On a sombre morning in March 1990, Siddhartha Gigoo, then a teenager of 16, along with his younger sister Henna and a neighbouring family left their home in Kashmir in a truck. Unbeknownst to them, this journey marked the beginning of what was to be a long exile, for their home wasn’t safe anymore. Thirty-four years after the exodus, Gigoo chronicles his experience of flight from Kashmir and an entire youth spent in exile in A Long Season of Ashes. It reminds me of a poignant poem “Home” by Warsan Shire, a Somali-British writer encapsulating the agony of refugees and the plight of marginalised communities forced to leave behind everything they know and love.

No one leaves home unless home is the mouth of a shark.
You only run for the border when you see the whole city running as well.
The boy you went to school with, who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory, is holding a gun bigger than his body.
You only leave home when home won’t let you stay.
No one would leave home unless home chased you.

No one puts their children in a boat, unless the water is safer than the land.
No one would choose days and nights in the stomach of a truck, unless
the miles travelled meant something more than journey.

The picturesque Kashmir that we once saw in the romanticised backdrop of Bollywood movies from the 1960s and ’70s has undergone a tragic metamorphosis. The beautiful valleys which were once touted as heaven on Earth turned into a nightmare for Kashmiri Pandits in the aftermath of 1990 as Hizbul Mujahideen militants warned all non-Muslims to leave Kashmir within 36 hours or face death. Several Kashmiri Pandits were killed, and about half a million left Kashmir to take refuge in Jammu, Delhi and other parts of country.

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A life in exile

This memoir consists of Siddhartha Gigoo’s diary entries and personal letters. As personal as this book is, it also carries the collective experiences of many Kashmiri Pandits who lived and are still living in exile.

As I read through the author’s description of the squalid camps of Jammu, I felt like a helpless spectator, feeling the weight of despair and longing that hung heavy in the air. A camp dweller called the place they were trapped in “camp of grief”. In these cramped living spaces, time stands still and memories, homes, and relationships fade into oblivion as the relentless battle for basic necessities has to be waged. Some still live in these abysmal situations and hope to return home, while others are resigned to their fate.

Gigoo’s memoir highlights the far-reaching psychological toll of forced displacement. The loss they experienced wasn’t only of assets and concrete homes, but also of intangibles like language and and a happy future. It is heartbreaking to read through the author's recollection of this tragic time. It not deepened my understanding of the plight of the exiled Kashmiri Pandits, but also made me conscious of my own privileges. By the last page, I was reminded of the human cost of conflict and the importance of making space for voices that go unheard.

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The continuum of time

The legacy of exile, as Gigoo eloquently explores, is one that transcends generations. His grandparents longed to return to their homeland, holding on to whatever fading memories they had. His own generation and that of his parents live in a strange limbo between a happy, peaceful past and an uncertain present. It is the third generation that is born in exile with strained memories and an unreachable belief of home that will struggle to understand their fractured identity.

The way in which the author weaves together personal anecdotes with broader socio-political commentary underscores the need for belonging and heritage. It struck a chord with me as I reflected on my own roots and had a moment of introspection on the importance of understanding our past in shaping our present and future, as I considered the ways in which my own family history has influenced my identity and perspective on the world.

Kashmir has had different meanings and purposes for different people. For some it is an unfinished business of liberation, and for others, a bejewelled crown. Some wait in the valleys in the hope of better days, some long in exile for the awaited return. For some, it remains a contest for power. However, Gigoo says, “It is humanity that could restore hope and happiness in the hearts of people and make Kashmir a peaceful place once again. It should be salvaged before it is too late to even know that it ever existed.”

A Long Season of Ashes: A Memoir, Siddhartha Gigoo, Penguin India.