Shafqat Sheikh
The Chenab Valley in Jammu and Kashmir bleeds silently, its roads claiming more lives than militancy ever has. Politics overshadow humanity here, as crumbling infrastructure and reckless oversight turn inter-district routes into death traps. Hundreds perish annually, yet the response from authorities remains hollow—empty condolences on social media instead of concrete action.
The numbers paint a grim picture. In 2023 alone, Jammu and Kashmir recorded 6,298 road accidents, killing 893 people, according to the Traffic Department. The Chenab Valley—spanning Kishtwar, Doda, and Ramban districts—accounts for a staggering 20% of these fatalities over the past six years, with 852 deaths between 2019 and October 2024, per “Kashmir Life”. Compare that to militancy’s toll: 550 lives lost to violence in 2018, while traffic accidents snuffed out over 900 that same year. Roads, not bullets, are the real killers here.
Take the horror of November 15, 2023, in Doda’s Assar area. A bus plunged into a gorge, claiming 39 lives in one of the deadliest crashes in recent memory. Or rewind to 2019 in Kishtwar, when another bus tumbled into a ravine, killing 35 and injuring 17. Fast forward to January 4, 2025—four more died in Kishtwar when their vehicle nosedived into a gorge, as reported by ‘Deccan Herald’. Just weeks ago, on March 1, 2025, a mini-bus in Ramban skidded off the road, killing 10 laborers from Bihar. These aren’t isolated tragedies; they’re a pattern etched into the valley’s treacherous terrain.
X posts capture the raw grief. One user, @KashmirVoice, lamented after the Ramban crash: “Another day, another accident in Chenab Valley. 10 gone. When will this stop? Roads are a death sentence here.” Another, @JammuEcho, posted: “Heart breaks for the families. Kishtwar, Doda, Ramban—same story, different day. Govt sleeps while we mourn.” The sorrow is palpable, the anger justified.
What fuels this carnage? Deteriorating roads, overloading, and untrained drivers top the list. The Batote-Doda-Kishtwar highway, a vital lifeline, is riddled with potholes and narrow stretches, especially deadly during monsoons. In July 2024, a mini-bus in Doda’s Batyas fell 200 feet into a gorge due to mechanical failure, killing two and injuring 25, as *The Indian Express* reported. Locals blame shoddy maintenance and unchecked overloading—buses often carry double their capacity, a ticking time bomb on these winding routes.
The irony stings: Chenab Valley has produced multiple Roads and Buildings (R&B) Ministers, yet its roads remain a bloodbath. In 2011-12, under the NC-Congress coalition led by Omar Abdullah, a team headed by M.Y. Tarigami probed these accidents. Their detailed report gathered dust, and no meaningful fixes followed. Fast forward to today—despite the Legislative Assembly’s ongoing pre-budget 2025-26 session under Abdullah’s renewed leadership, not one MLA has raised this crisis. Promises of better roads and commuter services evaporate once public outrage fades.
Live voices echo the frustration. Mohammad Aslam, a shopkeeper in Kishtwar, lost his cousin in a 2023 crash. “The bus was packed beyond limit, the road was a mess. My cousin didn’t stand a chance,” he says, his voice cracking. In Doda, widow Razia Begum mourns her husband, a victim of the Assar tragedy. “He took the bus to work. Now I’m alone with two kids. Who’s accountable?” she demands. These aren’t just stories—they’re the human cost of negligence.
Government response? Tepid at best. After the Assar crash, ex-gratia payments of Rs 5 lakh per deceased family were announced, with the PMO adding Rs 2 lakh. Yet, cash doesn’t fix roads or bring back the dead. The Jammu and Kashmir Road Safety Policy 2025, notified on March 14, vows to cut accidents and fatalities by 50% by 2030. It promises stricter oversight, blacklisting errant contractors, and identifying “black spots” every six months. But promises mean little when enforcement lags. Over 22.66 lakh vehicles ply J&K’s roads, yet state-run RTC buses remain a pipe dream in Chenab Valley, leaving commuters at the mercy of private operators who flout rules.
Data underscores the urgency. In 2022, 6,092 accidents killed 805 across J&K; by 2023, deaths rose to 893. Chenab Valley’s share is chilling: 113 fatalities in 2019, 64 in 2020, 91 in 2021, 81 in 2022, and 114 in 2023, per *NewsClick*. National Highways, despite being just 2.1% of J&K’s road network, account for 45 deaths per 100 km. The Chenab region’s hilly routes amplify the risk, yet upgrades crawl at a snail’s pace.
The fix isn’t rocket science. Monitor speeding and overloading. Deploy RTC and e-buses to ease reliance on rogue operators. Widen roads, install crash barriers, penalize reckless drivers. As a freelance columnist from Bunjwah Kishtwar, I’ve seen families shattered—widows, orphans, grieving parents left to pick up the pieces. Chenab Valley’s roads aren’t just infrastructure; they’re silent executioners. The government must act, not react, before another X post mourns the next avoidable tragedy.
(Shafqat Sheikh is a freelance writer and columnist. Reach him at freelancershafqat@gmail.com or 9419974577.)
