Kashmir today swims like a fragile fish in murky waters, trapped between two crocodiles, the Indian army with its guns, and the BJP with its decrees. In this suffocating river, lives like Sikandar’s are swallowed silently. The population of historic Kashmir is divided into about 10 million people in Indian-administered Jammu and Kashmir, where daily life is overshadowed by barbed wires, bunkers, and new laws. The people face not just militarization, but also a slow and deliberate effort to change their land, their identity, and their future.
Since August 2019, after the abrogation of Article 370 and 35A, the Indian government has pushed policies that allow outsiders to buy land in Kashmir. What was once a protected homeland has now been opened like a property market. Lands where families lived for centuries, fields that carried the memory of generations, and houses that held Kashmiri culture are now being targeted by investors and corporations with political backing. Many Kashmiris describe it as the government acting like a property dealer of their land.
International humanitarian law and the Geneva Conventions clearly prohibit demographic engineering in occupied territories. The forced transfer of land ownership, or altering the demographic character of a disputed region, is considered illegal under international law. Yet, in Kashmir, these principles are ignored. By selling land to outsiders and settling non-Kashmiris, India is reshaping the region’s demography against the will of its people.
For Sikandar (name changed) resident of Qupwara and countless others, this is not just about property, it is about existence. Owning land in Kashmir has always been tied to dignity and survival. Losing it feels like losing a part of themselves. Each new decree by the BJP-led government takes away a layer of security and identity from the Kashmiri people.
Critics argue that these policies are part of a larger plan to silence political resistance by turning Kashmiris into a minority in their own homeland. What cannot be achieved through bullets is now being attempted through real estate. The story of Kashmir today is not only about military checkpoints or curfews. It is also about land deeds, registries, and property transfers carried out under the shadow of occupation. Behind every new law lies the quiet suffering of a population whose voice has been silenced.
Kashmir stands at a dangerous crossroads. International law offers protection, but without global attention and accountability, the bulldozers and decrees will continue to erase centuries of heritage. The land that once belonged to its people risks being taken away piece by piece. And in this struggle,
Kashmiris like Sikandar remain trapped, watching their homeland slowly turn into a market, while the world stays silent. Here, in this land of centuries-old culture and history, the question remains: when will justice arrive for the people of Kashmir?