I Ahmed Wani
On April 28, 2025, the Jammu and Kashmir Legislative Assembly convened a special session to mourn the tragic loss of 26 lives in the horrific Pahalgam terror attack. Amidst the grief and outrage, CPI(M) MLA Muhammad Yousuf Tarigami delivered a speech that resonated with the pain of Kashmir’s people, cutting through the noise of divisive narratives. His words—“Terrorists have no religion, Kashmiri Muslims have faced the brunt of terrorism”—echoed a truth long buried under the weight of communal rhetoric. Tarigami’s impassioned plea for justice, his critique of punitive demolitions, and his advocacy for the marginalized victims of this unending conflict deserve more than fleeting applause. They demand a reckoning with the policies and perceptions that continue to alienate Kashmiris while failing to address the roots of terror.
The Pahalgam attack, executed on April 22, 2025, at the serene Baisaran meadow, was a calculated act of brutality. Claimed by The Resistance Front (TRF), a proxy of Pakistan-based Lashkar-e-Taiba, it targeted tourists, killing 26, including a Nepali citizen, and injuring over 20. The attackers’ selective targeting of Hindu males, as reported by intelligence sources, was designed to inflame communal tensions. Yet, as Tarigami pointed out, the real victims are the people of Jammu and Kashmir—Muslims, Hindus, and others—who have endured decades of violence. From the assassination of political leaders like Wali Muhammad Yatoo to clerics like Mirwaiz Farooq and Qazi Nisar, the blood spilled in Kashmir transcends religious lines. “The sole aim of terrorists is to spread terror,” Tarigami said, rejecting attempts by some media houses to paint the attack as a Hindu-Muslim conflict.
Tarigami’s speech was not just a condemnation of terrorism but a scathing critique of the state’s response, particularly the demolition of homes belonging to families of alleged terrorists. In the wake of the Pahalgam attack, security forces razed six such houses, leaving families homeless and neighbors grappling with collateral damage. Tarigami’s question—“If a son is guilty, can the family be blamed?”—challenges the morality and legality of collective punishment. The right to shelter, enshrined in India’s Constitution, cannot be trampled under the guise of counter-terrorism. When a neighbor’s home is destroyed because of one individual’s actions, what message does it send to the community? It risks alienating the very people needed to fight terrorism, as Tarigami warned: “The real victims are the people of J&K. They should not be alienated.”
The Supreme Court of India has unequivocally condemned such “bulldozer justice” in its landmark ruling on the Prayagraj demolition case. The court’s observations are a damning indictment of the state’s actions:
1. Violation of Due Process: The court held that demolitions without a minimum 15-day notice and an opportunity for the accused to be heard violate due process.
2. Unconstitutional Collective Punishment: Bulldozing homes amounts to punishing entire families for the actions of one, a practice the court deemed unconstitutional.
3. Denigration of Rule of Law: Such actions undermine the authority of courts and violate the principle of separation of powers, with the state acting as judge and executioner.
4. Violation of Fundamental Rights: The right to shelter is a fundamental right, and its denial through arbitrary demolitions is a breach of constitutional protections.
5. Lawless State of Affairs: The court warned that such acts promote a “might is right” mentality, fostering a lawless state.
The Supreme Court further mandated that victims of illegal demolitions be compensated, with costs recoverable from the salaries of officials responsible. Most critically, it declared such actions as contempt of court, emphasizing that continuing demolitions in defiance of its orders undermines judicial authority. The ongoing demolitions in Kashmir, therefore, are not just a policy misstep but a direct challenge to the rule of law. The state must heed the spirit of this judgment, which demands accountability, adherence to legal processes, and respect for fundamental rights. Under the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act, the state can attach property owned by an accused terrorist, but only after following due legal procedures and ensuring the property is in the accused’s name. Arbitrary demolitions bypass these safeguards, replacing justice with vengeance.
The case of Shameema Akhtar, wife of Maqsood Ahmed Sheikh from Uri, highlights the complexities of state actions in Kashmir. Initial reports suggested that Shameema, mother of Shaurya Chakra recipient Mudasir Sheikh, faced deportation as an “illegal Pakistani national.” Mudasir, a Jammu and Kashmir police officer, was honored by President Droupadi Murmu in 2023 for his bravery, with his family celebrated as a symbol of Kashmiri valor. However, on April 29, 2025, the Baramulla Police Media Cell issued a rebuttal, denying these reports as “false, baseless, and categorically denied,” urging the public and media to refrain from spreading misinformation. This clarification underscores the need for accurate reporting and the potential harm of unverified narratives, which can exacerbate tensions and misrepresent the struggles of families like Mudasir’s.
Similarly, the story of Syed Adil Hussain Shah, a Kashmiri Shia Muslim killed during the Pahalgam attack while attempting to wrest a rifle from a terrorist, underscores the courage of ordinary Kashmiris. His sacrifice, like that of countless others, is a reminder that the fight against terrorism is not a Hindu or Muslim cause but a human one. Yet, the backlash against Kashmiri students and traders in cities like Dehradun and Jalandhar, as reported by Al Jazeera, shows how quickly communal narratives take hold. Kashmiri Muslims, far from being complicit, are often the first victims of terrorism and the suspicion it breeds.
Tarigami’s advocacy is not new. In 2005, he moved a resolution in the J&K Assembly urging the government to facilitate the return of Kashmiri youth who had crossed the Line of Control (LoC) during the turmoil but wished to live peacefully. The resolution, debated in 2006, was rejected by the ruling alliance, but Tarigami’s argument—“What is impossible today may be possible tomorrow”—was prophetic. Many of those youth, lured or coerced into militancy, could have been reintegrated into society, preventing further radicalization. His call for rehabilitation over retribution was rooted in a vision of peace that contrasts sharply with today’s punitive measures.
Contrast Tarigami’s stance with the silence of other political leaders. PDP’s Waheed Parra, known for his vocal advocacy, has remained muted on the demolitions. Sajad Lone, who courted Jamaat-e-Islami during elections, has not spoken for the families displaced by the crackdown. Even the newly formed political outfits tied to Jamaat have avoided addressing the plight of Kupwara and Bandipora youth killed in encounters. Tarigami’s willingness to speak for the voiceless, despite being labeled a “leftist traitor” by some on social media, highlights his commitment to the marginalized. As one X post noted, “Ya maslahat ki khamoshi leaders ko Mubarak, ma mazdoor hou oor mozdoru ko represent karta hou Tarigami proved”—a testament to his role as a champion of the working class.
The Pahalgam attack has reignited Indo-Pak tensions, with India suspending the Indus Waters Treaty and deporting Pakistani nationals. While these measures signal a strong stance against cross-border terrorism, they risk escalating a conflict that thrives on division. Tarigami’s call for introspection—“We need to see the gap somewhere which led to the Pahalgam incident”—is a reminder that security lapses, not just external conspiracies, enabled the attack. The Baisaran meadow, a high-security zone near the Amarnath shrine, should not have been vulnerable. Instead of scapegoating Kashmiris, the government must strengthen intelligence and preventive mechanisms, as strategic experts have argued.
The media, too, has a role to play. Outlook India’s decision to avoid circulating gory videos from the attack site and to refrain from fueling communal rage is a model of responsible journalism. As they noted, “Terrorists don’t have any religion. Their religion is murder.” This aligns with Tarigami’s plea to reject divisive narratives and focus on the shared humanity of Kashmir’s people.
Ultimately, Tarigami’s speech is a call for justice that transcends politics. It is a plea to recognize the suffering of Kashmiris—Muslim, Hindu, or otherwise—who have lost loved ones, homes, and dignity to a conflict not of their making. It is a demand to uphold the rule of law, as reinforced by the Supreme Court, protect the innocent, and rebuild trust with a community weary of being caught in the crossfire. As India navigates the fallout of the Pahalgam attack, it must heed Tarigami’s warning: alienating Kashmiris aids the terrorists’ goal of division and fear. The path to peace lies in compassion, accountability, and a united stand against those who wield terror as a weapon. Anything less is a betrayal of the very values India holds dear.
