Kashmir’s Silent Agony of Disappearances

Kashmir’s Silent Agony of Disappearances

A chilling pattern of disappearances, alleged custodial deaths and violence has once again gripped Jammu and Kashmir—this time casting a dark shadow over the region’s marginalised Gujjar tribal community.

Altaf Hussain Wani

A recent investigative report by Al Jazeera, combined with harrowing testimonies from families and activists, has reignited long-standing accusations of systemic impunity and human rights abuses. The government’s claims of "normalcy" stand in stark contrast to the grief and anger of communities grappling with unexplained deaths and a legacy of fear.


The deaths of two brothers, Riyaz and Showkat Ahmad from Kulgam district, epitomise the terror haunting Kashmir’s villages. The siblings went missing in February 2025 and were later found dead in a canal. Authorities attributed their deaths to drowning or suicide, but their families and local residents rejected these claims. Visible signs of physical trauma on their bodies, along with the disappearance of another youth, Mukhtar Ahmad Awan—who remains missing—have fuelled suspicions of foul play.


The Gujjar community, a historically marginalised pastoral group, has borne the brunt of Kashmir’s decades-long conflict. Their remote settlements and limited political influence make them especially vulnerable.


Al Jazeera’s investigation highlights how the state’s narrative of "law and order" collapses under the weight of community testimonies. "How can two brothers drown together? Their bodies bore marks of violence. We know the truth, but who will listen to us?" asked a relative of the Ahmad brothers, echoing a sentiment of despair across the valley.


In a tragic escalation of this despair, on 6 February, 25-year-old Makhan Din from Perody Kathua took his own life following brutal torture by police and paramilitary forces. In a heartbreaking video recorded prior to his death, Din detailed the inhumane treatment he endured and the coercion he faced to confess to false charges. His suicide, widely shared on social media, exposed the intimidation tactics used against communities suspected of harbouring sympathies for militants.


Following the video’s circulation, security forces launched a crackdown, detaining journalists and activists who had amplified Din’s allegations. Simultaneously, reports surfaced of non-local labourers—migrants from impoverished regions of India—disappearing under mysterious circumstances.


While officials blamed militants, activists allege the disappearances reflect a broader pattern of enforced silence. "These non-locals are pawns in a larger game. Their disappearances are meant to signal that no one is safe," observed a Srinagar-based human rights lawyer.

Poonch Torture Deaths

Distrust deepened further in December 2023 when three civilians—Shabir Ahmed, Safeer Ahmed, and Mohammad Showkat—were allegedly tortured to death by soldiers in Poonch. The men were among 13 civilians detained after a militant attack on an Army convoy that killed four soldiers. Their battered bodies returned to families days later, exposed a brutal reality: extrajudicial punishment carried out under the guise of counterinsurgency.


The incident triggered outrage even in areas like Rajouri-Poonch, which was historically seen as less sympathetic to militancy. Mehbooba Mufti, former Chief Minister of Jammu and Kashmir, lambasted the government’s claims of peace, asking: "Is this Naya (New) Kashmir?" She alleged that 12 others from Topa Pir village were hospitalised with torture injuries, highlighting the widespread nature of the abuse.


In a paradoxical twist, Wali Mohammad, father of the deceased Shabir Ahmed, now plans to send his grandson to an Army school. "The wounds will never heal, but we want the next generation to have opportunities we never did," he said—a bittersweet reflection of both the desperation for normalcy and the entrenched power dynamics that leave families with little choice.


The 2020 Amshipora "encounter" in Shopian district laid bare the deadly consequences of militarisation. Three Kashmiri labourers—including a minor—were lured to an orchard, killed by Army personnel, and branded as "foreign terrorists" to claim a ₹20 lakh cash reward. Investigations later confirmed the victims were innocent daily-wage workers.


This was not an isolated case. In 2000, the Pathribal fake encounter saw five civilians executed by the Army, falsely accused of massacring 35 Sikhs. Despite the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) indicting five officers, the Army invoked the Armed Forces Special Powers Act (AFSPA) to block prosecutions, citing immunity. Similarly, the 2010 Machil encounter involved three labourers from Baramulla killed near the Line of Control (LoC) under fabricated charges of infiltration.


Though a court-martial convicted five personnel, their sentences were widely criticised as tokenistic. "Machil was a rare admission of guilt, but the light punishments showed the system protects its own," said Parvez Imroz, a prominent human rights defender.

These cases, spanning decades, reveal a culture where financial incentives and promotions drive extrajudicial killings. The AFSPA shields perpetrators, perpetuating a cycle of violence with little hope of justice.


Crisis of Impunity

Kashmir’s conflict as per unofficial estimates relying on media reports has claimed over 96,000 lives since 1989, with more than 8,000 enforced disappearances documented by human rights groups. The Gujjar community, often trapped between militants and counterinsurgency forces, faces dual marginalisation: distrusted by the state and vulnerable to exploitation by armed groups.


In this scenario, the Indian army’s recent attempts at "image makeovers"—organising youth events, reopening schools, and promoting development projects—ring hollow for many. Following the Poonch deaths, Lt. General Upendra Dwivedi vowed "zero tolerance" for human rights violations, but survivors remain sceptical.


"We’ve heard these promises before. Nothing changes," said a survivor of the 1990s Kunan Poshpora mass rape case, which remains buried in legal limbo.


From Pathribal to Poonch, Kashmir’s history is scarred by state violence and institutionalised impunity. The plight of the Gujjar community, Makhan Din’s suicide, and the targeting of non-locals expose a crisis where truth is the first casualty. International bodies, including the United Nations, have repeatedly called for independent investigations, but India continues to dismiss these as unwarranted interference. Until systemic changes are made, Kashmir’s silent agony will endure—marked by graves without names, cries without answers, and a future without justice.

The writer is Chairman, Kashmir Institute of International Relations (KIIR), Islamabad. He can be reached via email: saleeemwani@hotmail.com

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