In the first part of this series, we looked at Kashmir's dysfunctional political history—which laid the foundations for the militancy that would eventually lay waste to the Pandit community. In this final instalment, we map the flight of the Pandits from the Valley—and its fallout.
Researched by: Sara Varghese, Prafula Grace Busi & Nivedita Bobal
Editor’s note: This explainer was commissioned by subscriber Maya Sarao. We always encourage our subscribers to write in and ask for Big Stories on subjects of their choice. So be sure to reach out talktous@splainer.in.
By January 1990, the terrorist killings were growing more bold and indiscriminate. On January 19, Jagmohan (an old Indira hand) was brought in as governor by the VP Singh government in a desperate attempt to restore control. Farooq Abdullah—working in tandem with Opposition leader and ally Rajiv Gandhi—immediately quit in protest. Mufti Mohammed Sayeed—who would go on to form the People’s Democratic Party now led by his daughter Mehbooba—was Home Minister. But on the very day that Jagmohan took his new job, thousands of Pandits fled in the first great wave of the exodus.
The date is marked as Holocaust Day by many Kashmiri Pandits—but it is a bit of a misnomer. They were not rounded up and sent to camps to be killed. The events of that night instead made it clear to the Pandits that they would be killed if they did not escape the Valley. Tens of thousands of them packed and left the very next day. And many more would follow in the months to come. But the reason why they left remains a matter of bitter dispute between Muslims and Pandits.
The prelude: The Jammu & Kashmir Liberation Front—led by Yasin Malik—seemed invincible and each month brought a fresh batch of Pandit assassinations. The militants’ influence was everywhere—and it had a hard Islamic edge. Here is how members of the community describe it:
On the other hand: Muslim scholars like Khalid Wasim Hassan insist, "More than the real attacks it was the atmosphere and threat perception from the ‘other’ that played a major role in driving Kashmiri pandits from the valley in large numbers." And he emphasises the fact that ordinary Muslims did not attack their Hindu brethren: "Muslims claim and refugees agree that there were no communal incidents or burning and looting of houses."
The night of January 19: But there is no debate over this particular night which left an indelible mark on the collective Pandit memory. No one was killed but it was the trigger that pushed them into permanent exile. According to one account by Tej Kumar Tikoo:
"As the night fell, the microscopic community became panic-stricken when the Valley began reverberating with the war-cries of Islamists… A host of highly provocative, communal and threatening slogans, interspersed with martial songs, incited the Muslims to come out on the streets and break the chains of 'slavery'... These slogans were mixed with precise and unambiguous threats to Pandits.They were presented with three choices: Ralive, Tsaliv ya Galive (convert to Islam, leave the place or perish). Tens of thousands of Kashmiri Muslims poured into the streets of the Valley, shouting 'death to India' and death to Kafirs."
Pandita’s account of the same night describes Muslims in the streets and mosques, baying for blood:
"At 10 pm, it began. Not in one street, not in one locality, not in one district; it began in the entire Valley, from north to south, east to west. Now remember: this is 1990. There are no cellphones. There is no Facebook or Twitter. Even the landline density is minimal. But it is all so well planned, and the Kashmiri Pandits have no clue; the Indian State has no clue—it is paralysed, it is on its knees. At 10pm, people are out on the streets. They are shouting for our blood. In mosques, they are asking for our annihilation."
The chants included "Battan hund byol, Khodayan gol" (The seed of the Pandits has been destroyed by Allah) and "Assi gacchi panunuy Pakistan, Batav rostuy, Batanein saan" (We want our Pakistan, without Pandit men, but with their women).
On the other hand: Muslim accounts of the same events emphasise the helplessness of the ordinary Kashmiris—sandwiched between the brute force of the military and death threats of the militants. Others like Azhar Aalam Mir confirm the events of the night and feel great remorse. But they view the flight of the Pandits as part of Jagmohan’s “orchestrated” plan:
"Though the sense of fear and panic in the minds of the Pandit community is indisputable, Jagmohan cashed in on that anxiety to facilitate their departure. There are reports pointing to the transport provided in a planned manner to KPs in particular localities… It is believed that Jagmohan's efforts to organise things was meant to give a safe passage of Pandits to Jammu or elsewhere. Stringent laws to curb militancy were already in force but these laws couldn't be freely applied on a mixed population. His plan was to get the Pandits out and crush the Muslims with a heavy hand."
Point to note: Senior Commissioner Wajahat Habibullah wholly dismisses the theory of a grand plan—but he admits that Jagmohan ignored his appeals to offer reassurance to the Pandit community, and guarantee their safety. The governor instead only offered refugee camps to those who wanted to leave.
Within days, the Kashmiri Muslim would suffer a great tragedy of their own. On January 21, the CRPF gunned down 50 protesters at the Gawkadal Bridge—which is now remembered as the "first massacre." As Indian Express puts it: "The two events… took place within 48 hours, but for years, neither community could accept the pain of the other, and in some ways, still cannot, as each continues to talk past the other."
And time has done little to bridge this great chasm, as Amitabh Matoo writes:
"In the Manichaean worlds that Kashmiri Pandits and Kashmiri Muslims inhabit today, their narratives are almost diametrically opposite. While most Pandits view their departure as part of a systematic ‘ethnic cleansing’ by a section of the Kashmiri Muslims, most Muslims see in the departure of the Kashmiri Pandits a deliberate conspiracy of the Indian state with two objectives; to give them a bad name and simultaneously give a free repressive hand to the security forces."
The numbers: As with the Pandit deaths, this tally varies according to the source. The government website puts it at 60,000 families, while researcher Alexander Evans puts the number between 160,000-170,000. Interestingly, when questioned, the government always responds with the number of "Kashmiri migrants"—not Pandits. That category includes people from all faiths. The latest count offered by the BJP government in 2021 is 44,167 Kashmiri migrant families—of which 39,782 were Hindu. But Pandits are only a subcategory of Kashmiri Hindus.
Key point to note: 'Kashmir Files' claims the number of exiled Pandits is 500,000—but that is highly unlikely. The reason: The combined Hindu population in the Kashmir Valley districts in the 1981 census was 125,042. What is indisputable is that by the end of 1990, the Pandit community in Kashmir had virtually disappeared. There are only 800 families left in the Valley today.
Where we are now:
The road back home: For all the chants of ‘hum wapas jayenge’, no one is willing to return to the Valley without a guarantee of their personal safety—which no government, state or union, has been able or willing to give. Some Pandit groups demand a Panun Kashmir—a homeland carved out of Srinagar, Anantnag, Sopore etc. But no Kashmiri leader will countenance it—although Amit Shah has made a passing promise to create "separate townships."
Point to consider: The Pandits have already built new lives in more welcoming parts of the world. It is unclear how many would want to return to a state under military lockdown and with very little freedom—much as they cheer the revocation of Kashmir’s special status.
The bottomline: When faced with a film like ‘Kashmir Files’, the least useful response is to criticise its exaggerations and flaws—or even to point to the immense suffering of Kashmiri Muslims. When suffering is being weaponized, the most effective antidote is compassion. As Bilal Zaidi writes on Facebook:
"The suffering of Kashmiri Pandits was/is real. Just because a propagandist has made a film on the subject, or that the right wing tries to hijack it whenever they can, that doesn’t mean that Kashmiri Pandits were not pushed out of their homes. The number doesn’t matter—even if 3 members of the minority community were killed, no innocent lives should be lost to hate.
A new generation of Kashmiri Pandits is articulating their sufferings and their stories. They need to be heard and not cancelled out. Just the way Kashmiri Muslims deserve to be heard. You can’t resolve any differences when you won’t even acknowledge the pain of those who suffered."
Journalist Rahul Pandita offers the clearest articulation of the Pandit view of the exodus. You can listen to him on this Times of India podcast or read an excerpt from his book on Open magazine—which includes a description of the January 19 night. Azhar Aalam Mir offers the view of a new generation of Kashmiri Muslims in Kashmir Times. The Wire’s reporting calls for a more nuanced view of the role of Muslims in the exodus—which included quiet support in the face of great fear. Sameer Yasir in Firstpost explains why Kashmiri Pandits will likely never return to the Valley. Al Jazeera reports on what happened to the Pandits who chose to stay behind. The Print looks at the casual bigotry faced by Pandits in online spaces like Clubhouse.
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