The bend that broke the pattern
On June 21st, as the world observed International Yoga Day, a quiet but powerful transformation unfolded across Jammu & Kashmir. In a scene that would have seemed improbable a decade ago, leaders from the National Conference (NC)—once vocal critics of the Bharatiya Janata Party’s (BJP) cultural initiatives—were seen performing yoga alongside BJP workers. The same yoga mats that once symbolized ideological division now bore witness to a shared civic ritual. This moment, subtle yet profound, reflected not just a shift in political optics but a deeper evolution in the region’s socio-political fabric.
Social media, with its unrelenting memory, reminded us of a time when BJP’s Kashmir cadre was mocked for their participation in Yoga Day. One particularly biting post from those early years featured a photograph of BJP workers with the caption: “Ye Sab Paapi Pait Ka Slawaal Hai, Warna Yoga Kya Aur Yogi Kaun?” —a sarcastic jab at what was perceived as opportunistic symbolism. Yet, this year, the very voices that once ridiculed the event were seen embracing it. Ministers, MLAs, and party workers from across the aisle joined in, not just as participants but as willing endorsers of a practice once dismissed as ideological theater.
This shift seems to echo the ancient wisdom of Chanakya: “If you cannot change the rule, follow the rule, reach the top, and change the rule.” Whether this is a case of ideological convergence or political pragmatism, it marks a significant recalibration of public posturing in Kashmir. The BJP, once isolated in its cultural assertions, now finds its motifs mirrored by erstwhile adversaries. It is a moment that underscores the power of democratic processes to reshape narratives and bridge divides.
The decision by the Election Commission of India to conduct assembly elections last year played a pivotal role in enabling this transformation. After years of political vacuum, the elections allowed regional parties to re-engage with the electorate, recalibrate their strategies, and reclaim their space in the public discourse. Without this democratic reset, the BJP might still have been the lone torchbearer of Yoga Day in Kashmir, facing the same old criticism. Instead, the electoral process has fostered a new political grammar—one that allows for both dissent and dialogue, tradition and transformation.
Yet, as we witness this moment of symbolic unity, we are also compelled to revisit the ghosts of 1987. The rigged assembly elections of that year remain a dark chapter in Kashmir’s political history. The Muslim United Front (MUF), a coalition that included Syed Mohammed Yusuf Shah—later known as Syed Salahuddin—was poised for significant electoral gains. But the alleged manipulation of results shattered public faith in democracy. The consequences were devastating. Yusuf Shah, once a popular Islamic scholar and preacher whose Friday sermons at Srinagar’s Exhibition Grounds drew throngs of youth, abandoned the ballot for the bullet. He crossed the Line of Control and became the supreme commander of Hizbul Mujahideen. In one of his later speeches, Salahuddin declared, “We will turn the valley into a graveyard for Indian forces,” vowing to block any peaceful resolution to the Kashmir conflict.
His transformation from a political candidate to a militant leader was not born of ideology alone—it was the product of a broken promise, a stolen mandate.
The story of Syed Ali Shah Geelani offers a parallel, equally poignant. A staunch advocate for Kashmir’s accession to Pakistan, Geelani never wavered in his stance, even as the political winds shifted around him. In his speeches, such as the one delivered at the Azadi Conference in Delhi in 2010, he spoke of the “betrayal of the Kashmiri people” and the “moral bankruptcy of Indian democracy” in the Valley
His unwavering commitment to the cause earned him both reverence and revulsion. One can only imagine an alternate history where Geelani, instead of being under house arrest, stood on the dais during the August 15th parade, saluting the national flag and singing the national anthem alongside police officers and political leaders.
These counterfactuals are not mere flights of fancy. They are reminders of how a single misstep—like the rigging of the 1987 elections—can alter the course of history. Had those elections been free and fair, Yusuf Shah might have been a minister in the state government, and the streets of Srinagar might have echoed with slogans of governance rather than gunfire. The Jhelum might have flowed with poetry and progress, not blood.
Today, as yoga unites former rivals, the central government must recognize the opportunity at hand. Restoring statehood to Jammu & Kashmir is not just a constitutional obligation—it is a moral imperative. The Union Territory administration must also prioritize Panchayat elections to deepen democratic engagement at the grassroots. Delay risks reigniting the embers of alienation that have only just begun to cool.
From ridicule to reflection, from conflict to cautious cooperation, the journey of Yoga Day in Kashmir mirrors the region’s broader political evolution. It reminds us that history is not just a chronicle of what was—but a canvas of what could have been, and what still might be. In the quiet discipline of yoga, there is a lesson for all of us: that healing begins with breath, and peace begins with presence.
