Let the Pause Continue ,A Father’s Dream for Kashmir
In the embrace of Kashmir’s valleys, where the Jhelum murmurs tales of resilience and the mountains stand sentinel over a land of timeless beauty, a transformation has unfolded over the past five years under Lieutenant Governor Manoj Sinha. This is a story of a people reclaiming their future from the clutches of fear, a narrative woven from the threads of hope, courage, and quiet victories. As the LG’s tenure approaches its fifth anniversary on August 7, 2025, voices on social media and in the streets speak of a “pause” in terrorism—a pause that has saved thousands, silenced stone pelters, and kept schools open. Critics, clutching old dogmas, argue that peace without talks with Pakistan is a mirage, warning that terrorists lie dormant, awaiting the LG’s exit. But I, a son of this soil, say: let this pause continue until my last breath or until terrorism is extinguished. For in this pause, Kashmir has found not just calm but a chance to dream anew.
The tale begins in August 2020, when Manoj Sinha took the helm of a Jammu and Kashmir still raw from the abrogation of Article 370 in 2019. The valley was a crucible of grief and unrest, a place where hope flickered faintly. Sinha’s mission was clear: peace and progress were the cornerstones of his vision. On July 8, 2025, in Srinagar, he declared, “Peace and security are paramount for tourism development in Jammu and Kashmir.” This wasn’t mere rhetoric; it was a vow to reshape a wounded land.
Terrorism, once a relentless shadow, was pushed to the margins. A post on X from @NewsArenaIndia on July 9, 2025, captured the shift: “Ordinary citizens are taking a stand against terrorism. Street protests against Pakistan-backed terrorists is a good sign to establish permanent peace in the valley.” The LG’s administration struck at terror’s roots—hawala channels were choked, local recruitment into militant groups plummeted from 100 a year to nearly zero, and overground supporters were denied jobs and clearances. A senior J&K official noted that these measures dismantled the ecosystem of violence. The result was a pause in terror, a reprieve that saved countless lives. As one X user proclaimed, “Terrorists have gone into hibernation,” but this pause meant streets free of bloodshed, a gift to a generation weary of loss.
Stone pelting, once a daily wound, vanished. Pellet guns, notorious for blinding youth, fell silent. I carry a memory that still stings. My son, Arfeen, barely five, came home from school one day and asked, “Baba, what is ‘chamisst’?” Puzzled, I pressed him, and he explained that a Local Moran (Futwa Baaz) had taunted him, saying, “Are you a communist like your father?” Such venom, spewed by groups claiming a monopoly on faith, once tore at Kashmir’s soul. They issued fatwas, branded dissenters heretics, and sowed division. Under the LG, these voices were silenced. Organizations like Jamaat-e-Islami and others which frayed the valley’s social fabric, faced bans. As Sinha vowed on July 21, 2025, “We must unite and wage a war against terrorism, its eco-system, and drug addiction.” Today, the silencers are on their mouths, and I pray this pause holds until my last breath or until their ideology dies.
Education, too, was reborn. Schools, once shuttered by separatist-called hartals, now hum year-round. Nadeem, a university student, shared a chilling memory from his high school in Kokernag. His principal, in morning assemblies, urged students to become militants, not doctors or engineers, with fiery cries of “ Mujahidou ka dera ha
Phadu ka Chatanu Pa” (the militants live on the rocks of the valley). Such rhetoric, once a chilling norm, is now unthinkable. The LG ensured classrooms became sanctuaries of learning, not recruitment grounds for violence. Nadeem’s generation studies in peace, dreaming of stethoscopes and blueprints, not guns and grenades.
The workplace saw a quiet revolution. Javiad Sheikh, a young Panchayat Assistant, told me, “I wouldn’t have this job without the LG’s reforms. My father never bowed to political parties or Jamaat’s threats, so we were in no man’s land.” Jobs, once reserved for loyalists or vocal rebels, now reward merit. Biometric attendance ended the farce of “Eye Glasses and Karakuli ” proxies, where officials marked presence with symbolic items while vacationing at hill stations. A civil secretariat employee, speaking anonymously, marveled, “No buddy skips work now. Biometrics made accountability mandatory.” Productivity soared as offices buzzed with purpose, not pretense.
The LG’s reforms reached into the shadows. Hawala channels, the financial arteries of terror, were severed. The media, once a fiefdom of a few, came under a department’s watchful eye, ensuring news served truth, not agendas. These changes, subtle yet seismic, rewove Kashmir’s fabric, replacing fear with function.
Yet, the story has its skeptics. Critics like Imran Nabi Dar of the National Conference argue the peace is fragile. A July 21, 2025, X post by Dar challenged claims of eradicated militancy, citing rising attacks. The Pahalgam attack on April 22, 2025, which killed 26 tourists, shook the valley. But what followed was unprecedented: for the first time in three decades, Kashmiris poured onto the streets, not to glorify militants but to denounce terrorism and demand peace as a united society. India’s Operation Sindoor, striking terror camps across the border, underscored the stakes, though Pakistan denied involvement. Critics insist peace requires talks with Pakistan, but the LG and the Centre hold firm: only terrorism and PoK are on the table.
As Sinha’s tenure approaches its fifth anniversary , I reflect on a valley transformed. The pause in terror, stone pelting, and hartals has given Kashmir a chance to breathe. My son Arfeen walks to school without taunts. Javiad works with dignity. Nadeem dreams of healing, not fighting. Government employees show up, not just in body but in spirit. The streets of Pahalgam echoed with voices for peace, not violence. This pause is not just a lull; it’s a foundation. Let it continue—until my death or until terrorism is but a memory. For in this pause, Kashmir has found not just peace, but the promise of a future.
