Rashid AliJanuary 2, 2026 05:25 PM IST First published on: Jan 2, 2026 at 05:25 PM ISTIt is rare to claim a city that is not native to you, and rarer still to feel at home in a city that does not align with your vision of the world. Cities, like people, sometimes demand ideological compatibility. Jammu is such a city for me. I inhabit it without ever fully possessing it, and the city is contumacious enough not to develop affinity with me. Often described as the “city of temples”, Jammu carries a template that lacks perspicacity.My first encounter with Jammu was in 2005, when I came here to shoot a documentary film. Even then, the city barely registered as a site of aspiration. It still does not. I left without feeling anything special about it. When I returned years later, in 2014, Jammu began unfolding itself. I noticed two distinct strands shaping Jammu’s identity: One rummaged in the Dogri language, and the other was an eternal search for a Dogra pride. Jammu chose pride over language. It is rare for a culture to retain a martial vocabulary while allowing its linguistic inheritance to recede. In that choice, I began to understand Jammu — its assertion as well as its retreat. AdvertisementJammu’s politics remains deeply reactive to what unfolds in the Kashmir Valley. The city seems to define itself not through its own internal coherences or incoherences but in constant relation to Kashmir. This dependence became most visible during the abrogation of Article 370. Jammu overwhelmingly supported the move, interpreting it as long-delayed justice, national integration and political vindication. At the same time, the city appeared unsettled by the consequences of that very decision. There was celebration, but there was unease as well. Jammu exists in a perpetual phase of liminality.My relationship with Jammu now spans nearly 20 years. I remember comparing it to my native Patna, where I was born and raised. At the time, the comparison felt obvious and justified. In retrospect, it feels immature — perhaps even arrogant. Or perhaps I simply lacked the patience to understand a city shaped by prolonged uncertainty and the shadow of conflict. Cities like Jammu do not reveal themselves easily. They demand endurance rather than instant admiration.Also Read | From a birthday party in Bareilly, a question about ‘Viksit Bharat’ that should haunt usOver time, Jammu became my professional terrain. For the last 12 years, I have lived and worked here, and yet I remain only partially present. The city accommodates me, but it does not quite absorb me. There is an emotional distance that persists, subtle but unmistakable. The students I taught were cordial, respectful, even warm, but never intimate. I was never invited into their personal celebrations, their festivals, their family rituals. Even now, I am only allowed to teach but not to critique and definitely not to belong.AdvertisementThis caginess became more visible after the abrogation of Article 370, when migrant workers demanded recognition and inclusion in Jammu. The city responded with resistance and protest. The reaction revealed a deeper anxiety. Jammu aligns itself strongly with New Delhi’s policies, yet it resists sharing its sense of ownership with newcomers. The promise of integration appears selective. Inclusion, here, is conditional. It is extended upward toward power, but withheld horizontally from those who arrive without privilege.most readAnd yet, despite all this, I feel a profound longing for Jammu. The city grounded me intellectually. It forced me to confront a conflict-ridden region without the comfort of easy binaries. Jammu compelled me to read, listen, and think across positions that refused moral simplicity. It taught me the discipline of discomfort. In its silences and hesitations, it educated me more deeply than cities that announce themselves with confidence.In many ways, Jammu reminds me of Aab-e-Gum (Lost Water), Mushtaq Yusufi’s satirical masterpiece soaked in unspoken loss. Writing from the experience of migration between Kanpur and Karachi, Yusufi treats nostalgia as a dangerous indulgence. It roots you in primordial attachments while uprooting you from aspirational horizons. Jammu performs a similar affective operation. It holds you in a state of suspension, denying both full belonging and a clean departure.Ali teaches Media Studies at the Central University of Jammu