Ikhwanis have come a full circle

The traumatic, occasionally lethal, roller-coaster ride from militancy to helping India's forces appears to have ended for many former militants in the hurly-burly of politics.

"Renegades" to militants, "friendlies" to the Indian Army and generically "Ikhwanis" to most Kashmiris, the era of a unique lot of mercenaries ended with the recent Jammu and Kashmir elections.

"Most of them have come into politics now," said an operative of India's Military Intelligence, adding that the army took a policy decision in 2000 to wind up the outfits.

Usman Majid, who was once the deputy chief commander of Ikhwanul Muslimeen, is today the honourable member of the state assembly from Bandipora.

Jamshyd Sheerazi alias Kuka Parray, his former colleague, in militancy, anti-militancy and now in politics, lost the neighbouring Sonawari constituency, which he won in 1996. The difference is that the army then ensured that Parray won that seat.

This time, voters ensured that he did not. Apparently they granted Majid victory, not because they loved him but in order to defeat another such figure from the same shadowy world, Javed Shah, along with the incumbent National Conference candidate.

The contest in Bandipora was intriguing. Not only were two "Ikhwan" men in the fray, large numbers of active militants lurk in the forests around the vast Wular lake in the area and would surely have influenced the turnout and voting patterns.

Several parts of the Valley are abuzz with talk of some Hizbul Mujahideen commanders having covertly helped some anti-National Conference candidates.

The era of militants began in late 1993, ironically in the forests around Sonawari and Bandipora. A Dogra colonel formed an informal network of allies among local militants whom the dominant Hizbul Mujahideen had antagonised.

One story has it that a female relative of Parray was raped by Hizbul men after she refused the advances of one of its commanders.

The number of such groups increased through 1994 and 1995. Liaquat Ali of Anantnag says Parray's men contacted his colleagues in the Ikhwan there to suggest that they follow their example. They first refused but then, having already decided under Hizbul pressure to give up the gun, took the plunge.

Another leading militant of that area, Ghulam Nabi Azad (not the Congress party leader of the same name), also led a large group of the Muslim Mujahideen into the army's welcoming arms. He, however, was killed right outside his heavily guarded home on the outskirts of Anantnag.

Liaquat, having taken the code name Hilal Haider, lived to tell the tale. A fortnight ago, now aged 32, he contested the Anantnag assembly seat.

It is a measure of public attitudes that, although the People's Democratic Party and the Congress party both backed him, he lost to the National Conference candidate amid a low turnout.

Conversations with common people in the area on polling day indicated that they had decided to accept the boycott call because they felt caught between the "Ikhwan" devil and the deep sea of NC corruption.

Liaquat, however, blames the army. His friends say he is bitter that they did not force voters to go to the booths. He is apparently convinced that, once there, they would have voted for him. He does not, however, talk of going back to the gun in revenge. Indeed, he speaks fervently of Kashmir's need for relief from violence.

Majid too speaks of a Congress party-led government being in Kashmir's greater interest than one led by either the PDP or the NC. That is ironic for young men who have wielded weapons both against and for India in Jammu and Kashmir.