On March 15, 2025, the rugged hills of Kulgam in Jammu and Kashmir became the somber backdrop for a grim mystery: the suspicious deaths of two nomads, their bodies discovered under circumstances that defy easy explanation. These were not high-profile figures or political players—just two souls from the Gujjar-Bakarwal community, a nomadic group that makes up roughly 11.9% of the region’s population, according to the 2011 Census, and whose lives are defined by resilience amid neglect. Their deaths are a gut punch to a region already staggering under the weight of its troubled past. Justice for them is non-negotiable. But the unholy rush to splash political paint over this tragedy threatens to drown out their humanity—and the fragile peace of Jammu and Kashmir—with it.
The facts, as they stand, are sparse but chilling. Local reports suggest the two were found in a remote area, with initial speculation ranging from foul play to an encounter gone wrong. The Jammu and Kashmir Police have launched an investigation, but no official statement has yet clarified the cause—whether it was targeted violence, an accident, or something more insidious. In a region where 2024 saw a 22% dip in civilian deaths from violence (down to 34 from 44 in 2023, per the South Asia Terrorism Portal), every unexplained loss reverberates louder. For the nomadic communities, who often lack access to basic services—only 38% of Gujjar-Bakarwal households have electricity, per a 2022 state survey—this vulnerability is a daily reality. Their deaths demand answers, not agendas.
Yet, even before the dust has settled, the vultures of politics are circling. Whispers of militancy, accusations of state failure, and cries of ethnic targeting are already swirling in the air, amplified by a polarized media and a restive social media ecosystem. This is not new. In 2023 alone, Jammu and Kashmir saw 15 FIRs filed over inflammatory posts on X, according to police records, a testament to how swiftly tragedy morphs into a weapon here. To politicize these killings is to gamble with a region that has clawed its way toward stability—2024 marked the lowest number of terror incidents (120) in a decade, per government data. The peace dividend, though fragile, is real: tourist arrivals soared to 2.1 million last year. Will we let two deaths unravel this?
The nomads deserve justice—swift, transparent, and untainted. The police must deliver, and the state must ensure the Gujjar-Bakarwal community, long sidelined, isn’t left to grieve in silence. But justice cannot come at the cost of more blood. If history is any guide, political exploitation of such incidents fans flames that burn indiscriminately. The 2016 unrest, sparked by a single killing, claimed 96 lives and injured over 15,000 in four months, per official figures. Kashmir cannot afford a sequel.
This is a moment for restraint, not rhetoric. The nomads’ deaths should ignite a fierce demand for accountability and protection for the vulnerable—whose literacy rate hovers at a dismal 42%, per the 2011 Census—not a bonfire of division. Let the investigation cut through the fog of speculation. Let the guilty face the law. But let us not sacrifice the peace of millions on the altar of political opportunism. Jammu and Kashmir has buried too many; it’s time to let the living breathe.
