For Kashmiris, the curse of sisyphus may be no curse at all

If Kashmiris derive purpose from the process of defiance, with only secondary concern for the outcome of this approach, then the ‘gods’ in Delhi may be condemned to watch in eternity the purposeful repetition of their struggle.

According to Greek mythology, Sisyphus, the king of Ephyra, was condemned to live eternally in service of a most fruitless task: to repeatedly push a large stone up a hill only to have it roll down each time he approached the summit.

Now that 71 years have passed since Jammu and Kashmir acceded to India on October 26, 1947, one might ask whether Kashmiris of a secessionist bent are bound by a similar fate. Is their enduring pursuit of azadi pointless or does it lead somewhere? Sisyphus’s story can be told in a number of ways, and so can that of the Kashmir issue.

The classic version of Sisyphus’s story leaves little room for the experience of happiness or purpose. Intent on punishing Sisyphus, the gods have ensured that his task is repetitive and objectively meaningless. One can be forgiven for seeing the Kashmiri struggle against the status quo primarily in such terms. Repeated attempts to shake New Delhi by any means possible – whether through peaceful protest, stone pelting, or militant violence – have achieved little. Indeed Kashmiris are as far from azadi now as they have been at any point since their struggle began in earnest in the late 1980s.

This reading presents Kashmiris as a hapless community, unable to overcome the interests of a powerful state, but also unable to extricate themselves from the futile compulsion to keep trying. While it presents Sisyphus as a hopeless and defeated man, this isn’t the only version of his story.

In a slightly tweaked version of the classic, philosopher Richard Taylor imagines a scenario in which Sisyphus does find meaning in his task. It assumes that each trip up the hill allows Sisyphus to deposit a trace of rock sediment and that he will gradually be able to erect out of these incremental deposits the structure of his dreams.

This version of the tale also finds a parallel in the Valley, especially in the rhetoric separatist leaders employ to justify their continued mobilisation of young men in support of the cause. Yasin Malik, Syed Ali Shah Geelani, and Mirwaiz Umar Farooq take every opportunity to remind their target audience that “the sacrifices of Kashmiri martyrs will not be allowed to go waste,” that Kashmiris are “duty bound” to safeguard these sacrifices, and that the whole of Kashmir is committed to taking the mission “to its logical conclusion.”

Recognising that the classic version of the myth inspires nobody, these leaders are all busy selling its more optimistic version and conveying the incremental nature of the struggle.

They promise that none of the personal sacrifices exacted by the struggle are in vain, that each apparently futile protest, hartal, and militant attack represents a small step towards building the final edifice, that unrealised wishes of yesterday will be built on today, and that today’s unfinished business will be fulfilled tomorrow.

While this more hopeful version offers the possibility of an outcome, it has a flipside: since he remains so steadfastly focused on achieving his objective, Sisyphus views as failure anything short of its successful pursuit. Until he wins, he is losing.

A third version of the tale – also presented by Richard Taylor – assumes that Sisyphus cannot get his rock to the summit, that he knows it, but that his veins are injected with a magical substance causing him to find purpose, even joy, in the tireless performance of his impossible task.

This version also finds expression in the Kashmir Valley, where the magical potion is administered in the form of everyday socialisation. When early experience tells you that your identity, your dignity, and life’s very meaning, may be found in a struggle against prevailing conditions, the pursuit of an unachievable outcome can become gratifying. In this version, Kashmiris derive purpose from the process of defiance, with only secondary concern for the outcome of this approach. Kashmiris are no longer portrayed as a vanquished lot, since the state – despite its awesome power – can control neither their hearts nor their minds.

The Indian state has demonstrated beyond doubt that it has the will and the wherewithal to deprive Kashmiris of ‘azadi’, but it has also shown itself unable to deprive Kashmiris of the ability to find meaning in its seemingly hopeless pursuit.

Sisyphus may never get his rock past the hill, but the ‘gods’ in Delhi may be condemned to watch in eternity the purposeful repetition of this enterprise. And that burden is no less Sisyphean.

This commentary originally appeared in The Wire.

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