In the blurring of the border and the recurrent CFV, the political class in both countries draws the body politic of the nation by manufacturing consent: the creation of and fomenting emotion against a common enemy. All this for domestic electoral gains. However, this enmity, which is a product of modern nationalism, is “spatio-temporally contingent.” This means that when Pakistanis and Indians meet one another beyond South Asian borders, the need for economic coexistence trumps enmity exhibited at home.
Undertaking a journey on both sides of the LoC, Jacob’s narrative and his interactions with high-ranking military personnel reveal that, in pursuing the desire for power and statecraft, interests precede values. The lives of people in the Behroti village of Poonch district in the Jammu region are the worst manifestation of the creation of modern states and the issues of territorial sovereignty, identity and nationalism that come with its creation. For residents of this village, there are three entities: Pakistan on one side, India on the other and themselves caught in the middle. “Living in the village is like walking on broken glass every time you step out of your house,” writes Jacob with compassion and empathy.
While at one point the book appears to be a nuanced detailing of the tragedies and ordinariness of daily life on the LoC amidst the CFV, on the other, it is clearly a long-form political commentary on concepts such as identity, nationality, sovereignty and borders through a narrative built around the pursuing of national interest by both Pakistan and India. “An empty phrase,” scathingly writes Jacob, “national interest has no content in it and is subject to a variety of factors and invoked by interested parties depending on what they need to justify.”
The book is compelling and layered, giving insight into the making of the modern nation-states. However, while I agree with most issues raised by the author, a certain discomfort comes with his limited understanding of the term ‘Hindustan’, which he does not clearly spell out. One can infer that Jacob prefers using ‘India’ over the word ‘Hindustan’. His conscious distancing from using the latter term is evident when he calls it, “a term I intensely dislike.” This could be a result of his misunderstanding of the term, which, to my understanding, has territorial significance, implying a well-defined geographical area and not a religious identity.
For convenience of executing their nasty divisive policy, the British constructed a homogenous Hindu identity as opposed to a homogenous Muslim identity, emphasising political and religious overtones. As an academic, Jacob can deconstruct and historicise the term instead of exhibiting staunch dislike and pedalling the Indian right-wing narrative that equates Hindustan with the Hindus as a religious group.
The anecdotes running through the book offer a humanistic approach towards understanding the predicament of the ‘Other’ across the LoC that “marks the failure of both the nations”, while at the same time it is critical of the bellicose political narrative that fuels war and keeps the civilian masses on tenterhooks.
The reviewer is a Delhi-based journalist specialising in Pakistan-India relations and Kashmir
The Line of Control:
Travelling with the Indian
and Pakistani Armies
By Happymon Jacob
Penguin, India
ISBN: 978-0670091270
288pp.
Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, January 13th, 2019