December 2024

The recent developments in India—a fascist state in every sense—reveal a grim pattern of state-sponsored repression against the largest minority in the country. The petition to survey the revered shrine of Khwaja Moinuddin Chishti in Ajmer is not an isolated event. It is a continuation of a sinister campaign to rewrite history, erase Muslim identity, and enforce the hegemony of Hindutva ideology. From the demolition of the Babri Masjid to the recent court-mandated surveys targeting mosques and shrines, the agenda is clearly to convert every Muslim place of worship into a Hindu temple under the guise of “historical reclamation.” This is not merely the work of fringe elements—it has the tacit and overt support of India’s judiciary, its administrative machinery, and its political elite.

The horrors are not confined to paperwork and courtrooms. Just days ago, in Sambhal, Uttar Pradesh, five unarmed Muslims were shot dead in cold blood for protesting the desecration of their faith. These killings are the direct consequence of a state apparatus that has normalized violence against Muslims. The bulldozing of homes, the lynching of innocents, and the policing of everyday Muslim lives are symptoms of an India that has embraced fascism with open arms.

For us, the Kashmiri Muslims, this is not a distant threat. It is already at our doorstep. The occupying Indian state has tightened its grip on our Masajid’s, our pulpits, and even the sermons delivered by our Imams. There is a deliberate and systemic effort to control our religious institutions, to dictate the words spoken in our places of worship, and to dismantle the very foundations of our faith. The same playbook used in Ajmer and Sambhal will soon be deployed here. We hear whispers that some of our most revered Masajid’s are being falsely linked to Hindu origins—a dangerous precursor to the desecration and theft of our sacred spaces.

We must understand this for what it is: an existential threat to our religious identity, our heritage, and our roots. They aim to strip us of our faith and history. But we will not allow it. The fight for our religious/Muslim identity is not only a duty, it is an honor for us.

We have to remain vigilant, for they seek to rob us of what we hold most dear. Stand united, for division only strengthens the oppressor. And remember, no fight is greater than the fight to protect our faith, our heritage, and our collective identity.

May Allah ease the sufferings of Muslims in every corner of the world. May Allah bless Palestinians and help them to liberate their homeland from the clutches of Zionists. Aameen.

Syed Salahuddin Ahmad

UJC Chief and Supreme Commander of Hizbul Mujahideen

 

 

 

What is Happening in Doda? A Glimpse into the Smokescreen of ‘Democracy’ in Kashmir

Gowhar Bhat

Barely a month into office, the new “chief minister” (read new municipality mayor) of Jammu and Kashmir has revealed the real face of the administration by targeting independent journalism. A local news portal in Doda district recently dared to release a video report exposing how a well-known activist was booked under the draconian Public Safety Act (PSA). His “crime”? Raising public issues and criticizing the local administration for dumping garbage near his home, setting it on fire, and creating a hazardous environment for nearby residents—all this despite municipal funds meant for proper garbage disposal lying unutilized.

The PSA, termed by the Amnesty International as lawless law, has once again been weaponized—not against criminals, but against voices of dissent. This activist, whose only offense was advocating for basic rights and a cleaner environment, was swiftly labeled an “overground worker” of armed resistance groups. It’s a classic move by the occupying authorities. A readymade accusation to slap a fabricated label, weaponize fear, and silence voices.

The puppet administration’s response didn’t stop at detaining the activist. The puppet regime issued a menacing warning that many others are “on the radar,” creating a chilling effect for local residents. This surely isn’t governance they have been boasting about. It’s a systematic clampdown on dissent wherein they ensure that no voice rises above the suffocating narrative scripted in New Delhi.

Days before this incident, the very same government’s chief puppet assured journalists that his administration would uphold freedom of the press and avoid “high-handedness.” The audacity of such claims! Perhaps irony has met its ultimate grave in this occupied territory. The reality is that every shred of media freedom in Jammu and Kashmir is carefully choreographed. Journalists who refuse to toe the line are harassed, threatened, or silenced—sometimes permanently.

Some had naively hoped that the return of a local government, even one handpicked by New Delhi, might ease the oppression. But the situation on the ground paints a starkly different picture. Client politicians have no real power to intervene, even in the smallest of matters. Recently, a young man from central Kashmir was picked up from the streets without any explanation or reason. Despite frantic attempts by the local MLA to contact the concerned police station, even the Station House Officer (SHO) refused to respond and entertain him.

This is the state of affairs. A client regime in an occupied territory, parading as “democratically elected,” yet completely powerless to protect even its own loyalists. What, then, can ordinary citizens expect? The farce is obvious. These politicians are not representatives of the people. They never were. They are mere pawns, tools of occupation and their strings are pulled by forces far removed from the land they pretend to govern.

None of this is new. The use of the PSA to target activists, journalists, and students has been a well-worn tactic in the occupier’s playbook. Doda’s incident is eerily reminiscent of past crackdowns across Kashmir, where entire villages were declared “sympathetic to militants” and put under collective punishment. In 2016, after the martyrdom of Burhan Wani, mass arrests swept the region. Thousands, including minors, were detained under vague accusations. Families had no recourse, no justice, only silence. Today, that same silence is being enforced with greater efficiency. Surveillance has intensified, informants are everywhere, and fear is the currency in which this so called administration and their master’s trade.

Let us not delude ourselves into pinning hopes on these client politicians. They have, for decades, represented New Delhi’s interests in Kashmir, not the aspirations of its people. They are the ones who signed off on laws that stripped Kashmiris of their autonomy, facilitated demographic engineering, and turned a blind eye to the countless disappearances, killings, and torture that define life in our beloved homeland. To expect change from such figures is to misunderstand their role in the machinery of occupation. Change will not come through them; it will come despite them. The struggle must continue—not just against the occupier but also against its collaborators. Every form of resistance, from raising awareness to standing in solidarity with the persecuted, chips away at the facade of legitimacy they try to construct.

This incident of threatening the news portal in Doda is a microcosm of the larger battle for truth in Kashmir. It is a reminder that speaking out comes with risks, but silence comes with complicity. The journalist, the activist, the ordinary resident—all who stand against injustice in whatever way they can are the true representatives of this land. The question is not whether oppression will end. History shows that no occupying force can hold a land indefinitely. The question is how long it will take and how much more suffering must we face before the tide turns. For now, Doda’s story is just one more chapter in the ongoing saga of Kashmir’s fight for dignity, justice, and freedom. And it’s a story that must be told—loudly and boldly.

 

 

 

We Will Never Forget Lawaypora Fake Encounter, A Father’s Cries and the “Silence” of Kashmir

Syed Burhan-ud-Din

The piercing cries of a father mourning his son have a way of shaking even the most stoic of lands. And they say that “the smallest of coffins are the heaviest to carry.” On December 30, 2020, in the midst of Kashmir’s harsh winter, the heart-wrenching sobs of Mushtaq Ahmad Wani echoed through the valleys and carried with them the weight of injustice, grief, and unanswered questions. His son, 16-year-old Athar Mushtaq, was among three young men killed in what was termed an “encounter” on the outskirts of Srinagar by police and military. But to Wani or for that matter all Kashmiris, it was something more sinister, another staged tragedy, a “fake encounter,” in Kashmir’s long history of such incidents.

According to official statements from the occupying military and police, the encounter began on the evening of December 29 in Lawaypora, where the occupying military claimed they were fired upon while conducting a search operation. The next morning, after hours of gunfire, three men were declared dead. The police identified them as Athar Mushtaq, Ajaz Maqbool Ganie, and Zubair Ahmad Lone, but their affiliations to armed resistance were shrouded in ambiguity. Despite claiming the recovery of arms and ammunition, the military establishment provided no clear evidence linking the young men to any armed resistance organization.

Athar, a Class 11 student who had been preparing for his final exams, had left home that afternoon, ostensibly for errands. By evening, his phone was switched off, and his family’s desperate attempts to reach him ended in despair the next day when they learned of his death.  As news spread, Mushtaq Wani’s anguished pleas for his son’s body reverberated across social media. In a viral video, he is seen crying, begging authorities to return Athar for a proper burial. But the body was denied to him. Instead, Athar was buried by the oppressors miles away—a practice that has become disturbingly routine in Kashmir.  “How did my son become a militant in half a day?” Wani cried while his voice was breaking under the weight of disbelief. A father who had seen his son as a diligent and responsible boy now grappled with a narrative that seemed at odds with reality.

The families of the three young men vehemently rejected the allegations by the military administration. Athar’s family pointed out his spotless record with local authorities and questioned how a boy with no history of any such thing could suddenly transform into a combatant in a matter of hours. The accounts of local residents were eye opening. Eyewitnesses disputed claims of surrender opportunities being given to the young men, alleging that the firing continued unabated through the night and they did not hear any announcement or offer to lay down arms. They did not even inform their parents or summon them to the site to persuade their children to lay down arms. This was something the occupying military or the police does sometimes.

This incident came on the heels of another damning case: the Amshipora fake encounter, where three laborers were killed and falsely branded as “militants”, only for the truth to emerge later. The parallels between these two cases were hard to ignore—unarmed civilians killed under dubious circumstances, weapons conveniently “recovered,” and narratives spun to justify the unjustifiable.

The aftermath of Lawaypora also mirrored a well-worn script. The military administration swiftly branded the young men as over-ground workers or recent recruits and offered vague “evidence” while deflecting demands for accountability. For families like the Wanis, such narratives were cold comfort.

The image of Mushtaq Wani, a grieving father stripped of the right to mourn his son in his ancestral graveyard, became a symbol of the deep-seated anguish that pervades Kashmir. His cries exposed the chasm between the “official” version of events and the lived reality of Kashmiri families, who often find themselves at the mercy of opaque processes and unchecked power. The question remains: How many more fathers will have to cry for their sons before the world listens? How many more families will be denied the closure of laying their loved ones to rest? Mushtaq Wani’s cries may have shaken Kashmir, but they also serve as a stark reminder that the fight for justice in the valley is far from over.

 

 

 

 

International Day of Disabled Persons: A Cruel Irony for Kashmiris

Gazi Ehtishaam

Every year, on December 3, the world pauses to observe the International Day of Disabled Persons. Politicians, celebrities, and organizations issue heartfelt statements and champion for the inclusion and accessibility for people with disabilities. While this global chorus celebrates empathy and care, one cannot help but think about a certain group of disabled individuals—the kind who do not make it to the glossy posters or the syrupy social media campaigns.These are the disabled Kashmiris. Not disabled by nature. Not by accidents. But by design. By the brutality of the Indian military-industrial complex that thrives on breaking not just bones but spirits. This day, which ought to honor the resilience of the disabled, becomes a dark satire for those whose limbs, dignity, and freedom were systematically stolen in Kashmir. Even as I write, the Indian army in Kishtwar has brutally tortured four civilians some of whom according a news report were not able to walk. Sajad Ahmad, Abdul Kabir, Mushtaq Ahmad and Mehraj-ud-Din were abducted on November 20. After the family members of all these victims were taking them towards hospital for treatment, they were stopped by the army midway and not allowed to move in an attempt to cover their crimes.

The haunting image of Qalandar Khatana on the cover of the report Torture: Indian State’s Instrument of Control in Indian-administered Kashmir is a stark reminder of atrocities that will likely never find a place in protests across Western or European countries. A man with both his legs severed, stares out—a silent indictment of a system that thrives on pain. His story is one of thousands buried under the indifference of powerful global institutions, including the very United Nations General Assembly that declared this noble day back in 1992.

What are the odds that someone sitting in Geneva or New York will read the stories of torture victims whose bodies were maimed in Papa-2, Harinavas or Cargo? Will they shed a tear for the men whose bodies were found dumped or disfigured beyond recognition? Unlikely. After all, such tales don’t fit neatly into the glossy brochures about disability rights.

Usually, when the world talks about disabled individuals, it paints them as victims of fate or tragic accidents. But in our part of the world, people are disabled systematically. Electric shocks, beatings with iron rods, and the crushing of joints have left thousands unable to walk or work here. For them, the phrase “human rights” definitely rings hollow.The infamous pellet shotguns used by Indian forces have blinded hundreds, including children. Who needs dreams when your vision has been stolen in the name of “crowd control”? Shall we send these survivors an invitation to the International Day of Disabled Persons celebrations? Perhaps we can ask the organizers to print Braille programs for the pellet-blinded teenagers from Kashmir. We can send them pictures of Hiba Nasir and Insha Mushtaq or maybe we can wheel in those who had their spines shattered in interrogation cells.

The United Nations, the self-proclaimed guardian of human rights, remains deafeningly silent about the institutionalized violence in Kashmir. While they discuss accessibility ramps and disability-inclusive policies, they fail to notice the torture chambers that churn out disabled Kashmiris by the thousands. The international community’s selective empathy is stunning. A child in Europe injured in an accident becomes the face of a disability campaign, while a Kashmiri child blinded by pellets is dismissed as collateral damage. Disability rights activists speak passionately about inclusion but rarely include voices from regions like Kashmir, where disabling a population is a state policy.

The mere mention of names like Papa-2 sends shivers down the spines of those who lived to tell the tale. Victims recount how they were hung upside down, their limbs twisted until they broke, or forced to drink their urine. Many never left those torture centers alive. The report Torture: Indian State’s Instrument of Control in Indian-administered Kashmir opens with a grim list of names—those tortured to death in 2016 alone. But torture in Kashmir isn’t bound by calendars. It is a constant. It evolves. And so does its capacity to disable lives, bodies, and futures.

Nevertheless, the International Day of Disabled Persons is a noble concept, but in the context of Kashmir, it feels like a macabre joke. Are we supposed to light a candle for those tortured into wheelchairs by the Indian military? Should the UN issue a press release commemorating the lives broken under interrogation? What about the young men whose arms were twisted out of their sockets or the women rendered infertile by sexual violence in detention? Maybe we can put them on a poster next to a slogan about “resilience and overcoming adversity.”

The truth is that the global conversation around disability is sanitized and self-serving. It is comfortable. It focuses on solutions for disabilities caused by misfortune while deliberately ignoring the disabilities caused by systemic violence and oppression. Disability, we can safely say, isn’t a personal tragedy but a weapon of war in Kashmir. It is inflicted, not suffered. It is designed to intimidate, dominate, and erase resistance. Despite all of this, there is no room for these stories in the polished narratives that surround this day.

 

 

  

World Genocide Commemoration Day: A Mockery of Humanity in Gaza

Mehvish Mushtaq

On December 9, the world will observe the World Genocide Commemoration Day, a date enshrined by the United Nations to honor the victims of genocides past and present and to reaffirm a collective commitment to prevent such horrors from recurring. However, this day does not hold any significance in a world where atrocities in Gaza unfold before our eyes, unabated, with the very institutions meant to uphold humanity’s dignity standing as silent witnesses—or worse, complicit actors. Since October 2023, Gaza has been subjected to an unrelenting assault, euphemistically labeled as a “war” but resembling a systematic annihilation of an entire population. This is not a conflict between equals. It is a colonial enterprise, executed with the ferocity of modern military technology, crushing a besieged civilian population. Gaza, an open-air prison with over two million inhabitants, half of whom are children, is continuously being bombed indiscriminately. Hospitals have been reduced to rubble. Entire families have been erased in seconds. The numbers are staggering: tens of thousands dead, countless injured, and many more displaced. But these are not just numbers—they are lives, dreams, and futures obliterated under the guise of “self-defense.” Gaza’s children, whose only crime was being born under an occupation, are buried under debris and their cries are drowned by the deafening roar of apathy from those who claim to champion human rights.

If the UN was established to ensure “never again,” then its inaction in Gaza is proof that this mantra has become a sickening lie. For decades, the UN has postured as the guardian of human dignity and on the other hand it has repeatedly demonstrated selective morality. While it churns out resolutions and statements, the people of Gaza are left wondering: where is the justice?

The United Nations today resembles a hollow edifice—an institution eroded of its credibility, propped up by lofty words that fail to translate into meaningful action. Its agencies, which should be mobilized to prevent atrocities, issue tepid condemnations or, worse, sit idly as genocide unfolds. Why does the UN fail? Because it lacks the spine to stand against powerful states and their allies. Its moral compass is swayed by the geopolitical winds, selectively pointing towards causes that serve the interests of the powerful.

The assault on Gaza is, without an iota of doubt, tragic and criminal. Targeting civilian infrastructure, cutting off essential supplies like food, water, and electricity, and employing collective punishment are war crimes under international law. Yet, the perpetrators walk free and are shielded by the political might of their allies. The International Criminal Court, too, remains conspicuously absent and it definitely tells us about a global justice system that bends for the strong and snaps for the weak.

When hospitals become graves and schools become ash, when ambulance drivers and aid workers are targeted, the question arises: how is this not genocide? The deliberate attempt to annihilate a people, to erase their culture, history, and future, meets every definition of the term. And yet, the world hesitates and is afraid to name the crime for what it is. The stark hypocrisy of international institutions lies in their selective outrage. Compare the global response to crises elsewhere: the swift action, the boycotts, the sanctions etc. In Gaza, however, the victims are not afforded the same humanity. Their suffering is minimized, their deaths are rationalized and their cries are ignored. What makes the children of Gaza less deserving of life? What makes their tears less urgent? This selective sympathy is a stain on the conscience of the global community.

On this day called World Genocide Day, we must not forget the bitter irony of the UN’s existence. This is the same institution that has failed to implement its own resolutions on Kashmir, where generations have endured a brutal occupation.

World Genocide Commemoration Day should be a day of reflection, but for the people of Gaza, it will be another day of grief. As the bombs continue to fall and the world’s indifference grows louder, one cannot help but wonder if the promise of “never again” was ever meant for them. And what of the UN? An institution, or rather a theater of inaction, where lofty speeches echo in chambers that have long ceased to matter. The world doesn’t need another day of commemoration. It needs accountability. But until that day comes, the victims of Gaza will remain a testament to the UN’s most profound failure—its betrayal of humanity itself.

 

 

 

 

How India Manipulates the Drug Narrative in Kashmir

Tanveer Baba

On November 13, two foreigners, Vipin Kumar and Love Kumar, were arrested in Srinagar’s Tengpora Bypass area with significant quantities of heroin and brown sugar. Days later, another pair—Surinder Pal Saini from Punjab and an unidentified associate—were apprehended in the 90 Feet area of the city, similarly in possession of substantial amounts of narcotics. These arrests, however, failed to make headlines in the way the Indian military administration typically orchestrates narratives involving drugs in Kashmir. The official rhetoric has long painted Pakistan as the origin point for drugs in Kashmir, alleging that the revenues generated from their sale fund armed resistance movement in the region. Now, the arrest of these Indian nationals casts a glaring shadow of doubt on such claims and raise critical questions about who truly drives the drug trade in the region and, more importantly, who benefits from it.

Kashmir, a region already suffocating under the weight of militarization, is now grappling with the specter of a burgeoning drug crisis. But unlike the Indian administration’s assertions of an external source, the reality on the ground suggests a more insidious, internally driven campaign. The arrested individuals are not shadowy figures from across the border but Indian nationals, some from Punjab—another state devastated by drug abuse. Their involvement hints at a larger, well-oiled machinery that operates with a specific agenda to destabilize Kashmiri society by targeting its youth. Drugs, in this case, are not just commodities but tools of suppression, wielded to crush any semblance of resistance against Indian rule.

This strategy is eerily reminiscent of India’s playbook in Punjab during the 1980s and 1990s. Faced with a growing separatist movement, the Indian state flooded Punjab with narcotics and weakened communities and diffused dissent. Today, Punjab is known as the drug capital of India, with countless lives lost to addiction. Could Kashmir be treading the same tragic path?

India’s use of drugs as a weapon of control in Kashmir and Punjab is not without precedent. History is filled with examples of colonizers employing similar tactics to subdue resistance and enforce subjugation.

We have read about the British Opium Wars of the 19th century. The British Empire flooded China with opium and created a crisis of addiction that hollowed out Chinese society and stifled its ability to resist colonial exploitation. In Algeria, during the French colonization, alcohol and narcotics were systematically introduced to erode the moral fabric of resistance movement. Closer to home, during India’s colonial period, the British fostered the cultivation and trade of opium in Bengal and left behind a legacy of addiction and social decay.

These historical parallels offer chilling insights into India’s current policies in Kashmir. By engineering a drug crisis, the state seeks to dismantle the region’s socio-political cohesion, make the inhabitants of this occupied territory morally bankrupt and render its people incapacitated and less capable of organized resistance.

The muted response to the arrest of these Indian nationals in Srinagar is telling. Had the suspects been of Pakistani origin, the news would have dominated headlines, bolstered by hyper-nationalistic media coverage and claims of “narco-terrorism.” But when the trail leads back to India, silence prevails. This exposes the Indian administration’s hypocrisy. The narrative of Pakistani-origin drugs funding what they call as “militancy” is a convenient smokescreen, designed to deflect attention from internal complicity and paint Kashmiris as complicit in their own suffering.

For Kashmiris, the cost of this deception is immeasurable. Generations are being lost to addiction, families torn apart, and communities fractured. Young people, who should be the torchbearers of progress and change, are instead trapped in the quicksand of substance abuse. The international community, too, bears a moral responsibility. For too long, the world has turned a blind eye to India’s colonial-style tactics in Kashmir. As the drug crisis deepens, it is important for global powers and human rights organizations to demand accountability and investigate the state’s role in fostering this epidemic.

To the youth of Kashmir, we remind you that you are the torchbearers of a struggle that countless young souls have nurtured with their lives, their dreams, and their sacrifices. This land is soaked in the blood of martyrs who envisioned a future of dignity and freedom for you, their brothers and sisters. To see you fall prey to the scourge of drugs is not just disheartening—it is a betrayal of their sacrifice, a surrender to the very forces that seek to crush your spirit. You are not mere individuals; you are the custodians of a centuries-old legacy and a nation’s hope. How can you let their sacrifices go in vain? To our esteemed religious scholars, if you cannot directly speak against the oppressor, then at least raise your voice against this epidemic that is eating away at the soul of our community. Run awareness campaigns, educate families, and remind our youth of their duty—not just to themselves but to this land, this nation, and the countless lives that depend on their strength and resilience.

 

Mithun Chakraborty’s Hate Speech and Bollywood’s Role in Fueling Anti-Muslim Sentiment

Syed Samreen

Bollywood, long considered the mirror of India’s social, cultural, and political psyche, has often played a dual role. It has more acted as a vehicle for ideological narratives than a medium of art. Over the decades, particularly in the portrayal of Kashmir, Kashmiris and Indian Muslims, it has oscillated between romanticized escapism and insidious propaganda. Recent statements by Bollywood actor Mithun Chakraborty, in which he declared “We will cut you down and throw your corpses at your lands, not in the river” directed at Indian Muslims and delivered in the presence of BJP leaders like Amit Shah, highlights how cinema and its stars are now active agents in India’s growing climate of hate.

Critical work from different research scholars highlights how Indian Muslims are frequently framed in Bollywood narratives as the “other.” Whether as exoticized symbols of communal harmony (Kabir Khan’s My Name is Khan) or as sinister threats (Kesari, Bell Bottom), these portrayals perpetuate a binary: Muslims as either “good” and subservient or “bad” and rebellious. This simplistic representation dehumanizes an entire community and makes them more susceptible to real-world violence and discrimination.

In this context, Mithun Chakraborty’s hate-filled speech is not merely an isolated incident of communal rhetoric. It is in fact the culmination of a culture of hate that Bollywood has subtly fostered over decades. That an actor, who once danced his way into the hearts of millions as the “Disco Dancer” in India now stands before BJP leaders openly advocating violence against Indian Muslims, reflects the extent to which cinema and politics have intertwined to poison public discourse.

Mithun’s words gain further weight when delivered under the watchful eyes of Amit Shah and other BJP leaders. The fact is that hate speech is not only tolerated but also rewarded in the current political climate of India, which has now slid neck-deep into fascism. This emboldens more public figures, especially those with significant influence like film stars, to echo and amplify divisive ideologies. Bollywood is no longer just a storyteller. It is a battlefield or one can say it was one from the outset. Films like The Kashmir Files etc. cater to the BJP’s agenda and rewrite history to fit a narrative of victimhood and vengeance while deepening communal divides. Mithun Chakraborty’s association with such narratives is not surprising. His speech mirrors the rhetoric seen in these films, where violence against Muslims is justified, even glorified, as a patriotic act.

For India’s 200 million Muslims, this confluence of cinema, politics, and hate speech is life-threatening. Mithun’s words are not just rhetoric—they are calls to action that embolden mobs and justify atrocities. The violence against Indian Muslims – from lynching’s and bulldozing houses to vilifying their women – has much to do with how they have been portrayed on the big screen since decades. We Kashmiris very well understand how the gross misrepresentation on big screen has real life consequences. Kashmir and its inhabitants have been so grossly misrepresented in Hindi Cinema that almost all Indians, excluding a miniscule population, have a filmy understanding of Kashmir.

 

 

 

Hinduization of Kashmir and our Responsibilities

Syed Fakhar Geelani

Post-August 5, 2019, the changes in the erstwhile state of Jammu and Kashmir have been as swift as they have been unsettling. Among them is the decision by the JKSCERT to mandate the teaching of Hindi from class 1 to class 10 in all schools. At first glance, this might seem like an innocuous step in promoting linguistic diversity. But beneath the surface, one can see the nefarious design of the occupying Indian state to uproot a community’s identity, starting with the most vital thread of all—its mother tongue.

A mother tongue, apart from being a means of communication, is also the soul of a culture. It carries the collective memory of a people, their stories, their prayers and their songs. Kashmiri, with its poetic cadence and rich literary heritage, has been the vessel of the region’s identity for centuries. To erase it would be to sever the lifeline between generations and turn what was once a vibrant culture into a relic of the past. Colonizers throughout history have understood this power. In Algeria, the French enforced their language to eradicate native identity. In every instance, language was the first battlefield, for it is through language that people think, dream, and resist. For Kashmiris, losing Kashmiri means losing the ability to speak to their own history.

As I already mentioned that the imposition of Hindi in Kashmir is not a standalone event. It is part of a broader design to paint Kashmir as “just another Indian state.” Signboards across the valley now prominently display Hindi. Government offices and public spaces increasingly use the language thereby erasing Urdu—the historical lingua franca of Kashmir—from public memory. Even religious sermons in some circles have started adopting Hindi phrases and have now normalized its presence in the most intimate spaces of Kashmiri life. What makes this linguistic colonization particularly insidious is its subtlety. It does not come with the violence of gunfire or the sound of breaking doors. It comes through textbooks, public signboards, and the coercion of cultural conformity. It creeps into classrooms, where young children are told to embrace a language that has little to do with their heritage. It seeps into the subconscious whilst presenting itself as modernity, as opportunity, until one day, a generation awakens who are unable to speak to its ancestors.

Colonial powers have always understood the role of language in consolidating control. When you erase a people’s language, you erase their ability to articulate dissent. You cut them off from their history and make them more susceptible to narratives imposed by the colonizer. In Kashmir, this process has been methodical. Now, the imposition of Hindi seeks to homogenize Kashmiris into a broader Indian identity. It is perhaps the most horrific attack on memory, identity and resistance itself.

If this trend continues, the cost will be devastating. Kashmiri children will grow up disconnected from their cultural roots. The stories of resilience and beauty that have defined the valley will fade into oblivion and get replaced by narratives that serve the interests of the occupier. The spiritual and artistic richness of Kashmiri culture, rooted in its language, will become an artifact in museums rather than a living, breathing part of everyday life.

Losing a mother tongue is, beyond any doubt, a form of cultural genocide where a nation is stripped of the tools they need to resist, to remember, and to imagine a future on their own terms. Kashmiri parents must insist on teaching their children the language of their ancestors. Writers, poets, and artists must use Kashmiri as a medium to tell the stories of their land. Communities must resist the normalization of Hindi in public and private spaces. The cheap and fake local cricket commentators who have normalized this in a disgusting manner must be discouraged.

 

 

 

Dr. Saifullah Mir: A Legacy of Sacrifice and Resistance

Muhammad Shahbaz

Dr. Saifullah Mir has fulfilled the promise he made with his Creator—a promise that drove him to leave behind the comforts of life and adopt the wilderness as his abode for six long years. Born in 1989 in the village of Malangpora, Pulwama, in the home of a school teacher, Mohammad Akram Mir, Saifullah entered the world at a time when Jammu and Kashmir was ablaze with resistance against India’s illegal occupation.

Saifullah completed his early education in science within his native region and earned a diploma in biomedical engineering from the Industrial Training Institute in Pulwama. His academic journey continued at the National Institute of Electronics and Information Technology in Srinagar, where he worked as a technician for three years. Later, he served as an instructor in a local institute and even applied for a job at the prestigious Sher-i-Kashmir Institute of Medical Sciences (SKIMS) Soura, where his technical expertise earned him a position.

Despite his stable career and financial prospects, Saifullah felt an unrest stirring within his heart—a deep yearning to dedicate himself to a greater cause. On October 8, 2014, he left behind his worldly aspirations and joined Hizbul Mujahideen, a native pro-freedom resistance organization in the region. Equipped with technical knowledge and a sharp intellect, Saifullah quickly found his purpose. This was an era when Burhan Wani, a charismatic leader, was inspiring Kashmir’s youth to join the movement for freedom. Burhan’s powerful messages resonated across the region and inspired youth to rise against oppression. Saifullah, too, was deeply influenced by Burhan’s vision, which emphasized sacrifices for the liberation of Kashmir.

Saifullah’s upbringing in a household steeped in moral and ethical values shaped his path in Hizbul Mujahideen. Over the years, he transformed into a resolute and strategic leader. Following the martyrdom of Burhan Wani in 2016 and subsequent leaders like Mohammad Yaseen Ittoo (Mahamood Ghaznavi) and Riyaz Naikoo, Saifullah was appointed Hizbul Mujahideen’s Operational Chief. Before this role, he had served as the district commander for Pulwama, earning a reputation for meticulous planning and great commitment.

As a leader, Saifullah prioritized uniting his comrades and ensured their needs were met, and preparing them for resistance against the Indian occupation. His dedication and strategic acumen placed him on the Indian intelligence agencies’ most-wanted list, ranking second only to Riyaz Naikoo. Recognized as a “Category A++” armed fighter, Saifullah became a symbol of resistance, revered by his followers and feared by his adversaries.

Saifullah’s medical knowledge and care for wounded comrades earned him the title “Dr. Saif.” His ability to inspire and organize his men made him an invaluable asset to Hizbul Mujahideen. Despite relentless pressure from Indian forces, Saifullah remained steadfast while inflicting heavy losses on the occupying army and its collaborators.

On November 1, 2020, Saifullah’s journey of resistance reached its culmination. In a fierce gunfight in Rangreth, Srinagar, he fought valiantly against Indian occupying forces. Trapped in a residential house under siege, Saifullah refused to surrender, embodying the spirit of his predecessors. Alone, he held off the enemy for hours and ultimately chose martyrdom over captivity or surrender. Indian forces, unable to overpower him directly, resorted to destroying the house where he was entrenched. The news of his martyrdom spread quickly, sparking protests and clashes as youth gathered at the site, chanting slogans against Indian oppression and in support of freedom. Following his martyrdom, the Indian authorities buried him far from his native village, in a graveyard under their control in Baramulla. This act, intended to deny Kashmiris the chance to honor their hero, only deepened the people’s resolve. They have been burying the resistance fighters far away from their ancestral villages since 2019, often denying them a proper Islamic burial and preventing their family members from participating in their funerals or even see the faces of their loved ones one last time.

Dr. Saifullah’s life and sacrifice exemplify the spirit of the Kashmiri struggle for freedom. Despite opportunities for a prosperous life, he chose the path of resistance and dedicated himself to the cause of liberation. His leadership not only strengthened the organizational structure of Hizbul Mujahideen but also inspired countless others to join the movement.

The sacrifices of Saifullah and countless others are a testament to the resilience of the Kashmiri people, who have faced decades of occupation and oppression. Lakhs of lives have been lost, thousands have been orphaned, widowed, or disappeared, and entire villages have faced devastation. However, the struggle continues, passed down from one generation to the next.

May Dr. Saifullah’s sacrifice be accepted by the Almighty, and may his legacy guide the Kashmiri struggle for liberation until its ultimate success. Aameen

This article was translated from Urdu by Idrees Bhat

 

 

“I have told you that narratives and meta-narratives are being generated like the printing in the press. But these narratives have lost the worth in Kashmir. From Kashmiryat to Sports activism, from autonomy to self-rule, from good governance to sadhbhavna, from all party trips to the visit of anti-insurgent peace-nicks, from renegades to self-styled platforms, and from dialogue to interlocution, all these narratives have been punctured. India has been exposed and even world bodies have lately shamed them. Till the path of martyrs is walked, no corrupt narrative will find its space in Kashmir. The day, the gun is silent, their deceit will succeed”

-Shaheed Dr. Mannan Wani