Basharat Bhat
The tender bosom of the Kashmir Valley recounts stories of both beauty and grief. One such story, deeply painful, is that the scars of terror have long remained unacknowledged, unheard, and unrecognized—etched into the hearts of innumerable families. For decades, the narrative surrounding Jammu and Kashmir was shaped by externally sponsored terror, trapping its people in a furnace of violence. Their sacrifices were frequently reduced to footnotes in a broader political discourse.
In contrast to this history of neglect, Honourable Lieutenant Governor Shri Manoj Sinha has emerged as a symbol of compassion, administering an emotional balm to those whose loved ones were ruthlessly taken by terrorism. His efforts, grounded in humanity above all else, have amplified the voices of the unheard, reigniting hope for justice and dignity among families long pushed to the margins of society.
I write this column with profound sorrow, for the pain of loss is not an abstract concept to me. More than a decade ago, a second cousin from my maternal lineage—a young girl whose laughter once filled my maternal village in South Kashmir—fell victim to the same terror that has afflicted so many. Her only ‘crime’ was that her father dared to vote for a leader the extremists condemned as a “godless communist,” and that he refused to yield to the dictates of the pirates of violence. Her horrific murder mirrored the fate of thousands across the valley, and was met not with public grief, but with silence—silence rooted in stigma. Families of victims were marked, shamed, and ostracized, branded with terms like mukhbiri and gaddari.
It is this veil of shame and isolation that Shri Manoj Sinha’s initiatives have begun to lift. His efforts provide not only material support, but, more importantly, recognition that the sacrifices of these families matter.
For too long, the families of terror victims in Jammu and Kashmir have been invisibilized, their stories buried beneath competing narratives. While the media and political discourse often amplified the voices of conflict entrepreneurs, those who lost husbands, wives, children, or siblings to terrorism were left to grieve in silence. Most of these victims’ families belonged to non-upper caste, working-class, and peasant backgrounds. They were not just bereaved; they were abandoned. Their pain was dismissed as an inconvenience in the larger political tapestry.
Survey any corner of Kashmir, and you will find a family scarred by terrorism. Yet for more than two decades, they have lived in shadows, denied recognition or closure. Their grief was compounded by the absence of justice, dignity, or even acknowledgment. The failure of successive dispensations to address their plight became a wound as deep as the violence itself.
Lieutenant Governor Manoj Sinha has marked a seismic shift in this approach. Unlike his predecessors, he has chosen to foreground the victims of terrorism not as political pawns, but as human beings deserving of respect and support. His administration’s initiatives—appointment letters for the next of kin of terror victims, financial aid, self-employment opportunities, and re-opening of legal proceedings including FIRs—have breathed life into communities long suffocated by despair and marginalization.
The establishment of a dedicated web portal and district-level helplines has streamlined access to relief, sparing families the ordeal of navigating bureaucratic labyrinths. These steps, though administrative in nature, carry deep emotional significance. For victim families, to be seen, heard, and recognized is a form of healing that goes beyond material assistance. It affirms that their loved ones’ lives were not in vain, and that their defiance of terror is now part of Kashmir’s living memory.
What sets Shri Manoj Sinha’s approach apart is its freedom from the political intrigues that have long plagued our region. His focus is not on appeasing one community or vilifying another, but on restoring humanity to a discourse too often stripped of it. By prioritizing families of terror victims, irrespective of religion or political affiliation, he has challenged divisive narratives that once pitted communities against one another. His warning to “conflict entrepreneurs” who profit from violence was a bold declaration of intent to dismantle the ecosystem sustaining terror.
This resonates deeply with me. My cousin’s death was not only a personal tragedy but also part of a wider malaise. She was killed for her family’s defiance against terror, a defiance that exacted the ultimate cost. For years, her story—like so many others—was buried under silence. Shri Manoj Sinha’s initiatives have begun to unearth such stories, giving families a voice and the courage to demand justice. His promise to investigate unresolved cases, including those of Kashmiri Pandits and others targeted by terror, is a step toward accountability few dared before him.
Even today, I can recall my cousin’s radiant eyes, shimmering with dreams that remained unfulfilled. Her entire world was her village by the stream in South Kashmir. Her murder was not just the loss of life but the murder of hope—a wound that continues to fester in her parents’ hearts. But now, witnessing families like hers being recognized under the current administration evokes something we had long abandoned: hope.
Hope that justice, though delayed, is not impossible. Hope that dignity, even when denied, can be restored. This is not to say the wounds are healed. The pain of loss is eternal, and the road to justice remains long. Yet, Shri Manoj Sinha’s tenure marks the beginning of a healing era—an era where the state acknowledges its debt to those who paid the ultimate price for peace.
For every victim of terror, this is a lifeline. It is a promise that their sacrifices will not be erased by time or politics. It is a call to all of us to honour these families, amplify their voices, and ensure that Jammu and Kashmir’s future is built on the foundation of their resilience.
(Note:Basharat Bhat is Academic, based in Srinagar, with interest in culture, politics and society)
