Dreams die young: How J&K's nightmare changed Omar

For several years Omar Abdullah could do no wrong. Now, he keeps looking over his shoulders to check if he is doing anything wrong. When he took over, at age 38, as Kashmir’s youngest Chief Minister on a cold January morning in 2009, he came in like a whiff of fresh air in a state used to stale cynicism, violence, and political betrayal. Between then and now, Kashmir has been through hell and so has its Chief Minister. The change in Omar is difficult to miss for anyone who met him three years ago. He still looks young, and keeps fit by jogging. But something has changed. I was meeting him for the first time after he became Chief Minister. I can hardly claim to know him well as my meetings with him in the past have been few and far between. Also I have interacted with him only at the professional level. [caption id=“attachment_18381” align=“alignleft” width=“380” caption="(File) A young Omar Abdullah, wearing a garland, is flanked by his supporters as he files his nomination papers for the assembly elections in Srinagar on 4 September 2002. Fayaz Kabli/Reuters"]  [/caption] But the difference in Omar is so perceptible that it’s hard not to comment on it. The near-innocent idealism of 2009 has been replaced with a more pragmatic, grounded-in-reality Omar. He comes across less as a promising agent of change and more as a battle-scarred war veteran. Nothing can be said off-the-cuff. He weighs everything he says. “Everything is a fine balancing act here. One is constantly walking the tightrope trying to balance communities, religions, regions and aspirations of people from different parts of the state.” There is a kind of a weariness about him which makes him look almost resigned to the enormity of the task he faces as Chief Minister of a province which remains one of the most volatile trouble spots in the world. “The events of last year (when more than 100 people were killed in violent protests and police action) have affected me deeply on a personal level. I am only realising now the deep-rooted effect of what happened last year,” he says by way of explanation. His reputation never recovered much after that fumbled response to stone-throwing mobs. Omar says it’s difficult for him to quantify how he has changed since the events of last year. But he denies that he is more resigned to fate now or that he has become a cynic and cares less about things now. “The day that happens I will not be here. If I cared less I would be far more unaffected. Some people say I care too much and take everything too personally. That’s the way I am. I can’t remain unaffected.” So how has he changed? “Maybe I have become more fatalistic. Like earlier I would have planned a year ahead, maybe six months ahead. Now I don’t plan for more than a week ahead at a time.” One of the many things Omar has learnt in the last couple of years is that nothing sits heavier on your credibility than the weight of unrealistic expectations. “I am glad things are a bit more manageable now. I don’t want to go back to a time again when I raised unrealistic expectations. I now try and deliver what is possible rather than what is ideal.” But while it is fine to be pragmatic and seeped in reality, Omar needs to remember that people voted not for a political veteran in the 2009 Assembly elections but for a young man with stars in his eyes and promises on his lips. It is that young man who seems to have gone missing in the tumultuous aftermath of last year’s violence in the valley. With his youthful energy, success also came easy to him and whichever way one looked at Omar he made an irresistible, winning package. Maybe I am reading too much into Omar’s current body language and his demeanour but if he has to regain his old Midas touch with the people, he needs to walk back a little in time. He still has a twinkle in his eye when he laughs and he retains his candour. A kind of obstinate boyish streak can also be discerned in the passion with which he defends his tweeting ways. His pedigree is unassailable. He comes from one of India’s best known and most powerful political families. For those who believe in identity politics – and can one really be a non-believer in the Indian context - Omar being a Muslim and that too from the troubled state of Kashmir was a double asset. His suave and sophisticated ways - indicative of right grooming and education - his good looks and modesty all combined to settle the debate even for skeptics. Omar was often touted as one of the good examples of dynastic politics. In the decade before he took over as Chief Minister, Omar remained a poster boy of national politics, first as a junior minister for foreign affairs in the Vajpayee cabinet and then as an MP who made sensitive, forceful and intelligent interventions in the Parliament. His short, but impassioned, speech in favour of secularism during the 2008 trust vote is still remembered by many for its simplicity and forthrightness. And then, riding on a popularity wave not often seen in the strife-torn Kashmir valley, Omar Abdullah became Chief Minister as head of a National Conference-Congress coalition. His fairytale story started unraveling soon after. Omar admits his honeymoon with the electorate was short lived. “I never thought it will be an easy job (Chief Minister of J& K), but now I agree with those who describe it as one of the toughest jobs in the country.” “What one says is also to be finely balanced because of the foreign policy implications involved. Everything you say and do is open to very detailed and fine interpretation.” According to Omar, coming clean with people in terms of what the government can do and what is possible in terms of delivery is very important. “We tend to tell people what they want to hear. It’s time we start telling them the truth.” He talks about some other takeaways as well from his two-and-a-half year stint as Chief Minister. “Last year’s violence and street protests in which more 100 people were killed could have been avoided had I learnt from the experience of the Amarnath land dispute. I thought it would be a one-off incident but I now realise there’s nothing like a one-off incident in Kashmir. “The scale and spread of violence really surprised us and caught us unawares. It looked rudderless and devoid of leadership but it just kept gaining momentum.” In the tumultuous aftermath of 2010’s violence in the valley, a young man with dreams about doing many things for his people has been rudely brought down to earth. Omar Abdullah on Kashmir’s violent summer Omar Abdullah talks about the challenges of taking up the “hardest job in India” and how it has affected him personally