We've got fun and games...and routine police harassment.
Once again, the law has taken its own (murky and dubious) course, and once again, the ‘collective conscious of the revenge-seeking society’ has been satisfied—if it can ever be satisfied! Yakub’s body, like Afzal Guru’s, lies cold under the six feet of earth called the Indian justice system. And there on the naked streets, we have the Hindutva brigade celebrating the hanging of a Muslim body, singing their ancient anthem: “Na Koi Marta Hai, Na Koi Maarta Hai [No one dies, no one kills].”
The infamous “collective conscience of the [Indian] society”, like criminal syndicates the world over, has now become a notorious entity. Its hunger for blood is never satiated. As my friend puts it, “Collective conscience na hovi koi chudail hogi. Kitna khoon piyegi? [Is this a collective conscience or a witch? How much blood will she drink?]”
Now, some of us already know—and some of us dread to believe—this witch is always running after biryani-eating children called Muslims. Such is the terror of hers that every time a Muslim child pesters his mother she warns him, “Beta so ja, warna collective conscience aa jayegi. [Sleep now, kid, or the collective conscience will take you away.]”
After Yakub was snatched away by this notorious witch, some nincompoops were seen singing paeans to the Supreme Court of India on gut-wrenching shit masquerading as news channels.
“Where else would you find Mr. Justice staying awake till late night without having a cup of coffee?” said an assholish panelist. Of course, you don’t take coffee before committing a judicial murder, else you will throw it up immediately afterwards.
“What a verdict! This is the beauty of our justice system. You have doors of judiciary open for 24 hours”, said a Muslim former jurist. Of course, you could not afford to speak otherwise, lest this beast of the beauty beat sedition out of your ass, like they did to Owasi and Salman Khan. If we ignore the moral vulgarity of your “What a verdict!” quip, it sounds more like T20 match commentary, “What a shot! The noose tightens around the neck, another Six!”
“We welcome this judgment. Today, the Supreme Court has sent a very strong signal. Whosoever commits acts of terrorism will be hanged to death”. Of course, Babu Bajrangi is an anti-amnesia ayurvedic churan and Maya Kodani is the name of a Japanese company that manufactures memory-boosting tonics.
In Kashmir, the government is on a grand mission and working harder than NASA scientists to achieve its objectives. It wants to turn Kashmir into a genuine Republic of Police State (ROPS) as soon as possible. For this, it has launched a number of policies.
If a young Kashmiri is travelling in a car accompanied by a female—who can be his mother, daughter, sister, wife, colleague or just a friend—for example, the men in uniform will not ask for his identity card but ask in a rather peculiar tone, “Who is the lady in your car?” Then they will take turns to walk up to the car door and have a close glance at the woman to see if her hands are really nervous at their sight.
If you tell them, “She is my wife,” they would like to send greetings to your father-in-law and will ask for his phone number.
If you tell them, “She is my sister,” they would like to ask your father if he could really produce two kids.
If you tell them, “She is my friend,” they would like to know why the hell she is your friend.
If you tell them, “She is my girlfriend,” they will be pissed off. And then may the Taliban save you!
Another people-friendly policy in the ROPS is called multi-tasking engagement. For example, the state deploys small ‘naka’ [cordon] parties composed of police and counter-insurgency STF—“Tass Force”, in the local parlance—on all the roads, big and small, which randomly stop people and vehicles throughout the day, and ask them rapid-fire questions.
The multi-tasking part in this whole engagement is that they don two roles: that of a cop and a traffic police. They check your identity card as well as your driving license. They see to it that you have your helmet on your head as well as that you don’t have anything else inside that helmet. And like that famous show Who Wants To Be a Millionaire, you also get options to choose from, such as between calling them Sir/Jinab and watching their nostrils huff, or between producing all your documents quickly and watching their nostrils huff, or between asking for reasons for their misbehavior and walking away unharmed.
This engagement is so popular at present that almost the entire population of Kashmir is playing it every day on the roads with the generous and warm-hearted officials of the ROPS. If you are lucky enough, you get to play this game a number of times during a single day with different players at different places. Although you get to see different temperaments and different nostrils, the rules of engagement remain the same everywhere.
Yet another generous policy is the pre-emptive swoop. This policy has been launched particularly in the post-2008 period to stop people from harming their voice chords. As soon as people gather at the press colony in Srinagar or in any other place to raise their voice, they are asked to go home. If they do not relent they are bundled into a van and taken away to their second home: the police station.
The instruments of pre-emptive swoop down are luminous metallic cans, sleek oak gun butts, solid five-fingered hands, and wagging tongues. As they say, the law is equal for all, hence these instruments of ROPS are used indiscriminately and everyone is treated equally, sufficiently, and immediately with them, whether they are daily wagers, teacher’s associations, differently-abled people, women’s organizations, student bodies, or any damn living Kashmiri.
Welcome to the Republic of Police State.
