Kashmir’s Dramatic Turn to India’s Embrace
I Ahmed Wani
For over three decades, the Kashmir Valley was a cauldron of chaos, its streets echoing with the cries of hartals, its youth ensnared by a seductive yet sinister call for separatism. Leaders like Bilal Ghani Lone, heir to the assassinated separatist icon Abdul Ghani Lone, stood as towering figures in this turbulent saga, wielding influence that once paralyzed a region. Yet, in a stunning reversal that reverberates through history, Lone’s recent confession to PTI Videos—that separatism was a “historical mistake” orchestrated by Pakistan—marks a seismic shift. The Valley, once a battleground of ideologies, now stands on the cusp of a new era, where the impossible has become inevitable, and the once-deafening rhetoric of division fades into a whisper, barely noticed by a media that once thrived on its chaos.
The roots of Kashmir’s separatist movement trace back to the late 1980s, a period steeped in turmoil. The 1987 Jammu and Kashmir Legislative Election, widely criticized for alleged rigging, ignited widespread discontent, fueling the rise of groups like the Jammu and Kashmir Liberation Front (JKLF) and later Hizbul Mujahideen. By 1989, an insurgency backed by Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) had erupted, with over 600,000 troops deployed in the region by the early 1990s to counter a rising tide of militancy. The Hurriyat Conference, formed in 1993, became the political face of this movement, with figures like Abdul Ghani Lone advocating for azadi (freedom) or alignment with Pakistan. His assassination in 2002 under mysterious circumstances—some allege at the hands of Pakistan-backed factions—sent shockwaves through the Valley, leaving his sons, Bilal and Sajjad, to inherit a fractured legacy.
Bilal Ghani Lone chose to carry the separatist torch, aligning with the Hurriyat’s hardline faction, while his brother Sajjad rejected the path, joining mainstream politics and revitalizing the People’s Conference. For years, Bilal’s voice, steeped in the rhetoric of resistance, commanded headlines. A single call for a hartal could shutter schools, markets, and lives, as stone-pelting and protests dominated the Valley. Between 1989 and 2010, over 47,000 people lost their lives to the conflict, according to official estimates, with unofficial counts suggesting even higher tolls. The economic cost was staggering—Kashmir’s GDP growth lagged behind India’s, with tourism, once contributing 7-8% to the state’s economy, plummeting to near zero during peak unrest.
Yet, beneath this surface of defiance, cracks were forming. Lone’s recent admission unveils a chilling truth: the separatist movement was not a people’s uprising but a meticulously engineered plot. “Whatever was happening was at the behest of Pakistan,” he declared, exposing how foreign powers handpicked leaders who “never thought about their nation.” The ISI’s role is well-documented—declassified reports estimate Pakistan funneled over $100 million annually to sustain militancy in the 1990s, arming groups like Hizbul Mujahideen, the military wing of Jamaat-e-Islami, which radicalized countless youth. When the tide turned, these leaders, as Lone put it, “hid in their burrows,” abandoning the very people they claimed to champion.
The turning point came with India’s bold moves. The 2019 abrogation of Article 370, which revoked Jammu and Kashmir’s special status, was a gamble that reshaped the region’s destiny. Coupled with relentless counter-terrorism operations—over 2,500 militants neutralized between 2014 and 2020, per government data—the separatist ecosystem began to collapse. Jamaat-e-Islami, once the ideological fountainhead of militancy, stunned observers by renouncing separatism and entering electoral politics in 2024, a move unthinkable a decade ago. Bilal Ghani Lone’s pivot is even more dramatic. His call for Kashmir’s youth to “look only towards India” and embrace the national mainstream is not just a personal reckoning but a historic capitulation of a movement that once seemed invincible.
What makes this shift suspenseful is its quiet acceptance. In the 1990s, a separatist leader’s words could ignite front-page fury; today, Lone’s mea culpa is a non-event, barely rippling through media outlets. This silence is profound. It signals that Kashmir has moved beyond the era of division. The Valley’s youth, once lured by the romance of rebellion, now flock to competitive exams—over 25,000 applied for civil service roles in 2024 alone. Tourism has rebounded, with 2.11 million visitors in 2023, surpassing pre-conflict peaks. Local elections, once marred by boycotts, saw a 58.6% turnout in 2020, the highest in decades. The impossible—Kashmir’s integration into India’s fabric—has become a non-issue, as natural as the autumn blush of its chinar trees.
But why did it take 30 years? The answer lies in the slow unraveling of a manipulated narrative. Pakistan’s proxy war, sustained by guns and money, created a mirage of a people’s movement, but it lacked roots in Kashmiri soil. As Lone admits, opportunities for peace were squandered by a leadership beholden to foreign masters. India’s response— blending security measures with development—gradually exposed this truth. Over $15 billion in infrastructure projects since 2019, including highways and schools, have transformed the Valley’s landscape. Grassroots governance through strengthened panchayats has empowered locals, eroding the alienation that separatists exploited.
This dramatic shift is not without its shadows. Challenges like unemployment (18% in 2024, per CMIE data) and political reconciliation persist. Yet, the Valley stands at a crossroads, its future hinging on whether former separatists like Lone can inspire trust. Their return to the mainstream is a triumph of pragmatism over ideology, a chance to rewrite Kashmir’s story. The winds of separatism, once a howling storm, have vanished, revealing a truth as old as the Himalayas: Kashmir’s heart beats with India. The media’s silence is not indifference but a testament to a region reborn, where yesterday’s rebels are today’s patriots, and the impossible is now simply home.
