling toward resolution of the Kashmir divide?
By MICHAEL FATHERS New Delhi

ALSO
Militant School
An exclusive look inside the training camps that mold young men into guerrilla martyrs for Islam
Essay: Remembering one of the "disappeared"

The jumbled gravestones crammed into a dusty playground corner look forlorn in the weak midwinter sun. The boisterous calls of children playing cricket nearby remove all sense of solemnity. It is not an impressive spot for dead heroes. But this Srinagar burial plot, known as the Martyrs Graveyard, is the final resting place for many of the victims of violent Kashmir, the battleground of one of the world's most bitter disputes—the one between India and Pakistan.

Beside a freshly dug grave a man named Irfan sits alone reading the Koran. His brother Mudasir Ahmed Rather, 19, and his friend Arif Mohammed Khan, 18, were the last militants to die before India's unilateral ceasefire took effect on Nov. 28. They were shot dead by Indian security forces on Nov. 26 soon after returning from their training camps in Pakistan, across the Line of Control, which divides Kashmir. Irfan says he tried to turn the two away from violence. His plea was rejected. "They said they wanted to become martyrs." Martyrs for Kashmir? "No," says Irfan, "martyrs for Islam."

Born out of Britain's partition of the subcontinent in 1947, the Kashmir imbroglio continues to threaten peace in South Asia. But after two full-scale wars in 1948 and 1965, unending artillery duels, annual clashes on the world's highest glacier, a two-month battle for a row of Himalayan peaks at Kargil in 1999—not to mention a tragic 12-year insurgency within Kashmir—the leaders of India and Pakistan appear interested in ending the hostilities. At least, they are looking for ways to do so. A peace process is beginning.

ALSO IN TIME COVER: Forecast 2001 Wanna know what's in store? Or are you afraid to look? Here are some clues to what's ahead INDIA: The Ground Beneath Their Feet The Subcontinent struggles to put the pieces back together as a powerful earthquake claims thousands of lives KASHMIR: In the Line of Fire After decades of conflict, thousands of sons murdered and a long-standing drought of hope in the disputed region, India and Pakistan are starting a hesitant peace process • Militant School: An exclusive look inside the training camps that mold young men into guerrilla martyrs for Islam • Essay: Remembering one of the "disappeared" THE PHILIPPINES: Behind the Throne The military played kingmaker for Arroyo. Is she beholden? CHINA: Keepers of the Flame A puzzling protest sparks discord in Falun Gong's rank and file INDONESIA: The Lord is with Them An apparition of Christ becomes a reflection of troubled times TRAVEL WATCH: Masssaged and Masqued in the New Hawaii

That's the good news: the tectonic plates that have locked Kashmir into stagnation, decline and death seem to be shifting. For the first time, the people who actually live there are being consulted, albeit unofficially. In a bid to get peace talks under way, India has said that it is ready to let some of the self-appointed political leaders of the separatist cause known as the All Parties Hurriyat Conference travel to Pakistan to meet with militant leaders and Pakistani officials.

The less-than-encouraging news is that the peace moves are still highly tentative. No one even dares to talk about issues of substance—Who will get Kashmir? Will Kashmiris get to vote on the final decision?—and even an outline of a settlement is far away. The undeniably bad news: extremists on both sides have the power to literally blow the peace process to bits. Some are trying, with grenade attacks, suicide missions and bombs.

But the breakthrough—including Kashmiris themselves in the process—amounts to the first genuine step forward since 1972, when Pakistan and India signed the Simla agreement that turned the Line of Control into their unofficial temporary border. What's needed now are cool heads, compromise and logic, especially considering that India and Pakistan are the world's newest nuclear powers. Kashmir's own people are demanding to be heard, and many of their voices are far less strident than in the past. "We have to forget the bitter yesterday and find a permanent solution. We can no longer afford to live in tension," says Abdul Ghani Bhat, the chairman of the Hurriyat Conference. "There is no alternative other than talking, talking, talking." Other voices are still obstinate. "Dialogue delivers nothing," says self-styled General Abdullah, 43, chief of the pro-Pakistan Islamic militant group Jamiatul Mujahideen. "India is a pain for us. We want to get rid of that pain. Our mission is to fight. Whether we succeed or die, either way we are satisfied." The main question is whether the years of violence and antagonism are an impetus to working out a solution, or the highest hurdle. "This can eventually work toward an endgame," says Amitabh Mattoo, a Kashmir analyst at India's Jawaharlal Nehru University. "But it is a huge challenge and it is not going to be easy."

No one ever said the process would be a snap. The heart of the argument is as old as these two nations: Who should own Kashmir: India or Pakistan? During the 1947 partition, Kashmir was left unresolved. But its Hindu maharajah hurriedly ceded his kingdom to India when the new nation of Pakistan sent troops to occupy it. They were pushed back by India roughly to the point now known as the Line of Control, splitting the territory unevenly—with about two-thirds going to India and the remainder to Pakistan.

Legally, the issue remains frozen in the mid-20th century, but no real remedy can ignore the bloody history since. That means a range of solutions will have to be considered. Instead of going to one country or the other, can Kashmir remain permanently divided along the present lines, its boundary perhaps reshaped a little to show that each side can concede territory? Or should it become an independent or semi-autonomous state with loose links to its two mighty neighbors?

Those are the basic issues that are not yet being discussed. Instead, like wary boxers in the early rounds, India and Pakistan are circling and testing each other. At the top are two very different men: Indian Prime Minister Atal Behari Vajpayee, who at 76 is one of the country's most experienced and respected politicians, and Pakistan's military ruler General Pervez Musharraf, 58, who wants to restore his nation's international credibility and, even more important, its severely challenged internal stability. They each know this is likely to be their last term in office and both want a Kashmir settlement—or at least an outline of one—to be their legacy.

India began the thaw, with a plan worked out between Vajpayee and a formerly obscure Indian bureaucrat, Brajesh Mishra, a 72-year-old chain-smoker from the Prime Minister's home state of Madhya Pradesh in central India. A former ambassador to China, Mishra is now the Prime Minister's most trusted adviser, his Principal Secretary and his National Security chief. Rivals describe him as the second-most powerful man in India. In 1999, Mishra overturned Indian Home Minister Lal Krishna Advani's threatened "hot pursuit" policy in Kashmir, which would have involved crossing the Line of Control and striking insurgents in Pakistani territory. Usurping control over Kashmir, he launched Operation Break Ice, through which India made secret overtures to the Hurriyat leaders in Srinagar and Kashmiri insurgents inside India and Pakistan, often through contacts in the Middle East. Mishra insisted that intelligence agencies brief him directly on all operations in Kashmir. He sidelined Kashmir's top elected official, Chief Minister Farooq Abdullah, a figure whose political power rests more on his late father Sheikh Abdullah's reputation as a Kashmiri patriot than on popular support.

Six months ago success seemed at hand. A faction of the Hizbul Mujahedin, the biggest and most important Kashmiri militant group, emerged from the mountains for ceasefire talks. But Islamabad was caught off-guard and the group's Pakistan-based leaders sabotaged the initiative by demanding a seat at the talks for Pakistan, a condition the Indians would not accept.

Last November, Vajpayee launched another initiative by announcing a unilateral ceasefire in Kashmir during the Muslim holy month of Ramadan, which he extended for another month at the end of December. Pakistan responded by halting its artillery attacks along the Line of Control and suggested tripartite negotiations involving India, Pakistan and Kashmiri representatives. It also announced the withdrawal of some military units. With these careful, calibrated moves—encouraged and supported by the international community—the prospect of Kashmir settlement talks between Islamabad's military regime and the New Delhi government improved. India's decision to allow the Hurriyat leaders to fly to Pakistan to talk to the fanatical militants showed that New Delhi was looking for a credible political solution, although it has still not issued travel documents to the extremists in the group. Last week, when India celebrated its 51st year as a republic, Vajpayee's cabinet announced that the ceasefire will continue for another month.

Vajpayee can probably swing public opinion behind his Kashmir initiative. Not only is he popular, but his Bharatiya Janata Party is the party of the Hindu right. If anyone has the credibility to sell Indian Hindus a compromise with both Muslim Pakistan and the predominantly Muslim Kashmiris, it is Vajpayee.

Pakistan's Musharraf has a much tougher job. So far, the general has made encouraging noises about a dialogue with India, but his government still gives active support to more than a dozen mujahedin groups fighting in Kashmir. The Jihadis, as these zealots are known, are backed by the Pakistani army and the country's religious right. These groups, which have a good deal of leverage over Musharraf, threaten not only a possible Kashmir peace but Pakistan's own stability. "The Pakistani government is in a stituation where it supports jihadi groups," says a Western diplomat in Islamabad. "They have built a fundamentalist fifth column and if they do a deal [with India on Kashmir], all these groups could presumably go crazy." The militants, moreover, are central to Pakistan's traditional foreign policy of keeping the Kashmir issue alive and urgent, which allows Islamabad to keep the pressure on India. "Pakistan wants to extend the olive branch and also carry a gun," says Rifaat Hussain, a defense analyst at Islamabad's Quaid-I-Azam University. "Why should India talk if the situation is normal?"

A deal would be advantageous to both Pakistan and India. Peace could liberate Pakistan from its seemingly inexorable decline, made worse by India's successful diplomatic campaign to brand it a rogue terrorism-sponsoring nuclear state. With Pakistan's institutions struggling or discredited, its politicians suspect and rejected, its economy collapsing and its army no longer a viable substitute for civilian government, one doesn't have to stretch too far to describe it as a failing state. Time is running out for Musharraf, who must step down at the end of next year, according to a Supreme Court ruling. He faces a host of pressing domestic issues and wants to arrive at a solution to Kashmir to remove doubts about his performance as Pakistan's ruler. "He is desperate not to be seen as the person who wrecked prospects for an Indo-Pakistan dialogue," says Hussain, the defense analyst. "This can give him tremendous legitimacy." Former Foreign Secretary Niaz Naik, once a behind-the-scenes negotiator for ousted Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif, says Musharraf is the best person for India to deal with. "Under a civilian government you cannot convince all constituencies," he says.

For India, the human and material cost of the insurgency—nearly 400,000 troops and border police are on permanent patrol—is an unwanted burden and a blemish on its international image. Also at stake is India's drive for a permanent United Nations Security Council seat. "India is willing and ready," Vajpayee announced in a written message to India's people on New Year's Eve, "to seek a lasting solution to the Kashmir problem."

Both countries insist that what's needed is a show of sincerity and flexibility—not a premature discussion of how to solve the knotty issues. "If we start by contemplating final settlements, we are liable to come to the conclusion that nothing is possible," says Pakistan's Foreign Minister Abdul Sattar. "For the time being, one is best advised not to think of a final outcome."

For the war-weary Kashmiris in Srinagar, even a little waiting may be too much. Tired and suspicious, they are caught once again helplessly in the middle. They mostly dislike India, but have no great love for Pakistan either. Too many of their sons have died. "Just let us find a way to end all this," says Ghulam Mohammad Khan, a Srinagar businessman. "We have had enough." India and Pakistan's twin ceasefires along the Line of Control have brought some joy and a glimpse of what the future might hold. For the first time in 10 years, villagers on either side of the Line of Control at Keil began fraternizing across the small strip of river between them. The Indian and Pakistani troops who had kept them apart looked on impassively. For the moment, their guns remain silent.

With reporting by Hannah Bloch and Syed Talat Hussain/Islamabad, Meenakshi Ganguly/Srinagar, Ghulam Hasnain/Muzaffarabad, Yusuf Jameel/Jammu and Sankarshan Thakur/New Delhi

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