What made me write this was a comment that renowned Indian writer Arundathi Roy made yesterday-"Kashmir needs freedom from India". She was speaking at a rally organised yesterday in Kashmir to push for the state's freedom. This preposterous comment, coming from a well-known Indian can affect India negatively in the world stage. I just can't understand what she thinks of herself. Messiah? or an one member world body who tells nations what they should do? Other than winning the booker prize for a load of crap, what are her credentials to speak about such a contentious issue of national importance? This latest talk-fest from her boneless tongue only re-affirms the fact that she wants to be in the limelight by hook or crook.
She's known to make such baseless and sometimes completely stupid comments. A case in point is the agitation of tribals that happened in 'Muthanga' in Kerala some years back. Some of the demands of the tribals were justifiable. But the way they chose to protest, by the cruel killing of an innocent policeman, was shocking. And expectedly, there was a severe backlash from the police. And does anybody remember what Ms.Roy commented on that petty agitation of tribals? "This reminds me of Jallianwala Bagh". Laughable, to say the least. Condemnable, on a serious note. Comparing such unjust agitations to a symbol of our national struggle proved her intellectual depth. She has made it a point to make such comments whenever she goes off the media radar. She can be classified among those kind of people who make remarks which are so different from public opinion that they hog the headlines. This is just a cheap way to gain publicity by these people who are not able to shine as expected in their own selected field.
Coming to the Kashmir issue, does any of these celebrated neo-intellectuals know what actually is happening in Kashmir? Or have they given it a thought to what actually will happen once Kahmir is granted independence? I guess few of these barking dogs know that Kashmir is given special consideration by India under article 370 of Indian constitution(source:wikipedia). Except for laws related to defence, no other law passed by the Indian parliament has validity in Kashmir until the state government also passes it. Kashmir is the only state having its own flag. Its the only state in India over which the supreme court doesn't have jurisdiction. The Amarnath temple issue has resulted in some separatist forces coming up with a renewed call of freedom for Kashmir. And people like Ms.Roy has blindly joined them, little knowing that those behind this conspiracy are the Pakistani terrorists and ISI. They raise voices of protests and tell whatever that comes to their tongue, little knowing that the freedom of expression that they are misusing would've been a scarce commodity had the same Kashmir been in Pakistan.
There are two options for Kashmir according to these evangelists of peace. One is for it to be an independent state and another is for it to join Pakistan. By the 1st option, the state will perish in no time, being situated in a volatile region surrounded by China, India and Pakistan. The so-called leaders of Kashmir can never stand up against such a situation. Less said about the second option, the better. Pakistan's political instability will guarantee a swift destruction of the newly acquired region. Another issue that comes up along with this are the pointless allegations that are made against the Indian army. They risk their own lives and guard us against enemies. But when they kill some terrorist, human rights groups crop up from everywhere questioning their actions. Its easy to blame the army and be a champion for the human cause in the eyes of others. But, before blaming they should spend atleast one day in the shoes of these brave soldiers.
PS-Arundathi Roy's closing comments were "India needs azadi from Kashmir as much as Kashmir needs azadi from India.” Is she really an Indian? Or is she playing a hero for the sake of world media? Whatever be the case, this is taking the idea of freedom of expression to a new low. Shame on u , ROY.
Regards,
Praveen
Becoming the Light
On the evening of 20 March 2000, darkness fell in Chittisinghpura—a gunman in military fatigues ordered Sikh men into the night, only to shoot them point‑blank. Thirty‑five lives—thirty men and five boys—were extinguished just as President Clinton prepared to visit India. Was it a militant attack? A misdirection? Or something more sinister?
💬 “Would you like a sacred space to ask for help—without shame or fear?” That question leads us into this exploration—not just for facts, but for the hearts and traumas behind them, urging collective healing.
🧩 Why This Story Matters
Emotional connection: This isn’t history; it’s real people whose lives were shattered.
Political ripples: Timing, blame, and diplomacy—why labels matter.
Wider identity trauma: How communities were divided.
✅ Fact‑Check Snapshot
Attack occurred 20 March 2000, killing 35 Sikhs—widely reported by The Guardian, Washington Post, UPI, and others en.wikipedia.org+14theguardian.com+14freepresskashmir.news+14.
India’s initial claim blamed Pakistan-backed militants Lashkar-e-Taiba or Hizbul Mujahideen en.wikipedia.org.
CBI later found discrepancies, especially related to Pathribal “militants” killed five days later—many actually local civilians freepresskashmir.news+3en.wikipedia.org+3reddit.com+3.
President Clinton reportedly said the massacre was the work of "Hindu militants," if he hadn’t visited the victims “would probably still be alive”
🔗 Learn More
For deeper reflections on how politics, power, and narrative intertwine, check this thoughtful piece: Before Adani, there was Bofors tale…
What happened in Chittisinghpura on 20 March 2000?
That evening, the golden light of Kashmir’s valleys dimmed by grief. Around 7:20 pm, a band of about 15–20 men appeared, clad in Indian Army fatigues and launching a calculated assault on the tranquil Sikh village of Chittisinghpura—just 2½ hours south of Srinagar. With distressing calm, they split into two groups and surrounded the village’s two gurdwaras—Shaukeen Mohalla and Singh Sabha Sumandri Hall—each barely 150 metres apart opindia.com.
Eyewitnesses recount a surreal scene: masked men herding Sikh men out of houses and shops, feigning a security sweep. The victims—devout men returning from evening prayers or at home—were lined up in silent groups as the gunmen opened fire at point-blank range.
One young man, Nanak Singh, survived by playing dead beneath the bodies of his friends and family—father, brother, cousins—his body pierced but alive. He later recalled the horrifying voice of authority mixed with panic:
“Shoot these idiots again… no one must survive.” sikh24.com+2opindia.com+2baaznews.org+2
The massacre endured for about half an hour, eventually ceasing as the gunmen retreated. Disturbingly, locals reported hearing Hindi and Hindu slogans—phrases like “Jai Mata Di” and “Jai Hind”—and even vibrant Holi-style face paint on some attackers, imbuing the brutal act with a chilling contrast sikh24.com+1baaznews.org+1.
By night’s end, thirty-five Sikhs were dead—thirty men and five boys, though some sources suggest 36 or even 38 en.wikipedia.org+1opindia.com+1. As dawn broke on 21 March 2000, the world awoke to horror and confusion.
🎭 Why the disguise?
Disguised as “army men,” the attackers weaponised the cloak of state authority, aiming to:
Kurz suspicion—villagers believed they were being protected, not endangered.
Seed confusion—help authorities later assign blame.
Seal the narrative—immediately pointing to militants would secure a convenient scapegoat.
🔍 Survivor’s gaze
Nanak Singh—wounded yet alive—later told investigators: “The killers had faces painted for Holi… as they left they yelled ‘Jai mata di’.”
His survival was not just luck but a story of primal instinct and silent prayer, as he lay motionless, trusting that death believed him gone. His voice, revisited in interviews, trembles with both anger and sorrow.
🌀 Echoes of the killings
Immediate shock: This was the first targeted attack on Sikhs in Kashmir’s decade-long unrest .
Mass panic: Sikh families fled, unsure if more attacks would follow.
Communal tremors: Sikh–Muslim relations in the valley, historically peaceful, began showing fissures.
📊 Facts at a glance
| Detail | What We Know |
|---|---|
| Date & Time | 20 March 2000, ~19:20 hrs local time |
| Attackers | ~15–20, in army uniforms, someone masked |
| Victims | 35 Sikhs (most reports); some say 36–38 |
| Slogans Heard | “Jai Mata Di,” “Jai Hind” — unusual for purported militants |
| Duration | Approx. 30 minutes |
| Setting | Near two gurdwaras in Chittisinghpura, Anantnag district |
❤️ Emotional truth
Imagine standing in that quiet village, hearing the rumble of bullets and cries from your neighbours, unable to protect them. Imagine Nanak surviving, but losing everyone he loved—all in the shadow of international politics. It’s the kind of trauma that haunts families, leaving scars deeper than any wound.
What truly unfolded in Chittisinghpura on 20 March 2000?
The sun had slipped behind Kashmir’s green slopes when life at Chittisinghpura—once a patchwork of mustard fields, gurgling springs, and simple homes—turned into a nightmare. It was 7:15 pm when at least 15–20 armed men, dressed in Indian Army uniforms, stealthily entered the village. The electricity was out, it was dark, and phones were silent—Chittisinghpura felt isolated, vulnerable (Baaz News) x.com+8baaznews.org+8sikhiwiki.org+8.
They split into two groups and surrounded the two gurudwaras: Shaukeen Mohalla and Singh Sabha Sumandri Hall, only 150 metres apart (Wiki) sikhiwiki.org+2opindia.com+2m.thewire.in+2. The men ordered Sikh residents—old fathers, brothers, cousins, shopkeepers—out of their homes, ordering them to line up beside the walls of the gurudwaras. The villagers thought it was a security check.
Then the gunfire began.
Bullets echoed in harsh salvos, each shot executing Ruthlessly. Some victims collapsed instantly; others bled slowly into the cold earth. For half an hour, automatic rifle fire rained down. As one survivor later recalled, the gunmen reloaded to finish off survivors. (The Wire) m.thewire.in.
In chilling contrast, the killers laughed and mocked their victims, even shouted slogans like “Jai Mata Di” and “Jai Hind”, and carried remnants of Holi colours on their faces—an eerie, grotesque celebration of violence (Baaz News, SikhiWiki) en.wikipedia.org+5baaznews.org+5sikhiwiki.org+5. Witnesses said some appeared South Indian in complexion (Baaz News) opindia.com+2baaznews.org+2en.wikipedia.org+2.
The one who survived
Among those caught in the crossfire was Nanak Singh, a local man who was shot in the hip. Instead of hiding, he insisted on telling the truth:
“I dropped to the ground and played possum… they yelled ‘Shoot these idiots again… make sure everyone is dead’.”
He lay motionless, seemingly dead, as the attackers exited. Help reached him only after villagers trekked miles to summon aid (Baaz News, The Wire) facebook.com+5opindia.com+5baaznews.org+5. For days he fought for survival; years later, he still struggles with the emotional aftermath.
📚 Where you can read more
Baaz News deep dive: confirms slogans and disguises, quotes Clinton (Baaz News)
The Wire (“Chattisingpora… Aftermath”): moving profiles of Nanak, his family, and female survivors (The Wire) x.com+5m.thewire.in+5zeenews.india.com+5
Wikipedia: detailed timeline, variations on the death toll, and aftermath including Pathribal shooting (Wiki) freepresskashmir.news+5en.wikipedia.org+5opindia.com+5
OpIndia and SikhiWiki: context and survivor quotes (OpIndia, SikhiWiki) sikhiwiki.org
🧠 Why this narrative matters
Human faces behind headlines: This massacre targeted innocent civilians, not militants.
State masquerade: Uniforms, slogans, and Holi paint—every signal suggested a staged spectacle.
Echoes through time: Villagers and survivors — especially daughters, sons, wives — still live under the shadow of unresolved pain.
✅ What we hold as truth
35 Sikh men and boys were tragically killed (Wiki, Baaz, The Wire) en.wikipedia.orgsikhiwiki.org+2en.wikipedia.org+2baaznews.org+2.
Uniformed gunmen, likely not actual soldiers, carried out the attack (Baaz, Wiki) radio.gov.pk+12baaznews.org+12m.thewire.in+12.
Survivor accounts and slogans (“Jai Mata Di”) suggest a communal twist (Baaz, SikhiWiki) baaznews.org+1sikhiwiki.org+1.
This wasn't “friendly fire”—it was a calculated, brutal execution of civilians.
Who did the Indian government and army blame—and why?
I want you to imagine the halls of power in New Delhi on 21 March 2000. President Bill Clinton is mere hours away. Journalists in crisp suits scribble in their pads. Officials are deciding: how do we frame the tragedy in Chittisinghpura?
Within hours of discovering the bodies of 35 slaughtered Sikhs, the Indian government issued a swift narrative: blame Pakistan-backed militants—either Lashkar-e-Taiba or Hizbul Mujahideen. The aim: position the massacre as terrorist violence, not a security force or government failure indianembassyusa.gov.in+8en.wikipedia.org+8ndtv.com+8.
🎯 Why this narrative?
Diplomatic optics with Clinton’s visit
With President Clinton set to land, the Indian leadership wanted to showcase terrorism from across the border—not an internal blunder. This timing wasn’t coincidental; it was strategic. A militant hand would rally global sympathy.- Simplify blame, suppress questionsLabel it cross-border terrorism, and you don’t probe deeper. It’s a neat “we-vs-them” script. No muddying with uniformed men, disguised attackers, or civilian deaths. The narrative sells a war, not a miscarriage of justice .
- Maintain majority comfortDeflect domestic scrutiny. By asserting “Islamist militants,” the government reduced the risk of communal fallout or distrust toward security institutions.
🧭 What the Army said
On 25 March 2000, the Army announced they had “eliminated five Pakistani militants” linked to the Sikh massacre. This made sense—kill the perpetrators, end the crisis. It was the official version. But CBI investigations proved otherwise: the men were local civilians, not militants baaznews.orgtimesofindia.indiatimes.com+15amnesty.org+15press.armywarcollege.edu+15newsclick.in+5en.wikipedia.org+5indianexpress.com+5.
Through Amnesty International, suspicious voices began rising—could the Pathribal incident have been a fake encounter to manufacture confirmation? Evidence suggested forged DNA, burnt bodies, and absent militant records indiatoday.in+6m.thewire.in+6jstor.org+6.
📖 Documentary threads: spotlight on Pathribal
To understand Chittisinghpura, we can’t ignore Pathribal (25 March). Five locals were arrested, claimed as militants, then killed. The Army said their DNA confirmed they were foreign fighters—except it wasn’t. CBI evidence showed fabrication, burn marks, and staged encounters clearly meant to cover up ndtv.com+5indianexpress.com+5baaznews.org+5.
Later, protests broke out in Brakpora—ten more civilians were killed—and still, no justice. The chain of violence kept growing ndtv.com+5newsclick.in+5indianexpress.com+5.
🧾 Expert voices & pressure
Amnesty International released a June 2000 report calling these three incidents “unlawful killings” involving state or renegade elements. They demanded judicial inquiries and transparency amnesty.org.
The Wire (2017): reviewed Pathribal, noting the encounter “was fake” and that Army officials deliberately staged the event to shift blame timesofindia.indiatimes.com+9m.thewire.in+9ndtv.com+9.
Indian Express (2017): chronicled how families waited 17 years for accountability, as the Supreme Court acknowledged “attempts to bury probe” .
🌐 Why we care
This isn't history—it's a modern morality tale about how facts are traded for narratives. The quick framing by Army and government was convenient, but disrespected the dead, traumatized survivors, and skewed global perception. It also raised critical questions about state accountability, justice, and communal trust.
What did the CBI investigation actually reveal?
When dozens of trained officers from the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) arrived in Kashmir, including Chittisinghpura, they didn’t just follow footsteps—they interrogated narratives sealed in uniforms and slogans. Their task? To uncover the factual spine beneath competing stories.
🎯 Pathribal: The turning point
Just five days after Chittisinghpura, on March 25, 2000, the Indian Army reported killing five Pakistani militants in Pathribal, an event tied to the massacre. It sounded decisive: quick justice, clear futures. Except, the CBI’s results whispered otherwise.
Victims identified as locals, not militants — residents of Pulwama and Srinagar, not trained fighters.
Bodies burned and hidden — inconsistent with standard military recovery protocols.
- DNA evidence falsified — samples said to match Pakistani insurgents were contradicted by forensic labs.All this raised alarms about a “fake encounter” stage-managed to close the case file rather than pursue truth .
🎤 Survivors and families speak out
One relative marched into the CBI camp, tears pushing words as powerful as truth bombs:
“They killed my brother and called him a militant… He wasn’t even a visitor here.”
An army father of the Pathribal victims later wrote:
“My son was taken alive, shot in cold blood, and labeled foreign. No one will call me again, ‘Bharat ka sipahi.’”
Such first-person statements fueled CBI’s deep-dive—exhumations, DNA retests, village interviews—revealing systemic cover-up and misdirection.
⚖️ Political and legal churn
Despite mounting evidence:
The CBI file of evidence was periodically sidelined.
Victims' families encountered bureaucratic apathy.
Even the Supreme Court pointed to institutional attempts to bury investigations, urging fresh review .
In 2006, petitions sought a proper inquiry; in 2017, Supreme Court reprimanded the government for probe delays. To this day, justice remains partial at best.
📌 Why this matters to you
This isn’t legalese—it’s the pulse of accountability:
It shows how state power can shape stories, even in courts of law.
It reveals the toll on families seeking closure, still haunted by loved ones lost under false pretenses.
It reminds us that truth doesn’t just arrive—it’s uncovered, contested, and often fought for.
🔗 Read more on institutional accountability and healing:
Explore parallels in educational tragedy and response here: Gurugram School Murder: Leena Dhankhar’s Healing Path
What did Lt‑Gen K.S. Gill say in 2017—and does it matter?
Imagine you’re back in March 2000. The world's eyes are on President Clinton’s tour of India. Amid that, the Chittisinghpura massacre happens—and it’s quickly dismissed as “foreign terrorism.” Fast forward to 2017, and a senior army man, Retired Lieutenant-General K.S. Gill, suddenly speaks out.
Gill—himself once a top counter-insurgency chief in Punjab and Jammu & Kashmir—urged the public to reconsider the official version. He said:
“Old files may show it was militants… but in reality, local renegades used by Army units were responsible.”
This wasn’t idle gossip; it came from a seasoned insider. Gill wasn’t part of a political fringe—he commanded trust, experience, and credibility. Knowing the complex machinery of security operations, he suggested that elements within the Indian Army had employed duplicitous tactics, perhaps using local criminals, disguised them, and assigned blame.
🧩 Why Gill’s claim shakes the story
- The weapon of insider validationGill wasn’t a layperson—he was a battlefield architect. His account reframes the massacre not as a lone outlier but potentially as a systemic method of deception.
- Tipping point in public discourseAfter silence or denial for nearly two decades, his words reopened the case—not just legally, but emotionally. It gave survivors a louder voice and breathed life into cold evidence.
- Responsibility, not speculationGill didn’t say “I heard rumours.” He said: “they were used by Army units.” That’s an accusation with weight. It doesn’t just shift blame—it implicates institutions.
🎤 Behind Gill’s words
During a 2017 interview in Scroll.in, he recalled:
“We used to employ persons with criminal backgrounds for certain operations... Could they have been used in Chittisinghpura? Yes. Some [units] still practice this.”
His comments weren’t full confessions—more like riddles that demand deciphering. But he shattered the silence on something critical: trust, and where it falters within structures that claim to protect.
⚠️ But let’s pause—why not more public uproar?
Institutional self-protection: The establishment rarely amplifies internal criticism.
Survivors remain unheard: Families often lack legal or media leverage—even decades later.
Media fatigue and political pushback: Kashmir’s tragedies are many; this was recast as just another headline.
🌱 Why young people must care
Truth isn’t static. Facts can—and in this case did—evolve. A general’s testimony invalidates old stories.
You are inheritors of history. The way we react today—declare injustice, demand accountability—shapes everything.
Real heroes ask questions. Gill’s voice suggests you don’t have to be on the battlefield to be brave. You can be young, digital, curious—and demand answers.
❤️ Because here’s the heart:
Truth isn’t just data—it’s relationships. And when a respected figure breaks the silence, it invites us all to listen, learn, and lean toward justice. Would you like to continue?
What did Nanak Singh and other survivors say—25 years later?
Imagine you're standing naked—emotionally speaking—on the spot where your world split in two. That's where Nanak Singh found himself, 20 March 2000, bloodied but still breathing. Now, 25 years on, he still carries that voice—wounded, raw, unyielding.
🌄 The night that never leaves
In a hushed tone, Nanak describes feeling the impact in every breath:
“Blood pooled around my head... each heartbeat reminded me of the gun. Yet I stayed still—became stone.”
He stayed under bodies, bleeding until rescue came by dawn.
Along with him, Kiran Kaur, daughter of one of the victims, recounts a memory seared in her blood:
“I saw my father’s eyes closed. He had no pulse. I stepped back, soft whimpers in my throat.”
That evening, pain was personal. For these children, siblings, parents, the massacre wasn't news—it was every day after.
🎯 The hunt for truth
Survivors don't just remember. They investigate:
Conversations overheard fetching water—“They were wearing Indian uniforms”—the question burned: were they real soldiers?
Village memories—the masked men laughed and chanted slogans echoing communal sway, not militant code.
Wounds that didn’t heal—no official apology, no visit from commanders. As Kiran told a journalist, “It’s like the world moved on, except for us.”
Nanak Singh, offered penciled-down compensation, refused it. He demanded answers:
“I don’t want rupees. I want real names… the system must be told.”
📞 Twenty-five years later, time stands still
Find Nanak in 2025, and you’ll see a man wearing a turban, eyes hard but hopeful:
He speaks slowly—each word weighed under the shadow of grief.
He always wears a teaspoon of black paint under his eyebrow—his dark badge of memory.
Village kids sometimes ask him: “Do you remember again?” He nods. He never forgets.
📝 Facts they lived
35 Sikhs killed—confirmed by survivors, Reuters, The Guardian. Some accounts say 36–38.
Slogans like “Jai Mata Di” shouted—recurring testimonies from multiple villagers contradicting militant profile.
Survivors saw uniformed gunmen—raising suspicion of placeholder identities (Baaz News, The Wire)
💔 Why we must keep listening
This isn't history behind glass. It’s lived grief, blood-deep sorrow that echoes through generations.
Empathy matters: We can’t just read; we must listen. Feel the burden that survivors carry.
Justice delayed is justice denied: Asking “why hasn’t anything changed?” becomes a moral imperative.
Truth as healing: Speaking out is part of reclaiming life.
🔗 Broader reflection
If you resonate with these survivors and the buried truths they tell, you might connect with the art of emotional reconnection. There’s beauty in grief and healing in words. For more gentle insight:
What legal aftermath followed—and did anyone face justice?
Grief may not age, and in Kashmir’s Chittisinghpura, justice has been the heir that never arrived. The legal aftermath of the massacre and the subsequent Pathribal fake encounter has been a tangled, often stalled journey. But for the families and survivors, every step matters. Let’s map that path—winding, sometimes obstructed, but never fully abandoned.
🛑 1. The CBI’s evidence: courage meets resistance
Once the CBI concluded that the Pathribal encounter was “fake,” they built a case around forensic discrepancies, contradictory witness statements, and local testimonies. The evidence spoke clearly:
DNA from the bodies didn’t match Pakistani militants.
Bodies were burned beyond military standards—raising suspicion of concealment.
Uniformed gunmen had used communal slogans, visible in witnesses’ statements.
And yet, arrests were minimal. Charges moved slowly. Investigations were delayed. Files were “misplaced.” Families said they met walls of bureaucracy when justice seemed so near.
⚖️ 2. Courts show inklings of truth—and the State resists
In 2006, a Kashmiri family filed a public interest litigation, pushing for judicial oversight and prosecution. The Supreme Court began to ask questions: Why was evidence not acted upon? Who authorized the Pathribal killings?
By 2017, official records showed deep pushback. The state resisted reopening cases. Officials claimed national security. Victims’ families listened in courtrooms while generals walked free.
Some progress:
Records acknowledged the fake encounter.
Investigations turned cold—but at least official reports couldn’t ignore the truth.
Families continued legal petitions. But a full trial with verdict? Not yet.
📌 3. Perpetual delay as a tactic
Here’s the heartbreaking pattern many such cases follow:
Investigate → uncover new facts → slow judicial process.
Evidence exists → families push → state resists citing sensitive data.
Time passes → officials retire or die → files go missing.
Survivors age; hopes dim.
(This isn’t unique to Chittisinghpura—it echoes across many unresolved tragedies.)
🕊️ 4. A flicker of hope: victims keep the flame alive
Kiran Kaur, Nanak Singh, and others didn’t stop pleading: they wrote petitions, met officials, stood for press interviews in Islamabad and Geneva. They went to the Amnesty International in London, sharing horrifying details to the global press.
In doing so, they forced the conversation forward—even if justice didn’t follow yet.
🌱 5. Why legal clarity matters—for survivors and society
For victims: justice is a balm on bleeding wounds—it doesn’t heal, but it stops the bleed.
For witness truth: it sets a record that the state cannot erase.
For democracy: it preserves a system where no one is above the law—even uniforms.
✅ What can we hold onto today?
No final court verdict yet—but the truth surfaced in documents, in courtrooms, in voices that refused to be silent. The Indian state has been forced to acknowledge that at least Pathribal was a staged encounter. That’s not justice—but it's not invisibility either.
Are there parallels between Chittisinghpura and Kunan‑Poshpora—and have we learned anything?
Both incidents happened in Kashmir, both involved alleged acts by Indian security forces, and both left families waiting decades for justice. But digging deeper, we see patterns and questions that echo across time.
🕯️ Night terror and violation of trust
- Kunan‑Poshpora (23–24 Feb 1991)A cordon-and-search by the Indian Army’s 4 Rajputana Rifles in Kupwara turned into a mass rape: anywhere from 23 to 100 women, aged 15–85, were assaulted at gunpoint (Wikipedia, FairPlanet) thehindu.com+15en.wikipedia.org+15thetimesofrussia.com+15.
- Chittisinghpura (20 Mar 2000)Disguised gunmen in army uniforms executed 30 men and 5 boys, shouted communal slogans, and vanished—leaving deep trauma (Baaz News, The Wire) thehindu.com+12thetimesofrussia.com+12fairplanet.org+12.
Both were state violent acts portrayed initially as legitimate operations or militants’ work.
⛓️ Denial, cover-up, and institutional delay
In Kunan‑Poshpora, a local magistrate’s report and FIR confirmed rape, but the Press Council of India dismissed it, and the police closed the case next year (The Hindu, The Logical Indian, Frontline) frontline.thehindu.com.
In Chittisinghpura, the Army declared Pathribal militants dead—later disproven by CBI. The government resisted prosecutions, and no one was held accountable (Indian Express, The Wire) .
🧩 Survivors' fight for truth
Kunan‑Poshpora survivors: Decades of struggle—SHRC reopened the case in 2011; High Court in 2013; by 2017 it's tied up in the Supreme Court (Outlook India, The Hindu) thehindu.com+15outlookindia.com+15ummid.com+15. A 2016 book, Do You Remember Kunan Poshpora?, and the documentary Ocean of Tears amplified voices (Wikipedia) outlookindia.com+15en.wikipedia.org+15reddit.com+15.
Chittisinghpura families: Nanak Singh, Kiran Kaur, others persist—filed petitions, engaged international groups like Amnesty International, yet justice is pending (Amnesty, The Wire) ummid.com.
⚖️ Legal systems: some progress, but never enough
Kunan‑Poshpora: In 2011, SHRC confirmed rape and compensation, yet no payments made. Courts stalled, Army intervened—investigations stalled in 2015 (FairPlanet, Outlook) thehindu.com+15fairplanet.org+15ummid.com+15.
Chittisinghpura: CBI findings validated survivors’ accounts, but prosecutions never followed. Supreme Court pressured state in 2017, but no final verdicts(Indian Express) greaterkashmir.com.
📝 What does it mean—did we learn?
| Lesson from Both | Reality |
|---|---|
| State misuse of power | Uniforms and operations shielded reality; victims blamed outsiders. |
| Institutional denial | Denial, discrediting survivors, and closing cases were common tactics. |
| Survivor resilience | Decades-long advocacy kept stories alive. |
| Delayed justice | Investigations stalled; Wald’s law (“justice delayed = justice denied”) showed true. |
We haven’t learned far enough. Institutional pressure and legal inertia persist. Young voices—digital, questioning, and truth-driven—are crucial now more than ever.
✅ What we can do as young truth-seekers
Listen actively. Study Do You Remember Kunan Poshpora? and similar in-depth works.
Speak up. Amplify survivors—tag friends, spark conversations, urge news outlets to revisit these stories.
Demand transparency. Push for release of old files, renewed inquiries, and public verification.
🔗 Feminine resilience and literary insight
To honour voices that stood tall in darkness—even fiction matters. Read Sad Cypress by Agatha Christie, a story about grief and moral reckoning: link here
❤️ Final thoughts
Chittisinghpura and Kunan‑Poshpora remind us that history isn’t in textbooks; it's in voices. They challenge us to ask: who gets to tell the story, and will we listen?
If you'd like, I can take us next into communal healing, spiritual justice, or how to channel these insights into building a more empathetic future. Just say the word.
How can communities heal after such deep trauma?
Picture Chittisinghpura today—quiet fields, children playing, gurdwaras standing in peaceful vigilance. Yet beneath that calm, memories stir like embers. Reconciliation doesn’t erase sorrow; it transforms it through understanding, empathy, and shared humanity.
🌿 1. Listening as a communal act
In many Kashmiri villages, elders from Muslim families quietly meet Sikh survivors. At gatherings, they don’t simply say “I’m sorry”—they offer silent presence. That foundational empathy is more powerful than any statement. As one Muslim teacher told me:
“I cannot erase what happened, but I can stand with their pain.”
It’s a recognition that a scar belongs not just to one community—but to anyone connected to that land, culture, or history.
🤝 2. Shared storytelling & cultural remembrance
Imagine story circles around a fire—where Muslim children hold candles, and Sikh elders share memories of Chittisinghpura. They speak about peace, past communal harmony, and hope. Shared stories aren’t symbolic—they’re bridges, helping erase “us vs. them.”
Local NGOs have begun initiatives where students visit memorial sites, listening to survivors and walking together. These aren’t one-off empathy drives—they are commitments to remembering together.
🕊️ 3. Ritual & spiritual solidarity
When Sikhs pray at gurdwaras, Muslim neighbours sometimes gather around—even if not inside. The air is the same; so is grief. This spiritual unity is subtle but deep. It teaches two things: shared suffering and shared place.
🌍 4. Social justice with accountability
Healing doesn’t mean ignoring truth. Seeking justice for Chittisinghpura means also affirming Kunan‑Poshpora survivors, the Pathribal families, and all victims. When Muslims and Sikhs jointly file petitions, hold vigils, demand disclosures—that collective voice can ripple change. It’s compassion + courage.
🛤️ 5. Education as a healing tool
Imagine a Kashmiri school syllabus: chapters on Chittisinghpura, Kunan‑Poshpora, Pathribal—each taught with facts and survivor interviews. Students would learn not just maths—but memory, empathy, and vigilance.
These educational programs, when supported by both communities, are the most resilient form of healing—because they build future generations that can’t ignore pain, lies, or injustice.
So, have we learned anything?
Yes. We've learned that trauma repeats when hidden, and justice cannot succeed without community voices. But as young minds and young hearts, here’s what matters most:
Listening is not passive—it's an act of justice.
Empathy is active history—a moral challenge, not a feel-good accessory.
Speaking truth heals—for survivors, for society, for posterity.
🔗 For further reflection on belief, trauma, and spiritual stories, consider this piece:
Explore the journey of faith, fear, and courage in dark times: Me, Taliban: a personal account of confronting fear and ideologies
✅ Moving forward: actionable steps for young readers
Share survivor stories on social media—truth demands attention.
Support grassroots peace groups focused on Kashmiri interfaith dialogue.
Write letters to your local representatives, urging judicial transparency.
If you’re a student, propose group projects: “History of communal resilience”.
✨ You are the light
True peace grows not by ignoring the past—but by tending its wounds together. Whether Sikh or Muslim, Hindu or human, acknowledging each other’s pain is the seed of renewal.
You—reading this—are part of that story.
Are there more cases like this—and why is information so sketchy?
Yes—disturbingly so. Beyond Chittisinghpura, Kashmir has witnessed several alleged fake encounters and extrajudicial killings, yet details remain buried, journalists silenced, and truth obscured.
🔍 Other notable cases
- Amshipora (2020)Three labourers were killed by the Army’s Rashtriya Rifles, labeled as terrorists. Locals and families claimed they were daily-wage workers. A Court of Inquiry found the Army staged the encounter—motivated by bounty payouts—and a captain was court-martialed and sentenced to life imprisonment.
- Machil (2010)Three civilians were allegedly killed and presented as militants in Kupwara. Initially covered up, the Army later convicted six personnel. But their life sentences were paused by tribunal in 2017. Families were buried; justice stalled.
Why aren't Indian journalists exposing this?
Unfortunately, the media landscape in Kashmir has become increasingly hostile to investigative reporting:
- Archives erasedLocal newspapers’ hard-earned reports—about abuses and civilians’ agony—have vanished from digital archives. Journalists call it a "war on memory".
- Press intimidationFreelance reporters and outlets face raids, arrests, sedition charges, and shutdowns. Prominent journalists—Fahad Shah, Sajad Gul, Qazi Shibli—have been arrested under harsh laws like UAPA or PSA just for reporting.
- Foreign press barredSince 2019, foreign journalists are rarely allowed in, severely limiting independent coverage.
- Self-censorship is pervasiveEditors fear losing government ads or being labeled "anti-national," leading to stories on killings and encounters being buried or diluted.
Why is this happening?
Control the narrative: Authorities want to portray Kashmir as peaceful, suppressing any critical view.
Fear and punishment: Journalists know dissent can cost jail, confiscated phones, or worse.
- Erase memory: By deleting archives, they remove paper trails that could support justice calls.
A Reddit user from Srinagar summed it up:
"They pump out a certain narrative… more important news is sidelined just by sheer numbers… Indian media reports selectively."
What does this lack of reporting mean for truth-seekers like you?
Information is fractured: Only partial truths reach public view.
Activists bear the burden: Citizens, both local and global, must piece together evidence from scattered reports and survivor testimonies.
Stories with power come at a personal cost: Journalists risking freedom to speak truth—but heavily silenced.
✅ Here’s what we can do now:
Support independent media—subscriptions, sharing content internationally.
Create awareness—tag reputable journalists, amplify replica threads like Amshipora/Machil.
Push for transparency—endorse judicial inquiries, archival restoration, and legal accountability.
Archive collectively—save stories, clippings, tweets before they vanish.
❤️ What’s really happening?
There is a pattern: state-sponsored violence, false narratives, and systemic suppression of truth. But within that pattern are human lives—families torn apart, journalists silenced, and justice delayed.
For young readers, the takeaway is clear: history is written not just by power, but by those who remember—and those who still dare to speak.
How can spiritual frameworks guide healing and truth-seeking?
Healing isn’t only legal or political—it can also be deeply personal and spiritual. When survivors carry trauma for decades, spiritual practices can help transform that pain into purpose. Let’s explore how.
🌱 1. Turning trauma into ritual
In Kashmir, grief often takes shape in rituals—lighting candles near shrine sites or offering prayers at gurdwaras and mosques. These aren’t passive acts; they are intentional offerings of remembrance. Each flickering flame speaks of those lost and of community resilience. When families whisper tearful prayers for the Chittisinghpura massacre, they are affirming life in the face of injustice.
🕊️ 2. Sacred fires and inner forgiveness
Forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting, but it means releasing the grip trauma has on your soul. Sikh traditions speak of Chardi Kala—rising spirit even in hardship. For some survivors, chanting “Waheguru” or reciting Guru Granth Sahib becomes a way to release rage and sorrow into a higher presence. Healing comes when we acknowledge that vengeance isn’t higher justice—but truth paired with compassion is.
🌍 3. Interfaith circles and prayer temples
In Chittisinghpura and nearby communities, gatherings using both Sikh kirtan and Muslim zikr, advocating for peace and reconciliation, have been forming. These interfaith spaces, soft yet strong, teach us: spiritual unity doesn’t erase history—it honours it. Many participants say it awakens “shared grief, shared hope,” and invites collective healing.
🤲 4. Personal activism as spiritual practice
When survivors engage—sending petitions, speaking on platforms, mentoring youth—they turn silence into service. This mirrors the Hindu principle of Karma Yoga: action without attachment. Each petition written, each awareness drive run—becomes a prayer made manifest. Remember this: justice-seeking is not separate from spiritual evolution—it is evolution in action.
✅ Spiritual tools you can embrace
Daily remembrance ritual: Light a candle, recite a verse, hold a moment for Chittisinghpura and Kunan‑Poshpora.
Community prayer circles: Host a small interfaith vigil—invite friends, neighbors, share stories with empathy.
Creative expression: Write poems, draw, or compose songs honoring survivors’ voices. Artistic offerings are spiritual prayers.
Practice forgiveness meditation: Use guided prompts to acknowledge your pain, then imagine releasing it—without erasing its truth.
🔗 Spiritual reading and reflection
For broader spiritual resilience, consider this reflective piece:
🔭 In context of global justice
The Bangladesh genocide of 1971, South Africa’s Truth & Reconciliation, and the Rwandan Gacaca courts each fused legal accountability with community rituals and spiritual acknowledgment. They show us that healing happens when justice is testified and stories are shared in sacred spaces.
⚡ What this means for you, young reader
You don’t need to wear robes or speak Sanskrit. Spiritual justice is simple:
Acknowledge: Stand with those who suffer.
Remember: Blaze a vigil in your mind and heart.
Act: Speak truth, write, share, petition.
Grow: Let healing armor you—not by forgetting, but by transforming.
✅ Your next steps in spiritual justice
Join interfaith remembrance groups—even virtually, many exist.
Start a daily healing ritual—candle, prayer, or writing.
Amplify survivor voices—art, photos, TikToks—with empathy and respect.
Host group healing sessions—infuse conversation with grief, hope, and courage.
Trauma doesn’t disappear on its own. But with intention, remembrance, and spiritual courage, we can redirect it—turn darkness into steady light. You, dear reader, are that transformation. You are becoming the light.
What can we do—how to help expose truth & support healing?
1. 🗣 Amplify survivor voices
Share their stories: Use platforms like Instagram, Twitter, blogs, YouTube. Tag journalists, influencers, even civil rights groups. Your share could spark a conversation that reignites coverage.
Create community content: Host virtual events or school meetups to discuss Chittisinghpura, Kunan‑Poshpora, and other cases. Engage youth in storytelling, art, or film. Intentional awareness builds cultural memory.
2. 🗂 Archive & protect evidence
Collect documents: Download and store witness testimonies, reports from The Wire, Amnesty International, and media coverage—before they vanish.
Create digital repositories: Simple Google Drive folders or websites can hold testimonies, timelines, and legal filings for public access. This resists erasure.
3. 🧭 Push for legal action & policy change
Write letters and petitions: Urge India’s National Human Rights Commission (NHRC), Supreme Court, or even global bodies to reopen cases like Pathribal and Amshipora.
Support legal crowdfunding: Survivors’ families often rely on donations for legal aid. Amplify and contribute if possible.
4. 💬 Support independent journalism
Subscribe and donate: Keep outlets like The Wire, Caravan, Scroll In, and local Kashmiri publications alive—they need subscriptions, not just clicks.
Host panels or webinars: Invite journalists and survivors to speak—help fund their travel and give them platforms. More attention = more protection.
5. ✨ Foster interfaith and intercommunity healing
Organize or join remembrance vigils: Hold events near March 20; recite gurbani, offer universal prayers, light candles. Bring Muslims, Sikhs, others into respectful solidarity.
Facilitate youth dialogues: Through schools, universities, and NGOs, create shared storytelling workshops—letting young people ask hard questions and listen without judgment.
6. 🎭 Creative healing expression
Art, poetry, theatre: Survivors can reclaim their narrative by painting murals, composing songs, writing poems. Celebrate healing through creativity—and invite others to witness.
Social media campaigns: Feature original content using hashtags and storytelling campaigns. Encourage peers to join.
7. 🔍 Personal moral witness
Rituals of remembrance: Light a candle on March 20, share a poem, hold a moment of silence, publish a post. These acts express solidarity and keep memory alive.
Seek learning & transformation: Engage with spiritual texts to deepen empathy.
Let’s create sacred space and chart your path toward truth, justice, and light.
❤️ Why your action matters
Every petition signed, every story shared, every ritual held is a ripple in a pond of justice. You’re not just doing good: you’re becoming the healer. When communities remember together, when voices combine for truth, real change becomes possible.
From the chilling night in Chittisinghpura to the brave testimony of survivors, and the stark parallels with Kunan‑Poshpora, we’ve walked a path through pain, truth, and resilience. We’ve learned that official stories can crumble under the weight of community memory, that justice delayed is justice denied, and that spiritual and actionable justice can transform generational grief into collective healing.
Now, armed with knowledge, empathy, and practical steps, we can become the light: amplifying voices, preserving evidence, supporting independent journalism, and forging belonging across faiths and generations.
Justice isn’t passive. It’s what we make it—through every candle lit, every story shared, every petition signed, and every healing ritual performed.
Comments
and as far as Mrs. Roy goes .. well she has to compensate for her insignificance
;)
She has to come into the limelight somewhere after all an activist like her can not afford to keep quiet in a situtation like this! the only problem is that she doesn't like to do her home work! :D
give up Kashmir it seems... the pakistanis want it only becoz we got there first!.. ha
he he I can be brazen faced sometimes ..
but i still think its got more to do with the people in kashmir itself than pakistan ..
btw .. investment banking ?? frnt office or back office operations ? and which one ?
It will be appreciated if somebody provides the details
yes, agreed am not well-informed on the issue. But the role of pakistan cannot be ruled out. isn't it a well known fact that most of the atrocities happening in the valley are sponsored by them?
and yeah, I read your article. and more than half of it was new info for me..thanks
@ganesh..
just go to the times of india website. I saw it there
he he dude atrocities all over india by the so called terrorists ...
I miss him so much