Dispatches: Kashmir’s Torture Trail

Filming in Kashmir meant keeping rushes safe, dodging stones – and persuading the locals that daily life was worth showing, says Catie White.

Credits

Kashmir’s Torture Trail

Production company True Vision
TX 5 July, 10pm, Channel 4
Commissioner Siobhan Sinnerton
Camera/director/editor Jezza Neumann
Producer Catie White
Executive producer Brian Woods
Post Paddy Garrick, True Vision in-house

Summary Dispatches investigation following a Kashmiri lawyer in the most militarised place on earth, as he uncovers India’s best-kept secret.

Catie White
Producer

There was no amount of explaining to our local AP – who had a day job for a busy lawyer’s practice and was doing us a favour by stepping into the breach in a hostile region where having someone who can spot the difference between a street vendor and a government spy meant keeping hold of our rushes – what we meant by future tense. Or character development.

“Let us know when [Ms X’s] story moves on,” we tried, as he kept an eye out for the competing intelligence agencies that follow foreigners filming in the Kashmir Valley. “Tell us when something happens to [Y]. Alert us when a significant event in [the carpenter’s] life is about to unfold.”

A funeral. A memorial. A homecoming. These were simple things that could help us achieve an intimate and fluid life – and death – story in this Indian state divided between Pakistan and China. It’s one of the longest-running emergencies in the world, for so long off our screens, especially when the Arab Spring drew away the last Western reporters, despite hundreds of thousands of local youths coming out onto the streets, throwing stones at the heavily armed Indian security forces. The troops returned fire with live rounds.

We arrived in Srinagar, the summer capital of Kashmir, in spring 2011, determined to seek out articulate teenage demonstrators to follow, through whom we would learn about these mega—protests that terrified the Indian government. However, the Indian security forces were also filming the stone-throwing boys; police snatch squads were seizing them in nightly round-ups that made them fear all cameras. On the other side, the police and paramilitaries, who had already killed 118 protestors, some of them children, had taken to beating journalists to stop them recording the unrest.

As we wrestled with the unwilling on both sides of the barricades, another potentially unfilmable development crashed over us: a state-wide government crackdown, with roadblocks and curfews that put several of the towns in which we had started making headway off-limits.

Mass arrests followed, with tens of thousands seized. Which brings us back to character development: how could we shoot what could not be easily seen among people who could not afford to speak out, using the local team of irregulars who struggled with our methods?

This has nothing to do with brains. Our local ad hoc AP could speak four languages. However, in a conflict zone where a pro-independence insurgency has cost upwards of 70,000 lives and at least 8,000 civilians have vanished while in custody – far more than in Pinochet’s Chile – all of the events we exhorted our fixer to help us chart seemed to him too mundane for TV.

A family silently assaying their dead son’s school certificates. The tearful joy when a sister hugged a wounded brother unexpectedly released from jail. We captured moments such as these despite the crackdown, and uncovered a shocking story about how India had restored peace in the Valley. But all of it came to us through people forgetting we were there.

It took time. We filmed on and off over a year. We spent days drinking saffron tea, munching almond biscuits and waiting for lives to coagulate. And in a punch-drunk state like Kashmir, when you are in the right place and the talking begins, it’s unstoppable.

A youthful insurgent went into a trance describing the inside of an Indian torture chamber, where Urdu graffiti welcomed him to hell. A veiled schoolgirl revealed, for the first time, how she had been plucked from class in her uniform, tortured and raped. A father sat before passport photos of his two dead sons, telling how he would never stop fighting to convict the security forces who shot one and then, when he protested, drowned the second in the Jhelum River.

It was when we strove to cover a story that things stalled, like the time we drove for 18 hours to reach a border village where residents were said to be captives of the security forces. A checkpoint stopped us and a young captain turned us around, mumbling into our AP’s ear in Urdu: “If the foreigners talk to anyone here, you will get it.” This the AP fully understood, and dismissed. A lifetime of threats had made him immune.

My tricks of the trade

Spend time constructing a non-partisan local team to fix, translate and guide.
If appropriate, seek out the authorities monitoring you before they act. It defuses tension.
Assume that every time you are on the road, someone is rifling through whatever you have left behind in your hotel room.
Take digital security seriously, protecting and disguising your rushes, encrypting your emails,
and talking on the phone in the expectation that everything you say is being overheard.
Pack a cafetière and good coffee.

Secret filming

Brian Woods
Executive producer

Funding a film like this is always a challenge. Channel 4 came on board early and we hoped that would enable us to attract the co-pro money we would need to make this film possible.

Sadly, we were unable to persuade our previous co-funders in the US or Germany that Kashmir was important enough to warrant this kind of investment. But we felt passionately that the tale of how torture is being used in Kashmir had to be told, so with the help of a modest, but much appreciated, advance against international sales from DRG, True Vision invested the rest of the shortfall and Jezza Neumann (pictured) and the team set off.

The film had to be HD-compliant, but also needed to be filmed as discreetly as possible. C4 made a special exception for Jezza to shoot HDV rather than full HD so that we could opt for a combination of Sony HVR-Z5 outputting the footage to a tape and card, and an HVR-A1 when even more discretion was needed. The HVR-A1 is ideal as once you’ve taken off the XLR and dispersed your equipment in bags or about your person, it doesn’t look at all suspicious. The only downside is that it records to tape, so you have to make sure you offload your footage as soon as possible.

The HVR-Z5, on the other hand, is perfect because, unlike tapeless cameras, you can put tourist footage on the tape and your real stuff on the cards; if you’re searched, you can hand over the tape and keep the card. Then back in the rooms, everything gets transferred to drives and put on hidden partitions, so it will take a seriously techy geek to find it. All our drives were then duplicated, with one set stored in a safe house.

One essential was protection when filming stone-pelting scenes. The team wore bump caps often used on building sites and Jezza had a motorcycle back protector.

Watch the Pre Trailer

Courtesy: Broadcast Now

Shopian Cover Up.

Excerpts from a report by The Independent Women’s Initiative for Justice

In the afternoon of 29 May, 2009, two young women left home for their orchard. Neelofar and Asiya were sisters-in-law. Neelofar had married Asiya’s brother Shakeel, and had an infant son. Asiya a schoolgoing teenager aspired to become an engineer. In the evening Shakeel learnt that Neelofar and Asiya had not returned home. These are trying times in Kashmir, and there is much cause for concern when people do not return home before dark. Shakeel began his search with friends and family. As night set in, Shakeel sought the help of the police and together they scoured the countryside.

The way to the orchard is crowded with the security forces - the District Police Lines, an army outpost and a CRPF camp, with night lights. The Rambi Ara Nallah that runs through is clearly visible to the lookouts in the CRPF camp, under the glare of the search lights. Before the Justice Jan Commission, the night guards, stated they had seen the search party, but conveniently noticed nothing for the rest of the night, and had no explanation for the mysterious appearance of the bodies.

The police called off the search at 2.30 a.m. promising to restart at the crack of dawn. Around 5.30 a.m. Shakeel resumed the search. An hour later the local police joined and almost immediately the SHO Shafeeq Ahmed pointed out the spot where Neelofar’s body was found. Neelofar’s body was found at a shallow spot which is located about 100 mtrs upstream from Zavora bridge over the Rambi Ara Nallah.

It was observed by Justice Jan in the First Spot Inspection that the depth of the stream around the spot would be 2 -2.5 feet, with reasonably fast flowing water, but certainly not strong current to drown an adult girl. It is pertinent to note that this exact spot had been thoroughly searched by the family and police till 2:30a.m.

Asiya’s body was found further downstream, 1.5 km from the army camp. The exact spot is 1.5 km down stream from Zavora bridge. The dead body was found at an elevated dry spot in the stream. Those who helped retrieve the bodies of the two women saw enough to suspect that this was a case of rape and murder. The photographs taken of the bodies as they were recovered from the Nallah showed visible signs of injuries and wounds. When the bodies reached the hospital, there were two post-mortems performed on them to determine the cause of death and any antecedent injuries. It was put out by the police that the deaths were caused by drowning although the first post mortem report itself had negated drowning as the cause of death of the two women.

Whenever a crime occurs, what leads the investigator to the accused are a series of material, forensic, scientific, medical, circumstantial and ocular evidence. The diligent collection and professional analysis of these pieces of evidence enable the whodunit to be solved. Similarly the mystery surrounding the killing of 2 young women in Shopian could have been unraveled by piecing together the clues.

However at every stage those responsible for unmasking the culprit/s, have systematically and deliberately destroyed, tampered, diluted, the evidence and thus misdirected and obfuscated the investigation. The truth of this damning statement is borne out by the facts enumerated below:

• The spots from where the bodies of Neelofar and Asiya • were recovered were not preserved or cordoned off by SHO Shafeeq Ahmed and SI Gazi Abdul Kareem and no instructions to that effect were given by the S.P. Javed Mattoo. Evidence relating to vehicle tyre marks, footprints was not gathered, these could have provided a vital trail leading to the accused. No instructions were given by the S.P or SHO to photograph the bodies. No detailed or accurate site plan of the spot was prepared. For instance the motorable approach road into the Rambi Ara Nallah is conveniently not marked. Again relevant details such as the depth, width of the stream and the speed of the current were left out.

• Neither the S.P. Javed Mattoo nor the Dy. S.P. went to the spot to supervise the investigation.The S.P.,Dy S.P. and SHO • all three admitted before the Jan Commission that contrary to the settled position of law they did not issue instructions for registration of the F.I.R

• Clothes of the deceased women were not seized nor was any material collected from the spot where the bodies were found. The S.P also admitted that the visible injury of a large size on the head of Asiya was not measured.

The town rose as one to challenge what they saw as an attempt to cover up a crime. Shopian shut down for 48 days. The government had to set up a Commission of Inquiry, an SIT and the High Court had to interest itself in the matter before the town resumed a semblance of the everyday. Majlis-e-Mashawarat, comprising of the elders of Shopian led the demand for justice to the victims, their families and for the assurance of safety to all women of Shopian. The valley joined the call for justice.

6 months later, the CBI reportedly claims that what happened that night was a case of drowning. No one is to blame.

The drowning theory that the CBI is floating does not hold water, for the following reasons:

Neelofar’s body was found in the very place where the police and family had looked for them the last thing the previous night. That is, it was not there at 2.30 a.m., but was found at about 6 o’clock. And no one admitting to having seen it happen despite the high security in the area. Where were the women till then? In hiding? Why? Guard Commander B.B. Kumar and Pradeep Kumar admitted before the Justice Jan Commission that they had instructions to report any suspicious movement in the Nallah during the intervening night of 29-30th May, 2009, but had noticed no suspicious movement of vehicles in the nallah from 2:00a.m. – 4:00a.m. There has been no report or “leak” of the CBI, further questioning these 2 night guards.

• The only test performed on both the bodies was the lung flotation test, performed by Dr. Bilal during the first postmortem on 30th May, 2009, which negated the possibility of death by drowning. When IWIJ met the CB-CID, at their insistence, a post-mortem report was flaunted before us, which did not bear the endorsement that drowning had been conclusively ruled out. Why did the police and Shopian administration announce drowning as the cause of death despite medical evidence to the contrary? Why were senior officers trying to convince us of drowning even after three months through an uncertified post mortem report? The drowning theory however continues to resurface and the CBI leaks are once again trying to resuscitate it.

• All the officers of the department advanced the theory of death by drowning with full knowledge and belief that no one in the recent or past history of Shopian has died due to drowning in River Rambi Ara.

• The Shopian Bar Association had during the course of it’s independent fact finding found 2 public witnesses viz. Abdul Rashid and Ghulam Mohi-ud- Din. On 29th May, 2009 around 7:30 -8:00 p.m., these 2 men just after crossing the Zavora bridge on Rambi Ara Nallah, saw a blue colour 407 police truck with khaki tarpal on the left side of the road, in which 2 girls were shouting ‘Mouji Mouji’. The eight uniformed men guarding the front and rear of the truck abused, threatened and forced these two witnesses to flee from the spot.

• All witnesses who may testify to a cause of death other than drowning have been systematically compromised. Significantly witnesses who did not support the drowning theory have reportedly under sustained interrogation from the CBI changed their stance.

As for accidental drowning, of two women, in such shallows, in a nallah where no one in recent or living memory has ever drowned – we would need to be more than merely credulous to believe that possible! While available evidence has been manipulated and distorted, crucial material, circumstantial,ocular and forensic evidence was deliberately never collected and allowed to be destroyed, lest the tell tale signs point an accusing finger.

Auschwitz in the old city by Sameer Bhat

Yeh kiska lahu, kaun mara
ai rahabar mulko kaum bata

~Whose blood is this, who died?
Oh leader of my nation, speak up
[My translation of Sahir Ludyanvi’s verse lines]

Word was out, like a lion that hadn’t eaten for days. Early Monday morning three gunmen had barged into the Lake view home of Kashmir’s Mirwaiz – Chief preacher and spiritual leader to more than five and a half million Kashmiri Muslims – and went straight to Maulvi Muhammad Farooq’s alcove. The men had the mental maps worked out and knew exactly where to find the head priest.

A hugely influential but controversial leader, Maulvi Farooq was quite urbane and classy. He would appear in Srinagar’s historical Jamia Mosque at noon-time on Fridays clad in an intricately embroidered gown and a Karakul cap with trademark black glasses. A thousand eyes would look at him in awe as he slowly ambled towards the pulpit of the 600-year old perfumed prayer hall, ornate in exquisite Indo-Saracenic architecture. All 370 wooden pillars in the mosque stood upstanding. The chandeliers pendulated.

But when have gun-barrels respected superior lineages? The men, who entered the Mirwaiz house, on May 21, 1990, pushed their way into his study and even before the 11th Mirwaiz of Kashmir could understand what was happening, a volley of bullets hit him. Centuries old reverence was brutally violated. Always pro-Pakistan, Maulvi Farooq had recently fallen out of favor with the hardliners. A meeting with India’s Kashmir affairs minister and subsequently calling the kidnapping of Rubiya Sayed ‘un-Islamic’ acted as an immediate provocation.

By the time the reverend was wheeled to the Sher-i-Kashmir [Lion of Kashmir] institute of medical sciences, a hospital ironically named after his bete-noire Sheikh Abdullah, with fifteen gun-wounds to his head, chest, stomach and legs, Mirwaiz was dead. Kashmir’s grand abbot was no more, slaughtered by his erstwhile followers. Irate crowds began to gather outside the hospital as news got around. Governor Jagmohan – recently dispatched to tame Kashmiris – got into a huddle with his security advisors at Raj Bhawan, a few kilometers away. Indignation rained.

There was some scuffle over Mirwaiz’s dead body. The hospital authorities were hesitant to hand it over. People took forcible control of the slain leader’s body and carried it in a procession through downtown Srinagar. The crowd swelled as more and more people joined the cortege. Sloganeering hastened. Women wailed. Near the Islamia College of science and commerce, located at Hawal, the 69th battalion of CRPF intercepted the marchers. Suddenly, skittish like stupefied horses, troopers aimed their guns on the mourners. A curtain of fire followed. 57 innocent people were cut to an instant death.

The pallbearers were all dead. Mirwaiz’s body fell off the coffin, on the road. Two more bullets hit his mortal remains. The air was rent with terrifying screams and more bullets, which seemed to ricochet off the walls and hit even more people. In less than three minutes, the funeral procession was reduced to a pile of dead. The road outside the college resembled a concentration camp, with bodies scattered all over, a blood-soaked coffin, hundreds of slippers, bedaubed in blood. Hawal was Srinagar’s little Auschwitz in that hour.

There are conflicting reports about what happened afterwards: Eye-witnesses who spoke to foreign media said that as soon as the CRPF guns fell silent (having exhausted their ammunition), around six to seven men -- from the procession -- collected Mirwaiz’s body from the roadside and placed it in the coffin. By all accounts they ran with the casket to Mirwaiz’s office. The cleric was later laid to rest in Srinagar’s Martyr’s graveyard. Those who perished in the blood-bath were buried the same day. Sometimes in history mourners can swiftly become mourned.

Ironically the man alleged to have led the hit squad to assassinate the Mirwaiz, Abdullah Bangroo, was killed less than a month later by troopers. In an atmosphere as malefic and morbid as Kashmir it is hard to sift through the official and unofficial versions. Often both are contradictory. Call it a quirk of fate, Abdullah Bangroo lies buried very close to Mirwaiz's tomb in the Martyr’s cemetery in Srinagar.

No one was ever charged or punished for the May 21 killings. Governor Jagmohan, under whose watch the mass murder took place, never showed any remorse.

Blood, bought for a song.

© 2010 Sameer

Burden of Memories

By Uzma Falak for Kashmir Dispatch

My memory keeps getting in the way of your history - Agha Shahid Ali.

A little over fifteen years ago, while holding my mother’s arm, I looked out from a window of my house in Srinagar. The sight though blurred now, my memory bears an indelible impression; men shouldering the dead in shrouds, women wailing and the air resonating with slogans of Hum Kya Chahtay? Azaadi! (What do we want? Freedom!) I vividly remember asking my mother, “When shall we get Azaadi?” I didn’t know what Azaadi meant, though I knew that the people of my land desperately wanted it. A long silence had followed my question.

Today, after all those years, I stand at the same window, now with a broken pane, bearing witness to the same yearning, anger and asking the same question to myself. When shall we be free?

No matter how hard our elders tried to shield us from the trail of destruction outside, their efforts failed. My generation grew up listening to terms like Curfew, Crackdown, Martyr, Tehreek. Azaadi was in the air – at the bakers’, in dining rooms, in buses and on the streets.

My childhood passed under the shadow of a gun. Dreams were interrupted by the deafening sound of gunshots and grenades. I remember my brother’s favourite past time was to make wooden toy-guns and play what he called ‘encounter-encounter’. During cricket matches no one around me would cheer for India. As a child, I failed to comprehend the sentiment, however, gradually in those small but strong signs I started to find my identity as a Kashmiri.

On a sunny afternoon, I remember walking home from school with my friends. The roads were barricaded, the troopers stopped us and one of them frisked our school bags. He even frisked my friend’s lunch box, which made me angry. I snapped back saying, “We are school going children and this is a lunch box. How can you expect...” He was red in the face as I looked sharply at him and walked away. Anger and excitement gripped me at the same time as I hurried back home to narrate what I thought was an act of gallantry. But, my mother was scared. She scolded me saying, “They could have shot you there and then.”

At educational institutions books conceal our history, even maps are distorted. But planners of such tactics forget that children here live in conflict and life is the greatest teacher.

The heavy presence of troopers, the army pickets at every nook and corner, the barbed wires and barricades, the frisking – it all seemed ‘normal’ until I stepped out of Kashmir and found a different world. It was then I realized that my home was not ‘normal’.

Debates surrounding us made me inquisitive and I found that in the United Nations, the state of Jammu and Kashmir was registered as a dispute after litigation made by the first Indian Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru. The UN suggested a plebiscite, which was accepted by Nehru and promised to the people of the state during his speech on All India Radio in 1948 and also while addressing a mammoth gathering at Lal Chowk in Srinagar. Nehru made this promise time and again.

But instead of holding to the promise, New Delhi indulged in systematic abrogation of the special status guaranteed to the state under the Treaty of Accession. Till 1987, observers say not a single state election could be termed ‘free and fair’; such doctored democracy could only breed rebellion. Two years later, an armed uprising erupted and New Delhi’s response was repressive, to say the least. The number of people killed is disputed, but the widely accepted figure is 70,000.

Since childhood I have only known the inhuman face of India’s presence. Victims of torture, rape, forced disappearances, unmarked graves, widows, half widows, orphans – their common address is Kashmir.

In 2005, a bomb blast outside Tyndale Biscoe and Mallinson girls’ school, where I studied, left me uneasy for days. Disturbing images of my classmates and children yelling, crying in pain; blood soaked uniforms and blood spilled floors. My helplessness at not being able to locate my younger brother in that huge crowd of media men, ambulances, OB vans and troopers still haunts me.

The picture perfect Kashmir, is not only about the picturesque Dal Lake and Mughal gardens it is also the most densely militarized zone in the world. Here minors are booked under draconian laws like the Public Safety Act (PSA), which allows people to be held without trial for up to two years. There are no juvenile homes here. The Armed Forces Special Powers Act (AFSPA) gives Indian troops free hand to search, arrest, shoot and also provides them with immunity from prosecution. Human rights violations, a plagued justice system and bad governance are what people are protesting against.

With my childhood memories hoarded, 2010 only reinforced my identity as a child of conflict. And, it also came with a yearning to express our collective pain. For me writing became a consolation and a need.

Marked as the year of Innocent Killings, 2010 began with the killing of Inayat Khan, 16, who was shot by troopers on his way to tuition on January 8. Days later, Wamiq Farooq and Zahid Farooq, both school going boys like Inayat, became victims of the government forces’ actions. Worst was yet to come; on April 29, the Indian Army killed three Kashmiri youth in a fake encounter near the Line of Control (LoC) in the Machil sector. The situation became aggravated after 17-year-old, Tufail Ahmed Mattoo, who was returning from tuitions, was hit in the head with a teargas canister inside the Gani Memorial stadium in Srinagar’s old city. After that our days passed counting the dead; in total 118 people were killed during the summer unrest of 2010.

The words of Faiz Ahmed Faiz sum up our miseries. “The executioner's hands are clean, his nails transparent. The sleeves of each assassin are spotless. No sign of blood: No trace of red…”

Kashmiris have been alienated for decades. With every case that is forgotten, the memory sharpens. With every act of injustice a new stone thrower is born. The government has failed to reach people. In a volte-face, the government charged dead Wamiq, 13, of causing injury to a cop instead of bringing his murderers to book.

“There are countless pending cases and everyone knows the fate they meet. We don’t have any hopes. We can’t push it to the court for long. We are common, poor people and can’t afford the costs. Allah is the witness and that is the only consolation.” These words of a brother, whose sister was among those killed, speak volumes about the faith common man has in the judiciary.

Terms like healing touch, negotiation table and dialogue have been used and abused by the government repeatedly. In reality India’s answer to stones has been brute force. Though India’s diagnosis has always entered on development and employment, intentionally shoving the real issue under the rugs of oblivion. Labelling the unrest as part of Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) and Lashkar-e-Toiba (LeT) backed is seen as yet another desecration of Kashmir’s sentiment.

A 5th grader in my neighbourhood secretly comes out of his house, without letting his mother know, to pelt stones and register his protest. Is he, a boy in grade 5, funded by ISI or LeT or is he crying for employment? I will let you be the judge.

I saw 9-year-old Sameer Rah in shrouds, his tiny body on a stretcher, being carried for the burial. He was ruthlessly beaten to death, and when his body was found he still had a half eaten toffee in his mouth. I can’t forget the face of his wailing mother and my own helplessness as I stood on the street testifying. The tearful voice of Sameer’s friend from a mosque loudspeaker still echoes in my head, “Sameer your blood will bring revolution!”

Concertina wires, barricades, burning tires or its leftover, crushed glasses, scattered stones – these have become signposts on every street in Kashmir. The graffiti Go India Go, We Want Freedom – a message loud and clear, is what every street in Kashmir says.

While the idea of Azaadi remains dear to the heart of Kashmir, there has been a clear transition from guns to stones and slogans and many other forms of dissent. While peaceful protests on the streets are quelled, they have reached cyberspace. Videos and pictures, depicting the gory realities of New Delhi’s troops have been shared across the globe.

In these times, when the mind is busy in damage control and when everyday brings with it new ordeals, we have to keep our head and wage war against our memory lest we forget. Our memory is the strongest weapon in such times.

As a Kashmiri I don’t hate Indians; I have many Indian friends. The protest is against the impotency of the Indian government to understand our sentiment. It is over 60 years and India should respect the ideals of the democracy that it claims to uphold, otherwise, its global image of being the world’s ‘largest democracy’ might be dubbed as the biggest PR scam in history.

Iram, a forty-day-old baby girl, died just because she couldn’t make it to hospital as government forces did not allow her family through during curfew. Iram’s 5-year-old sister, when asked, innocently said woh margayi, military walon ne jaanay nahe diya (she died because troopers didn't let her go). Iram’s sister will find her identity as a Kashmiri in these signs, the way I did when I was a child. And when she grows up she too will sing the songs of Azaadi.

Courtesy: Kashmir Dispatch

Gaw Kadal Massacre : "I lay motionless..."

By Sana Altaf

Again this year, Moisza did not celebrate her birthday. That day, January 22, once again brought back the memories of her maternal uncle, Rauf Ahmad, who laid down his life to save hundreds of people.

It was January 20, 1990, just a year after the Kashmiri insurgency against Indian occupation began. Faced with massive unrest as the insurgency swelled, the Indian government, unable to restore law and order, dismissed Kashmir's democratically elected National Conference government; the legislature and cabinet was dissolved and governor rule was declared. Indian bureaucrat Jagmohan Malhotra was appointed governor. That night, in response to militant attacks and the kidnapping of Rubaiya Sayeed - daughter of the former chief minister of Jammu and Kashmir, Mufti Sayeed - the Indian paramilitary Central Reserve Police Force (CRPF) conducted warrantless house-to-house searches, arresting hundreds of people, beating them and allegedly harassing women.

As word of the night searches spread, enraged mobs began to fill the streets. Unaware of the chaos, five-year-old Moisza (whose full name has been withheld at her request) kept busy with her birthday preparations while the valley simmered.

"It was January 21. The whole city was under curfew. People had gathered to protest against the incident. The protest had started from Raj Bagh [Srinagar], marching toward Lal Chowk and Maisuma [the city center]," remembers Farooq Ahmad Wani, one of the survivors of the Gawkadal massacre.

Farooq, then working as an engineer in the water works department, was heading for the Divisional Commissioner's (DC) office for curfew passes, but when he reached Jahangir Chowk of Srinagar, he was not allowed to move in the direction of the DC office.

"I was not allowed to go to the DC office, where I needed to get curfew passes. The security men directed me towards Lal Chowk. I started walking towards Lal Chowk, thinking of visiting my uncle, who lived nearby, on the other side of the Gawkadal bridge," said Farooq.

In the meantime, the peaceful protesters had passed by Moisza's uncle Rauf's house. As Zulehama, Rauf's elder sister recalls, "I had gone to my mother's place and started packing up Rauf's clothes for his journey to Jammu. He had just returned from his ski course in Gulmarg, so he was dressed in the jacket and sports shoes, which he wore even while he was martyred."

However, Rauf, then 24 years old, had promised his beloved niece Moisza that he would attend her birthday celebration before leaving for Jammu.

"My elder daughter Moisza would spend most of her time with Rauf and my mother. She was the apple of his eye. He had assured her he would attend her birthday on January 22," said Zulehama.

But watching the protesters from the window of his house made Rauf uneasy. Zulehama still remembers his words: "How can we tolerate disgrace of our women? If we stay quiet, they [security forces] will get up to anything. We all should join the protest, or it will be immodest on our part."

Rauf performed ablutions and joined the protesters. A mob of men, women and children marched chanting through the streets and lanes. Farooq, who was heading to his uncle's house, walked casually by the peaceful protesters, but when they reached the Gawkadal bridge in the heart of Srinagar City, Indian security forces opened fire on them.

"As the protesters reached the Gawkadal bridge, one gunshot was heard first, which was immediately followed by indiscriminate firing," recalls Farooq.

The fearful protesters scattered, and the firing continued as the CRPF chased them through lanes and alleys. Some of the protesters jumped into the Jhelum River. Those who could not escape were shot on the spot. Not a single person was spared.

"I had walked amid women thinking that they would not fire on them, but the CRPF men did not spare them either. Those who were injured were again shot in the head by the security personnel to make sure to kill them," recollects Farooq.

In this atmosphere of bloodshed and frenzy, the CRPF resorted to firing on the mob with machine guns. Zulehama sobs as she remembers what happened next. "Watching this, Rauf, who was a part of the protest, turned the machine gun towards himself. It pierced him deep with 32 bullets, saving scores of protesters while ending his life. As Rauf sacrificed his life for his nation and people, Moisza kept waiting for her darling uncle to celebrate her birthday."

As Rauf gave his life, Farooq struggled to live for his children. "I remembered my three daughters and thought of what would happen to them if I died," says Farooq. The girls were all toddlers at the time.

In an effort to save his own life, Farooq contemplated jumping from the bridge into the waters of the river Jhelum that flowed beneath it. But as he neared the edge of the bride to jump, a tall man came rushing at him, struck him and pinned him down to the ground before jumping into the water himself.

"I lay flat on the ground, scores of dead bodies around me. Not a single person was alive. I lay motionless to signal to them [the CRPF] that I was dead," Farooq said.

In the rush of the incident, a kangri, or heating pot, had crashed to the ground. Farooq's face lay on its hot ash as charcoal burned beside him. When he slowly turned his face to escape the heat, his motion caught the eye of a CRPF officer who quickly approached him.

"'He is alive,' an officer said aloud, abusing me in Hindi," remembers Farooq.

As the officer approached him, Farooq rose to his knees, his hands raised, pleading the officer not to harm him.

"Taking no sympathy on me, the officer shot the whole round of bullets into me with his carbine gun, knocking me down. I became half-unconscious, my body burning and feeling thirsty," recalls Farooq as his green crystal eyes dampen with tears.

After a while, Kashmir's local police arrived on the scene. As they surveyed the dead, they grew fierce with anger.

"I could see their faces red with sympathy for us and anger over the incident. Observing the anger of the police officials, one CRPF official slapped some of the local police personnel, asking them to leave or they will be shot, too," said Farooq. The policemen retreated.

Farooq again lost hope and lay back in pain when he was approached by a CPRF officer he assumed to be the subordinate of the one who shot him.

"He came toward me and saw that I was alive. He used abusive words and pointed his gun on my temple and began to press the trigger when the officer who had shot me before shouted from a distance, 'I have shot him enough. He will die on his own. Do not waste your bullet,'" remembers Farooq.

The official withdrew his gun and pushed Farooq to the ground. An eerie silence followed all around, which broke only when a truck landed to take the dead bodies. "A Sikh CRPF personnel stood near me, and I feebly pleaded with him to take me into the truck, as I was alive. He took hold of my muffler and dragged me into the truck along with other dead bodies," said Farooq.

The truck, filled with the dead, reached the police control room, where the corpses were unloaded. The control room doctor was called. The concerned physician examined them all.

"When the doctor saw me alive, he immediately ordered me to be taken to hospital, and I was rushed to hospital and saved," says Farooq, heaving a sigh.

Farooq remembers that besides him, a teenaged boy was also alive. The young man had taken a bullet in his knee and was crying fretfully in pain, but, upon reaching the control room, he ran away.

"The hospital was in chaos as all the dead were brought there. But on seeing me alive, people came to me, kissed me and hugged me. And amid all that, I noted a small boy holding my shoes close to his chest," smiles Farooq.

After two months of bed rest, Farooq recovered and returned to work. But the trauma stayed with him.

"I faced severe depression. I have been since taking antidepressants. When I work too much or think, I get tired. Doctors had even suggested that I relocate outside of Kashmir to overcome my condition. The incident has left a deep impact on my mind. Not a day passes when I don't think of that day," said Farooq.

The Gawkadal massacre left scores of people dead. While police say only 32 people were killed, eyewitnesses put the count at between 100 and 200 people. The most commonly used figure is 52. Since the incident has never been investigated, exact figures are still unknown.

Despite the clear evidence and eyewitness accounts, no known action was taken against any CRPF officials who ordered their forces to open fire at Gawkadal, or against the officers present during the shooting. No public inquiry was ordered into the incident. The police did file complaints against demonstrators who pelted stones at security forces, but even these were not investigated. Without an investigation into the events at Gawkadal, there will be no chance of holding those responsible accountable.

The Gawkadal massacre is regarded as the bloodiest massacre to date in the history of Kashmir. Human rights activists here see the incident as a turning point in the history of Kashmir, and define the killings as the primary catalyst for the mass militant movement. As Human Rights Watch said in a May 1991 report, "In the weeks that followed as security forces fired on crowds of marchers and as militants intensified their attacks against the police and those suspected of aiding them, Kashmir's civil war began in earnest."

"Gawkadal massacre changed the mindset of the people of Kashmir towards India. In that protest, only 10,000 people participated, but it followed mass protests in which hundreds thousands of people thronged to the streets," said Khurram Parvez, an award-winning Kashmiri human rights activist and cofounder of Jammu and Kashmir Coalition of Civil Society.

Khurram said the Gawkadal massacre "pushed people to join militancy and receive training." Khurram's maternal grandfather was killed in the violence that day.

"I was 14 years of age then, and the man behind that massacre lived next door. It was a torture to see him every day. As a young boy, I had decided to take revenge on him, but then, as I grew up, I realized that the greatest revenge would be fighting for justice," says Khurram.

Twenty-one years later, the situation in Kashmir remains unchanged. The security forces' killings of innocents have not ceased, nor has the government's indifference towards such incidents. On January 8, 2010, 16-year-old Inayat Ahmad was killed in a shooting by Indian security forces. Ahmad's killing was followed by the death of 13-year-old Wamiq Farooq, who was hit in the head by a tear gas shell. Death came to 16-year-old Zahid Farooq after he was allegedly shot by security forces, having done nothing to provoke them, while playing cricket on February 5, 2010.

The cycle of killings continued and took an even more violent turn following the killing of 16-year-old Tufail Ahmad Mattoo, who was allegedly hit in the head by a tear gas shell as he was returning home from his tuitions. Tufail's death triggered valley-wide mass protests. Security forces used tear gas, gunfire and pellet guns against the protesters, some of whom observed total nonviolence, while others pelted the security forces with stones. The unrest seized Kashmir for six long months, which were dominated by stringent curfews and resulted in the killing of 112 civilians. Even the funeral processions of the deceased were fired upon.

Shares Irfan Mattoo, Tufail's uncle, said, "They [security forces] thwarted Tufail's funeral procession by using force against mourners. I and many of our relatives, including Tufail's father, could not participate in the last rites due to unwarranted restrictions."

Seventeen-year-old Javaid Ahmad was killed when security forces fired on the funeral procession of another teenager, Mohammad Rafiq.

Despite wide condemnation from human rights organizations and activists, the state government has ordered probes into only 17 of the 112 killings.

As an August 18, 2010, press statement by the Indian human rights organization People's Union for Civil Liberties states: "Repression is bound to further alienate the people and lead to more unrest. The PUCL strongly condemns the continuing killing of unarmed protesters by police firing in the Kashmir valley even if a few from the crowd might have pelted stones at the police or the security forces. The policy of bullets for brickbats followed throughout the country is inhuman even under a dictatorship and is totally unacceptable in a democracy."

The statement adds, "had the state government policy been to punish the guilty policemen or members of the security forces perpetuating these crimes instead of protecting them by subverting the course of justice, people in such a large number would not have risen in the unarmed revolt to which we are a witness today."

Seeking an end to the human rights violations in Kashmir, Delhi-based independent human rights observer and writer Professor Badri Raina said: "I believe human rights violations can diminish, perhaps cease, only if and when an Egypt-like, nonviolent, secular, mass movement is forged and allowed to sustain itself by all sides to the conflict. By 'all sides,' I do mean the state agencies, the local militants, the infiltrating Jihadis, the Hindutva hotheads and all those who make money from mayhem."

Originally appeared in http://www.truth-out.org

Imagining Srinagar - Sarajevo

The City is the memory of massacres. I hope words grow out of Gaw Kadal, Hawal, Burzalla, Zakura – cancerous, as Genet’s love of the Palestinians…

Srinagar is a city in mourning. Who remembers Srinagar in winter? The winter sky is a Hiroshima sky. The city is the martyrs’ graveyard at Eidgah.

The life of Srinagar is mourning,

To recover that memory, or to forget?

The brightness of the sky in Srinagar is cruel.

The midnight soldiers demand forgetting… They promised us flags of Fatah, they tantalised us with Jerusalem? But where did the Palestinians go?

I am a Kashmiri Palestinian; Srinagar Sarajevan. I no longer live in Srinagar but I see Srinagar as the absolute present of freedom. Of Srinagar’s singularities I can never forget the terrible Beauty of the Srinagar Intifada, Srinagar’s Rivers of stones. Why talk about this

Revolution? It too resembles a long drawn out burial, with me following the funeral procession from afar.

Naipaul writes of Srinagar that it sleeps through winter… in the winter of 1990, Srinagar is Berlin-Budapest-Bucharest, and Srinagar is Sarajevo. Naipaul’s medieval city explodes the night of January 20th 1990… on the stroke of midnight. My mother and grandmother are indifferent; they go back to sleep. I put on my phiran. I cross over to my neighbour’s; the women prepare kehava for the men while they are getting dressed. The women prepared kehava for the Sarajevans before they disappeared in the Hills. My neighbour is ecstatic. “I take no chances. I am ready. The UN is coming. Tomorrow is Independence Day”. They call the Faithful to the mosques…

Khoon-e-Shahida Rang Laya/ Fatah Ka Parcham Lahraya/ Masjid-e-Aqsa Roti Hain/ Kyon Yeh Tabahi Hoti Hain ((Blood of the martyrs has born the fruit/ the flag of victory waves from the root/ Masjid aqsa is wailing/ why this destruction is prevailing?)

… The loudspeakers speak to the Muslims. They killed more than a hundred demonstrators that night, the night of the Gaw Kadal massacre. The night of January 20th – the night of massacres.

“Srinagar, my friend, is the most dangerous city in the world”, said the JKLF sympathiser.

“Here the oppressor and the oppressed are too close to destroy”.

The intimacy nurtures Srinagar’s first suicide bomber for 9 years. Afaq, the Jaish suicide bomber who blows himself up outside the Army Cantonment (the ancient Srinagar of King Pravarsena) is just 5 years old in 1990.

January 1990 to March 1990 Srinagar is Prague, The city of demonstrations. They march to the United Nations Military Observer Group in India and Pakistan. There is a

Demonstration of Srinagar Chambers of Commerce, of students, of auto drivers, of Policemen… the incessant demonstrations last the winter. The March demonstration brings more than 1 million Kashmiris to Srinagar. People offer food to the demonstrators on the roads to Srinagar. Kashmiris turned azaadi demonstrations into an Urs fair. The soldiers open fire on the demonstrators… kill 10, 20, 50 Kashmiris, as many as it takes to clear the streets, the downtown bylanes – the hecatombs of the slaughtered.

The city is Curfewed for 17 days. There is no relaxation in the Curfew for 17 days in Downtown Srinagar, the nerve centre of the Kashmiri revolt. The Army is out in Kashmir, the schools, the hospitals turn into barracks and bazaars into battlefields.

Everybody blames the government. I blame myself. I cross many military checkpoints on the way to school after the curfew days, fearless, in identification with the men behind the sandbags. You carry your identification on you. India’s national emblem emblazoned on

the ID card. Ashoka’s Lions – the symbol of India’s commitment to peace, the sole guarantee of your existence. There’s also the vague assurance: Truth alone shall prevail.

My grandmother blames Sheikh Abdullah for this permanent Revolution, the Inquilab. My mother is overanxious, all Srinagar mothers are overanxious:

Hum Hindustan ka khate hain, Always. I listen to Radio Azad Kashmir. I fight with my mother. I change. Spring is the season of blood. The JKLF militants hide in sewers or shrines before the city opens its doors. Buddhist monks fleeing persecution had sought sanctuary in Srinagar. Now the JKLF marches to Chrar-e-Sharief. They vow liberation. They fail. No one, nothing can put into words the six months, and especially the first weeks, in Srinagar

In 1990, Things get worse. The Pandits leave Kashmir. Srinagar lays siege to Jammu and Delhi as refugees. I am no longer in Green Vale, my school. The Green Vale School is miniature Srinagar; the experimental school humbled by its rival – the Muslim Educational Trust. Green Vale is Albinioni’s adagio, the Romeo-Juliet Bridge in Sarajevo. We study the Ramayana in class. We speak of Yusuf’s Beauty and Yaqub’s Patience. Inallaha ma’al Sabireen. Allah is with the Patient.

I remember my Srinagar… Tushar loves Muslim mythology (Friday sermons to bribe Tushar), Deepu roots for Pakistan in the India-Pakistan hockey matches, Vivek’s father lend me the book on Dialectical Materialism and I lose my religion to Vishal’s 25-paisa Hindu roti, my Kashmiri Shaivism… the city of absences. I’m everything you lost. You won’t forgive me.

“Send him to Bombay with us. We can take care of him. He is quite talented. Yeh yahan is mahool mein kya karega” (What will he do in this chaotic environment?), The Principal tells my mother. I change my school. My new school is New Era, New Era Public School. We dodge grenades for years to meet friends at Hideout Café where I exchange Poetry for coffee and the azaadi

I carry with myself is the moment when I kicked the barricade outside a military bunker.

There is no news of us in the world. People tune to BBC Urdu every evening at 8:30 & 11:00… we become the children of news. "Yeh BBC London hai" (This is BBC London)… we lower the volume so as not to attract any attention and huddle over the radio as if it’d tell our truth to us.

There is no electricity in Sarajevo, no electricity in Srinagar. Srinagar is deserted in winter. Blackouts. BBC London. No electricity for days. Before dying my grandmother looked out the window at the sky and said, “Now I want to be free”.


You can choose your target in Srinagar-Sarajevo, kill the son and then shoot the mother in the stomach so that she can watch him die before her own death. They keep firing to even kill two people you end up firing for minutes. It isn’t easy to kill people.

People hear shouts from interrogation centres. Landmines tore bodies to bits and pieces, severed the limbs and peeled off faces as if they were masks. Five thousand years of Srinagar is ruins, the shatter of shrapnel. The ruins of Beirut. The ruins of the spirit. The spirit is Sabra, the spirit is Shattila.

The relatives of nearly 2,000 people who disappeared are still tracing their loved ones.

“Please tell us whether they are dead or alive”. They destroyed the memorial that the children of the disappeared had built for their missing fathers. They write slogans with the barrels of

their guns, the seven-year-old boy’s splattered brains their ink. The Sikh soldier confesses in the Crackdown… he pulls out this diary to read out names of localities where if attacked they must fire indiscriminately, to kill. “Here on the Airport Road we must be careful”.

In spring as the almond trees bloom, the war tourists come to Srinagar, Journalists from Delhi. They occupy the Ahdoos Hotel on river Jhelum in the restaurant at Ahdoos the air is thick with xenophobia that the journalists carry with them from Delhi. Loss and suffering, just like the global debt, are negotiable and for sale.

Welcome to Sarajevo.

The ubiquitous TATA bus transports dreams to Lal Chowk “ Apoor, apoor” (across, across the Jhelum) to Lal Chowk. Srinagar-Sarajevo is the city of Border Crossings. Crossing over is quite common. The bus crosses Miljacka-Jhelum to apoor apoor Lal Chowk. Cross over to Srinagar-Sarajevo. The Land of Forgetting, Paradise on Earth. And then the boys of the border crossings also get killed… 73 on 5 May 1991… People in Srinagar mourn them in colourful wedding tents.

This then is the Imaginary of my Srinagar,the houses abandoned by Kashmiri Pandits, Pir-e-Rishiyan Nund Rishi, Lalla Ded, Nagarjuna, Abhinavagupta, Left melancholy, the fetishism of Kashmiri nationalists, the hyacinth roofs, fin-de-siècle bricks, the Jewish faces (I too am a bit of a Jew), the Aryan noses, Lal Chowk and other squares, Hideout and other Cafés and saints’ shrines.

The Space in my city is a ribbon of bullets.

Hind Bookshop no longer exists and there are no books in Kashmir Bookshop. Lal Chowk is set ablaze. Palladium cinema is destroyed. Only the facade of the foyer is left…the broken wall frames the singed Srinagar sky as the screen of the Palladium’s past…countless Hindi films fade to flames. I see Dr. Guru’s dead body. There is a hole under his neck… tears flow… this must be madness. My friend, how can I share your grief? They shot Dr Guru in cold blood outside his hospital. We move out with the funeral, they shoot at the funeral procession… I lie buried under people bicycles people… La Illaha Illallaha Muhammada Rasul Allah… this is Death. I run. They killed everybody, they killed everybody…and they killed just one man… I follow him through blood on the road and hundreds of pairs of shoes the mourners left behind, as they ran from the funeral, victims of them firing… “Who remembers who killed whom?”… I turn to psychoanalysis and Buddhism.

Maybe in the words of Fawaz Turki, I am too young to be Kashmiri. I am running away.

How long do I run?

Lest We Forget : Gaw Kadal Massacre

On January 20, 1990 Jagmohan’s first address as governor stunned everybody. It was provocative. H e said:” I have come as a nurse. I will not take any salary. I will just take rupees 1000 to meet my personal expenses. I have promise you a clean administration. But if anybody creates a law and order problem, Meray Haathon say Aman ka patta Khisak jaye ga (the cards of peace I’m carrying will slip away from my hands).
It was clear warning to the people of Kashmir. And in less than 24-hours the threat was carried out.

It was January 21, 1990. The whole city was under curfew, massive search operations were going on in Srinagar city by Indian occupational forces to trace down the Militants. Shocking news spread all over. Many women had been molested and arrest of nearly 400 hundred people sent shock waves through Srinagar. Young and old came out to register their protest.
Allah-o-Akbar Kabeeran Cabrera (Allah is great; greater than the greatest).This slogan was chanted across Srinagar that evening. People gathered to protest against the incident.


In the meantime the peaceful protestors from various areas of Srinagar had reached Maisuma, shouting slogans. As the protestors reached the Gawkadal Bridge, the procession was intercepted by a party of J&K police and CRPF led by the notorious Deputy Superintendant of Police Allah Baksh. The men in uniform opened fire without any provocation. The fearful protestors scattered everywhere, and they were making their way through lanes, CPRF men were chasing the protesters. Those who co
uld not escape were shot, not sparing single man alive. “I had walked amid women thinking that they would not fire on them but CRPF men did not spare them too. Those who were just injured were again shot in head by the CRPF officer to make sure to kill them,” recollects Farooq Ahmad a survivor of the mayhem.

While everyone was running, people saw something that had never happened in Kashmir before. A CRPF trooper with a light machine gun (LMG) was firing indiscriminately on the unarmed people. Young boy Abdul Rauf Wani went to him and tried to snatch his gun. The trooper sensing danger emptied the entire magazine in to his chest. Rauf fell in a pool of blood, but not before he saved many lives of his brethren. Salute to this unsung Hero!



52 people were martyred and 250 sustained bullet injuries. As usual the official death was put to ‘21’. Police registered an FIR (NO.3/90) at police station Kralkhud against atrocious mob. But it makes no mention of the police and CRPF action.
21 years on, the case has been closed and he culprits have been declared ‘untraceable’.

How I Became a Stone-Pelter...

I am from downtown Srinagar born in 1991. I was admitted to one of the best school of valley. As a child I had dream to become engineer. Whenever somebody used to ask me about my aim I would proudly say engineer. As I started to grow up I started to become familiar with many words which everyone used to talk about that among them few were "azadi" (freedom), "hartal" (shutdown) but I was unable to understand the meaning of these words. I loved the word hartal as it was holiday, so I always wished for hartal. As I grew up I came to know about mujahids. I used to listen to the stories of mujahids. I would often ask my elders to tell me about mujahids. They told me stories of many mujahids like Isaaq, Ishfaq, and Jan Malik which I liked to share with my friends. 

Even I was named after a Shaheed Mujahid (martyr fighter) who was killed before few weeks I was born. Then Came the summer of 2007, I was passing by Nowhatta, It was month of Muharram. There was heavy stone pelting going on. I found it very interesting. I saw youth pelting stones and shouting freedom slogans. Initially I was afraid to go in front and pelt stones on Police and CRPF.

I used to think they are some angels fighting on the front. Days passed. Now I too had gathered guts to pelt stones on the front line. It was now 2008 I was busy with my exams. I heard about Amarnath Land Row. Things started changing very fast I had never seen kind of hartals (shutdowns) before. I had never seen kind of stone pelting before. It was totally new experience to me.

Now tear gas shell wasn't shot anymore, now bullets were fired directly. I saw many boys hit by a bullet and dying on spot. I was disturbed by this. I asked my grandfather once why they directly shoot on us. His answer was "Tse chuk mangaan azadi" (You are asking for freedom). This answer changed my mind. I started realizing neither we are part of India nor India considers us their part.

Now I started reading history about our freedom struggle. I came to know about many things about the Kashmir struggle. Now I started reading newspaper, magazines very keenly. I started observing everything about the political system. I wept when I read about Gawkadal, Zukura, Hawal, Bijbihara, Sopore, Kupwara massacres. I too wanted to become Mujahid.
I once joked with my mother that I will become Mujahid, her answer was pain full, first give me poison then you will become Mujahid.
Came 2009 I again started to remain busy with my studies but whenever there was stone pelting in Nowahatta I used go there and pelt stones. Stone pelting for me now, has become a reaction to the atrocities and d illegal occupation of India. I do it for a cause.

I was once caught by police and was put in custody I was also beaten but that also couldn't break me. When I was released I again started pelting stones. A policemen in custody told me why you pelt stones, do you think you will get freedom by pelting stones. If it is the case I am also ready to pelt stones, he said.
But still it is the only thing which makes me feel that gun or bullet cannot suppress my thoughts my sentiments and to live in occupied I want to be free....

I am happy when I pelt stones because I want to take revenge for every innocent killing. I know my stone wont harm them but remember it is not stone it is my feelings. I pelt stones because we are oppressed.

It was June 2009 Shopian rape had occurred. It was unbearable to hear rape and murder case of a girl and her sister in law. Tears rolled from my eyes when I read story of Asiya in newspaper. Once again hartals, stone pelting emerged with more boys felling to bullets to a response for protesting for justice from brutal Indian military.

I watched a press conference of Omar Abdullah on news channel promising to bring culprits in front of people and punish them in 24 hors. Honestly I was happy with his promise I saw a hope in him in bringing justice to the duo.
But nothing happened instead of justice their relatives were beaten. This made me more aggressive I wanted to take revenge, I wanted to punish murderers. More ever I considered cm for all this because his behaviour made me much aggressive much angry against India and their brutality here.

After one month of continuous strikes life was back on track. Again we started to remain busy with our studies.
But I always used to think why didn’t the duo got justice I once had seen news of a 14 year old girl from Delhi who was killed by unknown person in her bedroom. But Police wasn’t able to solve the case. It was then handed over to CBI who arrested the culprits in few weeks.

But in case of Kashmir CBI solved the case differently they didn’t arrested the culprits but made a funny story of the victims that they died due to drowning in stream whose depth was hardly unto knees. This clearly showed policy of India in Kashmir.

But whom could I ask these questions why didn’t they get justice? Why they shoot us if we protest for seeking justice? These questions always were in my mind. By pelting stones I dint got answer but I was happy I felt I am taking revenge by pelting stones but what else I could do who was their to listen me. I felt satisfaction by pelting stones by pelting stones I wanted to say them give us justice leave our Kashmir let us leave in peace let us live in place where no mother has fear that her son may return dead. These are not stones these are my feelings.

Came 2010 it was January once I saw Wamiq Farooq, He was a neighbour of one of my relatives residing at Rainawari area of Srinagar. Wamiq was very good boy he used to offer my times prayers. He used to call me bhai (brother).
After few weeks on one Friday evening I heard that a boy has been martyred after hitting by tear gas shell but I didn’t know unfortunately it was Wamiq the same guy whom I had seen before a day. When I woke up next morning I saw a picture of boy whose identity was yet to be revealed in newspaper. After few minutes I got call from my cousin that Wamiq has been martyred. For few minutes I totally froze I wasn’t able to speak. A boy hardly 13 was no more. You can understand how it feels when you hear death of person whom you know.

Wamiq was like my little brother I had never thought an innocent young boy will fell prey to their brutality. Once again hartals (strikes) and stone pelting emerged with more boys getting injured and martyred. Indian occupational forces were responding with more brutality, they are occupational forces their cruelty and brutality is not a surprise to us but I was surprised by the role of Jammu and Kashmir police our local police they are playing absurd role. One fails to understand the cause of their cruelty and brutality, Is it they want to show more loyalty to India or they are killing their brothers for money. What ever the reason is but the way they behave with their own countrymen is painful. Maybe they have became blind because of power government has given to them.

Wamiq's death gave birth to a powerful revolution. The revolution shook the existence of Indian rule in Kashmir. Now India started to show their military power to unarmed civilians. The way they deal with protests is answer to those people who call India integral part of Kashmir.

India has started to engage its every front to curb this revolution from politically to technically even media is being used to curb this revolution.
Streets of Kashmir have become red with the blood of innocent people. Jhelum has become red with blood of innocent people.

I know one day may be I will also fell to their bullets even I am mentally prepared for that because I have attained extreme limit of stone pelting. But remember my death will give birth to hundreds of kale kharab (hotheads). As I became kale kharab (hothead) after death of innocent boys from last three years. 65 deaths have already given birth to hundreds of kale kharab (hot head) who are ready to fight till their last breath. These kale kharab (hothead) are present at every corner of Kashmir. What ever will the future of present intifada but the struggle to free Kashmir will continue even if takes 100 more years. Next generation will produce more dangerous kale kharabs (hot heads) to free Kashmir.

The Author is Anonymous

Adil Ramzan Sheikh was Dragged and Killed

In a summer that saw 100 people dead in an equal number of days, more than 2000 injured, inhumane restrictions on movement of people, and a gagged media, many stories went unreported. Like that of Adil Ramazan Sheikh, a teenager hailing from Palhalan Pattan, who was allegedly pulled out from a hospital bed and executed at the hospital gates.

In the myriad tragedies that hit Kashmir this year, Adil’s killing was just one. Just one of 125. Despite the fact that the circumstances of his death stood out, his story was lost in the heap of events. Rather than becoming the biggest story of the year, it remained an under reported one. No investigation was convened to look into the circumstances of his killing.

On July 30, the volatile Pattan town heated up, with the news of two people having been killed in police firing earlier in the day in Sopore. Protestors gathered on the highway after Friday prayers and engaged police and paramilitary in stone pelting clashes. Thirteen-year-old Adil could hear the sound of teargas and gunfire at his home in Palhalan, some two kilometers from the spot.

Adil’s father Muhammad Ramazan Sheikh still remembers the sequence of events that followed.

“We were at home, when we heard the gunfire and teargas at around 3pm. We came to know that demonstrations are going on at Pattan market. Many people from the village rushed to join in,” says Sheikh who also rushed toward the spot along with his son.

The duo and other people from the village were stopped at the highway, a mile short of the hotspot.

“As people from this side were stopped at the junction, they began to raise slogans there. Adil was with me. After a while, he and a few kids, taking the advantage of their age, sneaked through the police barrier to join the protestors in the market,” Sheikh said.

Sheikh returned home after some time. At 5.30 pm, he received a call on his cell phone.

“It was a doctor calling from Hospital (Sub District Hospital Pattan). He told me that my son is injured and that I should come to hospital,” Sheikh recalls.
Sheikh rushes towards the highway again. By now, he finds that posse of paramilitary at the junction has gained strength. He is not allowed to move towards hospital. He waits.

What Sheikh comes to know later, is that after reaching the market, Adil and his friends had apparently been jeering at some paramilitary men.

Adil is fired upon and falls injured. His friends try to pick him up but they are chased away.

“They (friends) had not been able to pick him up themselves, so they requested some women standing there to get Adil towards them. The women did, and Adil was taken to the hospital,” said Sheikh.

The Sub District Hospital Pattan is just a few paces from the main market. It has two gates, one on front side the other on back side. The two gates open into two different alleys, both of which lead to the highway at Pattan market.

The clashes in the town that day saw the hospital getting flooded with injured, as well as with people trying to save themselves the wrath of troopers.

Around 6pm Sheikh was still at the crowded junction, hoping to find a way to reach the hospital. He gets another call.

“It was the doctor again. He told me that CRPF had raided the hospital and were beating everybody there. They (staff) were hiding, he told me,” said Sheikh.

The caller, whom Sheikh doesn’t want to name, tells him that he doesn’t know about the status of his son, for now. Sheikh grows impatient, but cannot break through the police cordon. He waits. A few minutes later he gets another call from the same doctor.

“They have fired on him again. He is dead.” Sheikh is told this time.

A shattered Sheikh is still unable to make it to the hospital, though his priority has changed from seeing his injured son to bringing his body home. After repeated unsuccessful attempts to make it to hospital, he returns home, now waiting for friends and neighbours at the hospital to bring the body home.

There are barely any records of the tumultuous events of the day at the Pattan Hospital. BMO Pattan denied that anyone had been killed in the hospital. But he admitted that paramilitary CRPF raided that hospital that day, beat up patients, attendants, and even some staff. Asked if they had filed any complaint with the police, he replied in negative.

“I only report to my CMO,” he added.

But, despite official denials, almost everybody in the hospital knows the story.

Wishing anonymity, the staff told Kashmir Life that CRPF ran amok in the hospital beating anybody who came in the way.

“They manhandled a female nurse, beat up injured patients, removed their intravenous drips, and pulled off Adil Ramazan from his bed over there,” said a doctor pointing to a far end corner bed in the ward. Adil, he said, had a leg injury, when he was first brought to the hospital.

“After pulling him from his bed, they (CRPF) took him along. He was then fired outside the hospital gate,” he said. In the street, outside the gates, where Adil was killed, a number of protestors convened and brought Adil back to the hospital.

“This time he had been shot in the chest. He was dead already,” the doctor said.

Hospital records, however, do not mention the whole sequence. There is no record of Adil’s admission the first time. It only records him as being admitted with a fatal chest injury, which killed him. There is an error with the date too, in the records, which mention 31 June instead of 30.

A hospital source explained that when the injured boys were being brought to the hospital in the first place, they insisted on getting medical attention without admission slips.

Sheikh and his family had to wait longer for Adil’s body. Many people had assembled at the hospital and were trying to take the body to his home in Palhalan. Witnesses said they were not allowed to move on the main road. After some unsuccessful attempts the protestors took out Adil’s body on a hospital bed, and carried it on their shoulders. They then waded through the rice fields, walking more than six kilometers carrying the body and reached Sheikh’s home by midnight.

The next day newspaper reports, some of which didn’t get his name right said he was killed during clashes in Pattan.

Sheikh says he has never visited the hospital since, not even to get the records, nor has hopes of a police investigation. A fact finding independent team of Indian civil society has demanded an investigation into the circumstances of Adil’s killing. The team comprised of academic Bela Bhatia, advocate Vrinda Grover, journalist Sukumar Muralidharan and activist Ravi Hemadri of The Other Media, described the attack on hospital as a violation of International Humanitarian Law.

“Whatever the truth about the events that led to Adil’s death, there is little question that Pattan hospital on July 30 suffered an attack which by all acknowledged covenants, puts the CRPF and all other elements party to it, under the cloud of a serious crime. This constitutes a clear violation of International Humanitarian Law, and calls for an urgent and impartial investigation”: the team report (KASHMIR LIFE)

and we know what happens to these investigations and probes.

Heart Crushing Documentary of Kashmir 2010

I don't have words to describe what they say for my heart is bleeding...

PART ONE: ANANTNAG (ISLAMABAD)






PART TWO : SRINAGAR

Jan 6, 1993: A town torched by Sameer Bhat

There was sound of a huge bang that morning, like someone blowing up a cartful of dynamite. Just before the cockcrow. Most of the townspeople were asleep. The dawn prayers had thin attendance, mostly because it gets very cold in January. By nine o’clock a military patrol was out, doing rounds of the main marketplace. Suddenly gunmen emerged from a narrow alley and shot random bullets at the party before quickly disappearing in the maze that old Sopore is. Taken rather off guard, the security detail ran back to their barracks only to emerge again as Frankenstein’s monsters, spitting hell fire. In the next fifty odd minutes, they murdered fifty five people in cold blood. And burnt the town down.

Even after all these years nobody knows for sure what transformed the BSF party into the heartless creatures that they became -- that cold January morning. Hapless people, trapped in flames, had only two choices to make and both, it turned out, cost them dearly. Stepping out of their shops meant getting bumped off on the spot. Those who hid in their shops were roasted alive. Many people who were killed on January 6, 1993, were buried without their families being able to see them one last time. The dead bodies had faces -- that smiled, loved and beamed a few hours back -- too disfigured to be kissed a final good bye. Monsters seldom heed tears.

An unfortunate bus, half-full with passengers, on its way to Sopore got caught up in the frenzy. The driver oblivious to the savagery of the 94th battalion BSF was flagged down. Soon charcoal gray powder blew into the vehicle. Terrified passengers froze in their seats, their hands still inside their Pherans. A stash of gunfire lit the bus up. The ill-starred men and women banged at the window-panes, begging to be let out, but their screams met no saviors. The nearby shops were burning in maroon fire with real people in them. A hundred thousand books in the local women’s college were turning to dark dust in the library. The foot soldiers of the world’s largest democracy looked on with a ghoulish glee.

Entire families were wiped out. A respected Sufi Pir [spiritual man] lost six members of his immediate and extended family. His two grandsons, two nephews and two cousins. The old man was unwell in his bed when news of the doom came. Women began to pull their hair out and grown-up men wept inconsolably in his mud-and-brick three storey home, often frequented by devotees. Later when the corpses of all the six young men were lined up in the lawn, someone asked the Sufi if he wanted to come out and have a last look at the lads. ‘Oh yes’, the old man said and as someone walked him outside he whispered in the most feeble voice, ‘I had a dream last night and they told me that we shall take you to hear things I never imagined. I think this is the Taebeer [interpretation]’.

I feel somewhat uneasy writing this, recalling mostly from memory, from the pastiches of ugly nightmares of growing up in Kashmir of the 90’s. Ofcourse I was too young to comprehend how people in flesh and blood could get so godawful and burn fellow humans alive. It smelled of fear and flesh. We heard the wails coming from a distance. That evening the smoke’s twist was awfully slow.

In memoriam

To my fellow townspeople,

cut to merciless death on January 6, 1993.

We remember you.

© Sameer

Sopore Massacre 1993:"The memories of this incident will haunt me till I am alive"

“PERHAPS THERE IS A SPECIAL CORNER IN HELL Reserved for soldiers who fire their weapons indiscriminately into a crowd of unarmed civilians. That, at least, must have been the hope of every resident who defied an army-enforced curfew in the Kashmiri town of Sopore last Thursday to protest a massacre that left 55 people dead and scores injured. It was India's latest blow in a three-year campaign to crush the predominantly Muslim state's bid for independence. In retaliation for the killing of one soldier, paramilitary forces rampaged through Sopore's market setting buildings ablaze and shooting bystanders. The Indian government pronounced the event "unfortunate" and claimed that an ammunition dump had been hit by gunfire, setting off fires that killed most of the victims” said the TIME Magazine in a column on Jan. 18, 1993.
The history of Kashmir is replete with blood-curdling massacres perpetrated by security forces of which the wounds of infamous Sopore carnage are still fresh in the hearts of the aggrieved families. 17 years on, the government enquiry into the massacre has yielded nothing.

Incidentally, the incident occurred one month after the Babri Masjid was demolished by Hindutva mobs in Ayodhya.
It was Wednesday chilly morning of January 6, 1993 when Border Security Forces (BSF) went berserk at around 9.30 am killing around 75 unarmed civilians including women and children, wounding nearly 300 people and property worth crores was completely gutted in the apple town of Sopore. On the fateful day, more than 300 people were injured in the tragic incident.
The innocent civilians were either shot dead or charred to death alive by the BSF personnel in order to avenge the death of a trooper who was killed when the BSF picket at Baba Yousuf Lane near the main street of Sopore town was attacked by militants just one hour before the mayhem occurred. The militants had also taken away the light machine gun of the trooper as he fell before absconding from the spot.
According to many eye-witnesses of the incident, the BSF personnel had publicly announced that they would teach the people a lesson for the killing of one soldier by the militants. At around 9.30 am, in retaliation to the killing of the trooper, the BSF personnel came out of their camps in and around Sopore and smashed almost everything which came their way. They resorted to indiscriminate firing and resorted to arson soon which is believed to be the biggest of its kind since the turmoil hit the valley in 1988.
The BSF jawans sprinkled gun powder along the market and set ablaze about 100 houses and 300 shops including Women's degree college and Samad Talkies. The carnage continued for around two hours. The firemen who had rushed to the spot were not allowed to extinguish the flames and had to wait for two hours to start the fire-fighting operations. Flames and thick clouds of smoke from the fire-ravaged structures were billowing out till late evening, the local residents recall. The maximum casualties were reported due to the fire and firing incidents.
The troopers fired upon the passengers of an SRTC passenger bus, JKZ -1901 which was leaving for Bandipora and set the bus on fire after dousing it with gunpowder and in the process killing its 26 occupants. No passenger was allowed to come out of the vehicles when the bus was subjected to heavy firing, according to the eyewitnesses. Similarly, all the passengers of a car, JK 6075 were also charred to death. They also showered bullets on the father and son who were loading goods onto their truck in the Iqbal market leading to their on-the-spot death.
An eyewitness of the massacre who had miraculously survived the gruesome incident narrated how the angry troopers rampaged through the main market, went for a frenzied searching spree in every shop to prey on their catch and sprinkled the gun powder on the shops so that there was least possibility of the survival of the hapless victims.
While recollecting the horrendous incident, he added, "I was not mustering courage to step out of my shop on seeing the troopers who were running here and there, firing indiscriminately on the people on all sides. Suddenly a trooper entered into my shop and cocked his gun. But before he could fire the bullet at me, I offered him a brief case containing heavy cash. While he got engaged in counting the money, I somehow managed to escape from the spot amidst the firing."
Many eyewitnesses of the gory incident said how the jawans brutally consigned people including children to flames. "I cannot forget the heart-rending incident when a trooper snatched a small child from the lap of a woman and threw it into the flames. As the mother of the child started shouting the trooper killed the woman on-the-spot by firing several rounds of bullets on her. The memories of this incident will haunt me till I am alive," said an eyewitness and survivor of the carnage who was watching this dastardly act from a distance.
Intriguingly, the state government in Jammu did not know about the developments in Sopore till 4 pm. It was only on account of some queries made by some press persons that the authorities began to make their own enquiries.
It took several days to the relatives of the victims in removing the charred bodies from the fire-ravaged structured including shops, houses and government buildings. Curfew restrictions in the town, inclement weather and police action on the protesting family members and close relatives of the victims, who were engaged in removing the charred bodies from the gutted areas, rendered the task of tracing the bodies of their kith and kin difficult.
Most of the charred bodies were mutilated beyond recognition. The close relatives who had also come from Bandipora, Pattan and Baramulla found it hard to identify the victims. "The only portion that had survived was the arm of my father; rest of the body was completely burnt. We could recognize his charred body with the help of the piece of jacket on his arm," said the son of the deceased. In Srinagar, instant strike was observed in response to the indefinite bandh call given by JKLF supported by many other militant outfits.
The media persons who rushed to the spot the next day saw Kangris (fire pots) and belongings of the people scattered on the roads and streets of the town with blood splattered all over. Remains of the charred vehicles lay in the middle of the road as mute witness to the gory incident. A team of 300 doctors from SKIMS hospital, Soura who had went to relief operations were reportedly reluctantly allowed by the army and paramilitary forces inside the town. Defying curfew restrictions, about 5000 residents of Sopore and Baramulla took out processions. Police resorted to teargas shelling and cane charging to disperse the demonstrators injuring scores of people including women and children. Similar demonstrations were held in Srinagar, Pulwama and Budgam.
The state authorities put the toll at 40. While the official handout circulated to the media claimed that the fire broke out due to some explosive material dumped in the market hit by the gun fire, the then governor, Girish Chandra Saxena, while expressing grief over the loss of precious lives in a special broadcast on Radio Kashmir next evening had said that the 40 persons died in the backdrop of heavy exchange of fire between militants and security forces. The official handout further read that the 'Operation Goodwill' which had been initiated by Indian government to wean off the massive public support to the militants those days had met its fate acompli due to the horrendous incident.
Saxena, who had visited Spore a day after the incident along with other high rung officials, announced an exgratia payment of Rs one lakh to the next of kins of those killed in the tragedy and 50 per cent, subject to maximum loss of property to those rendered homeless. The state government also claimed to have suspended an inspector and two sub-inspectors of the BSF involved in the Sopore massacre.
Owing to the mounting pressure and widespread condemnation from various quarters, the state government ordered judicial probe by a sitting High Court judge into the incident. The director general of the BSF also ordered a parallel BSF staff inquiry into the incident under the BSF Act. The then Jamat-e-Islami leader, Syed Ali Shah Geelani, termed the probe as an "eyewash" and called for boycott of compensation and any government probe which received a tremendous positive response from the aggrieved families.
A Sopore Commission headed by Justice Chaudhary was set up by the state government to probe into the killings, gutting of the property, quantum of force used by the security personnel on the duty, fixing of responsibility and to suggest remedial measures to prevent the recurrence of such events. The commission, however, failed to prove its efficiency in the wake of laid-back attitude by the Justice Chaudhary and finally the Sopore probe panel drew blank. The case was later handed over to Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) but years later the subsequent investigations are still inconclusive.
Afzal Sofi, son of late Abdul Majid Sofi, 36, the one among those passengers killed by heavy firing on the SRTC bus on the fateful day, is still waiting for the punitive action against the guilty. Before leaving from the house for his duty in Baramulla, Abdul Majid, who was government employee at Handloom Corporation in Bandipora, had given few coins to his nine-year-old son for the candies.
Perplexed by the news of the incident, Afzal, now a youth in twenties, recalls how pall of gloom had descended on his family. "Our neighbours were trying effortlessly to pacify us, but to no avail. Suddenly one of our neighbours sitting on the roof of her house yelled, "Lo! There he comes." On hearing this I immediately ran to the main gate to receive my father and spread my little arms around his affectionate shoulders. As I opened the door, I saw hoards of people carrying the dead body of my father to my utter shock. I was completely broken," said Afzal as he was sobbing.
"Looking at the experiences of the fate of previous inquiries ordered by the government, we do not have any hopes that the justice would be done," he added. (KASHMIR TIMES)

The local residents regard the incident as one of the worst massacres in the history of Kashmir.

“I cannot forget that horrendous incident till I am alive; the troops were on rampage; I lost two relatives in the incident,” said Ali Muhammad, an eyewitness and survivor of the carnage. “I wonder can doomsday be worse,”

The mayhem continued for more than two hours with people—helpless and hopeless—watching the devastation from a distance. None from the civil administration or Fire Service Department were allowed to the rescue of the hapless people. Only the valor and heroism of the local populace made its appearance, helping each other. In one hour, the locals recovered the dead bodies of more than 50 civilians and miraculously rescued many more.

"Some fifteen civilians who tired to rescue their brethren were also shot dead by the troopers", said Abdul Majid, a survivor. Ghulam Nabi Bhat of New Light Hotel shouldered 11 dead bodies and before he could carry the 12th, he too was shot dead.,” he added.
The dead

Victims included:

* Abdul Majid Sofi, 35, S/o Muhammad Shafi R/o Krankshiwan
* Abdur Rashid War S/o Ghulam Muhammad War R/o Tujarsherief, Sopore
* Abdul Khaliq Malik S/o Ghulam Mohi-ud-Din R/o Arampora
* Abdul Ahad Kanjwal R/o Muslimpeer
* Abdul Ahad Shalla R/o Shallapora
* Abdur Rashid Sofi S/o Abdul Jabbar R/o Wanagam, Bandipora
* Abdul Ahad Liloo,70, S/o Baba Yousuf, Sopore
* Abdur Razaq Chalkoo S/o Ghulam Muhammad
* Bashir Ahmad Shalla S/o Ghulam Rasool R/o Shallapora, Sopore
* Farooq Ahmad Banday S/o Abdur Rashid R/o Sangrampora, Sopore
* Ghulam Nabi Zargar alias Shaheen S/o Qadir Joo R/o Badamibagh Sopore
* Ghulam Muhammad War S/o Muhammad Sultan R/o Tujarshrief
* Ghulam Nabi Bhat S/o Haji Abdullah R/o Sangrampora
* Gulzar Ahmad Sheikh S/o Muhammad Abdullah R/o Shahabad Sopore
* Ghulam Mohi-Ud-Din S/o Assadullah R/o Nathpora, Bandipora
* Ghulam Rasool Sofi S/o Muhammad. Sultan R/o Langate Handwara
* Ghulam Muhammad Khan S/o Bandipora
* Ghulam Muhammad Hajam S/o Abdul Gaffar R/o Mohallah Hajampora,
* Mohd Hussain R/o Tawheed gunj Baramulla

Our History of Kashmir has been filled with gut wrenching stories of Massacres. The Sopore Massacre is the worst act ever done against the Humanity, which would even put Genghis Khan to Shame. The Courts may have delayed and ultimately denied the Justice to the victims, the people giving shelter to the barbarians by outrightly denying any involvement but the wounds are still to be healed. The Kashmiris will never wake up from this inhumane nightmare, the screams and the cries are still heard in the Sky. Almighty is watching the oppressed and the helpless. For Justice and Freedom will arrive.