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The mourning and outpouring of grief by thousands of supporters of late Tamil Nadu Chief Minister J Jayalalithaa has striking parallels with the death of iconic Kashmiri leader and founder of the National Conference, Sheikh Muhammad Abdullah.
Like Jayalalithaa, Sheikh, who was born in 1903, ruled the hearts and minds of his followers and supporters.
Both these leaders were accused of corruption during their rule, but that did not matter to their supporters, in whose eyes the two could do no wrong.
The late Sheikh and Jayalalithaa gradually became more than just popular political leaders. And finally, the two came to be seen as some kind of superhumans who could not die.
Like the late Tamil Nadu CM, Sheikh remained in a critical state of health for many months before he passed away on 8 September 1982. Rumours of his death spread many times during his illness, as they did in the case of Jayalalithaa.
Just like her followers, the supporters of the Kashmiri politician ridiculed, abused and even roughed up anyone who said that he had passed away. Hours before his death was officially confirmed, rumours had spread like wildfire saying that he was no more. People in the summer capital of Jammu and Kashmir sacrificed sheep in hundreds as devotional offerings to disprove the news of Sheikh's death.
Markets closed, traffic stopped, Kashmiris came out on the roads. Thousands throughout the Valley waited with bated breath to know the latest on the Sheikh's health.
When the news about his death was officially confirmed in the evening, an unprecedented gloom descended on Kashmir.
Wailing, weeping and beating their chests, men, women and children filed passed Sheikh’s body, which was kept in the Polo Ground in Srinagar as thousands came for the last glimpse of their beloved leader. Exactly what was seen on Tuesday in Chennai.
The then President, Gyani Zail Singh, and the Prime Minister, Indira Gandhi, rushed to Srinagar to attend Sheikh's funeral.
Wrapped in the national flag, the Kashmiri stalwart’s body was carried in a funeral procession that took over eight hours to cover a distance of around 10 km.
Senior journalist Zafar Meraj, who did a running commentary on radio on the funeral procession, recalls: "There was no television those days in Kashmir, and the only means of public broadcast was radio. It was for the first time that a running commentary was done on any funeral procession in Kashmir.”
Four mourners died during the stampede, while scores fainted and were given first aid to revive them.
"Politics seemed to have come to an abrupt halt because the motor and engine that had driven Kashmir's politics for 50 years had suddenly stopped. Today, the grave of the late leader is guarded and yet there is no doubt that nobody has since enjoyed the kind of public adoration and reverence that Sheikh did," said Abdul Majid Bhat, a resident of Srinagar.
As images of thousands of people paying their last respects to J Jayalalithaa are aired on television news channels, Kashmiri old-timers can’t help remembering what they had seen in 1982.
As iconic leaders unlikely to be matched by anyone in near future, the deaths of Jayalalithaa and Sheikh will remain etched in public memory for many years.
(The article has been published in an arrangement with IANS.)
(Sheikh Qayoom can be contacted at sheikh.abdul@ians.com)
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