Yoginder Kandhari
The latest threats to Kashmiri Pandits serving in the Valley under the PM Package should have been enough to puncture the carefully manufactured narrative of “peace has returned to Kashmir.”
But then, inconvenient facts have never been particularly welcome in the Kashmir success story.
There have indeed been repeated targeted killings of non-locals in the Valley over the past few years, including some recently. These killings can reasonably be seen in the context of a continuing separatist ideology and an attempt to intimidate the State whenever it tries to integrate Kashmir more fully with the rest of India.
But there is another uncomfortable question, one nobody seems particularly eager to ask.
*What happens when Kashmiri Pandits actually return, not merely as tourists, writers, delegates or subjects of nostalgia, but as employees, property owners and equal citizens?*
For more than three decades, an entire generation in Kashmir has grown accustomed to a Valley without Kashmiri Pandits.
Jobs that would otherwise have been competed for were not competed for. Government employment expanded. Careers were built. Businesses flourished.
And now the Pandits are being encouraged to return to the Valley and take up government jobs under the PM Package.
Could some people possibly regard this as competition?
After all, if you have enjoyed an exclusive slice of the employment cake for almost four decades, the arrival of the people who were forcibly removed from the dining table can be rather inconvenient.
But jobs are only one part of the story.
*Real estate is another.*
Thousands of kanals of migrant property, and innumerable houses, shops and parcels of land, were left behind.
Some were sold under distress. Some were sold voluntarily. And many remain.
Some of those properties have allegedly been encroached upon. Some have been built upon. Some have changed hands. And in some cases, the alleged beneficiaries of these occupations are not exactly powerless people.
This is where the politics of Kashmir becomes particularly interesting.
A Kashmiri Pandit reclaiming a piece of land is not merely reclaiming land.
He is reclaiming *ownership, memory, citizenship and a physical stake in the Valley.*
That can be considerably more threatening than a five-star declaration about “inclusive development.”
So it is difficult not to notice the timing.
The latest threats to Kashmiri Pandits came after the Chief Secretary announced that *500 kanals of encroached land had been retrieved* and that the process was being pursued aggressively.
Coincidence?
Maybe.
But Kashmir has produced enough “coincidences” over the years to justify asking a few questions.
For most of the present Chief Secretary’s tenure, what exactly prevented the administration from pursuing the retrieval of migrant property with similar enthusiasm?
Was the State unaware?
Were the files missing?
Were the encroachers invisible?
Or was everybody simply waiting for the appropriate season of administrative enlightenment?
Whatever the answer, the sudden discovery of urgency towards the end of a tenure is certainly interesting.
Meanwhile, the district administrations appear to have perfected the art of *administrative cardio*.
A migrant submits an application.
Then another.
Then a reminder.
Then another reminder.
Then he travels to Srinagar.
Then to the tehsil.
Then to the Deputy Commissioner.
Then back to the tehsil.
Then he discovers that the file has apparently attained spiritual enlightenment and is “under process.”
And if he is lucky enough to have a court order or an eviction order, he can begin the next round.
Court order in hand. Possession nowhere.
The administration knows a very simple truth: you don’t always have to defeat a claimant legally.
You can simply exhaust him administratively.
Let him spend years travelling, filing applications, meeting officials and chasing files. Eventually, age, expense and frustration may accomplish what an adverse legal order could not.
The Srinagar DM Court, for instance, has not convened since June 2026, with official engagements being cited.
One wonders:
Is hearing cases pending before the DM Court not an official engagement?
Or has “official engagement” become the bureaucratic equivalent of “Please come back tomorrow”?
And then there is the most delicious contradiction of all.
When land belonging to Hindu temples and shrines has to be retrieved, the State can demonstrate admirable efficiency.
When demolitions are politically useful as evidence that “encroachment will no longer be tolerated,” bulldozers can apparently discover their purpose rather quickly.
Good.
Retrieve every inch of temple and shrine land that has been illegally occupied.
Nobody should object.
But then apply the same principle to Kashmiri Pandit property.
Otherwise, the message becomes embarrassingly clear:
*Temple land can be recovered when it serves the narrative; Pandit land can wait when its recovery threatens the local political and economic ecosystem.*
And the Pandit?
He is expected to be grateful.
Grateful for a PM Package job.
Grateful for a security detail.
Grateful for a festival invitation.
Grateful for a Litfest panel.
Grateful for being told that Kashmir has changed.
But if he asks, “Can I have my house back?”
Suddenly the system develops a headache.
If he asks, “Can I have my shop back?”
The file develops a problem.
If he produces a court order: “Please approach the concerned authority.”
And if he approaches the concerned authority?
“The matter is under consideration.”
This is not governance.
This is bureaucratic attrition masquerading as administration.
And one is left wondering about the role of the non-local administration itself.
Is it merely marking time?
Is it paralysed by political considerations?
Or, more seriously, have vested interests penetrated the system deeply enough to make genuine enforcement uncomfortable?
*No one knows. And the administration doesn’t appear particularly interested in helping anyone find out.*
Meanwhile, Delhi can organise another film festival.
Srinagar can host another Litfest.
Delegates can discuss peace, pluralism, culture and Kashmiriyat over coffee.
Photographs can be taken.
Speeches can be delivered.
Social media can announce that “Kashmir is finally at peace.”
Wonderful.
But peace is a rather curious commodity if the original inhabitants of the Valley still cannot confidently reclaim their own immovable property.
You can have a hundred film festivals.
You can have a thousand literary festivals.
You can invite the world to celebrate the “new Kashmir.”
But a festival cannot evict an encroacher.
A panel discussion cannot enforce a court order.
A cultural evening cannot restore a Pandit’s house.
And no amount of public-relations choreography can substitute for equal citizenship.
India may well have restored peace in the land of the Rishis.
But there appears to be one small qualification in the fine print:
The Rishis’ descendants are welcome to visit.
They may even be given government jobs.
They may attend festivals.
They may speak about Kashmir.
Just don’t expect the State to be in too much of a hurry to give them back their land.
Because that would require something far more inconvenient than a slogan.
It would require the rule of law.
(NOTE: The author is a regular contributor on Kashmir and security issues and has authored two books on Kashmir, the latest being Kashmir Insurgency – Deconstructing the State Response.)
