Fifth column: The Bijbehara massacre

Twenty-four years ago, on the 22nd of October, 1993, Bijbehara, my hometown, was struck by a vicious massacre that killed scores of peaceful protesters who were demanding revocation of the military siege of the famous shrine, Dargah Hazratbal.

According to the state government’s own magisterial enquiry report, “a procession of 2,000 to 3,000 people” that was “entirely peaceful and unarmed” was attacked by the paramilitary Border Security Force (BSF). The report establishes “beyond any shadow of doubt that [the] firing upon the procession was absolutely unprovoked” and found that the paramilitary force “committed offence out of vengeance and their barbarous act … [was] deliberate and well-planned”.

The brutality of the official insensitivity can be gauged from the fact that, despite two and a half decades since the massacre, the actual number of the slain is unknown and remains disputed. The official enquiry claimed the BSF killed 31 civilians and injured 73 persons, but unofficial accounts variously talk of 50 or even more deaths. An Amnesty International report put the civilian death toll at over 70. More than 200 were injured, some of them seriously, and many with serious life-altering injuries. The enquiry report “recommended the immediate dismissal” of the murderous personnel, and “initiation of criminal proceedings” to “ensure that justice is done and maximum possible punishment under the law of the land is awarded to such malignant and sick minded individuals”. Like scores of other massacres in Kashmir, justice eludes both the victims and the perpetrators of this massacre.        

A week before the massacre, the Kashmir valley was plunged into deep crisis due to what is known as the Hazratbal siege. On   October 14, the Indian armed forces laid a siege to the sacred Hazratbal shrine, a white marbled dome structure with imposing minarets on the banks of the famous Dal Lake. The shrine holds a lock of Prophet Muhammad (pbuh), known as   moe-e-muqaddus, making it the most revered monument in the province. It attracts millions of devotees annually, mainly on special occasions of the Islamic calendar, when people from everywhere come for a glimpse of the holy lock that is revealed from atop all the four minarets to afford a glance to the devotees thronging in all directions. Because of the siege, all of Kashmir was put under total lockdown through curfews and spontaneous strikes, and hence the resultant public demonstrations demanding the military embargo. Be lifted.

The Bijbehara massacre remains one of the cruellest state-enacted murders. The official enquiry report establishes that it was thoroughly planned with active input from senior operational authorities. Out of the 22 martyrs from the town who are buried in the local martyr’s graveyard, previously a public park, 16 were teenagers, all of them students. Afroz Ahmed Zarger was the youngest of all – he was barely 12 years old and studying in class 5 when the bullets snatched him. He wanted to become a doctor and was known to be a hard-working student.

Most of the slain students had big dreams for their life. More than a dozen of them wanted to become medical doctors. Javed Ahmed Waza, 18, Sheikh Shabir Ahmad, 17, and Shabir Ahmad Shah, 18, all wanted to become doctors.        So did Mukhtar Ahmed Ganaie, 18; Muhammad Iqbal Ganaie, 17; Altaf Hussain Sheikh, 15; Riyaz Ahmed Gatoo, 15; Abdul Rashid Vaid, 17; Mushtaq Ahmed Ganaie, 18; Muhammad Shafi, Wagay, 18; and Muhammad Ashraf Zargar, 14.

I fondly remember Arshid Hussain Tak, 17, whom I had known for a long time. He also wanted to be a doctor. Several months before the massacre, Arshid had carved his name on one of the concrete fence walls of the then public park that was converted to the martyr’s graveyard following the massacre. Arshid got a place within the grounds of his favourite park, albeit a berth for eternal rest. Several years later, his father – also a doctor – was killed in cold blood by government-sponsored militia gunmen.

One unique thing about the massacre, though by no means any reason for consolation, is that one of those murdered was a Hindu. Kamal Ji Koul was 17 years old and a student of class 7. Like the rest of the townsfolk, he was part of the protest demonstration. I vividly remember my visit to his family in the old town and the pain and the disbelief of his parents was heart-wrenching. According to local reports, his mother was left so heartbroken that she died within a couple of years after her son’s death – a phenomenon repeated in several such instances where mothers are unable to cope with the loss and perish soon after. Although Kashmiri women have shown unprecedented resilience, they have been the worst sufferers of the brutality that remains under the control and direction of men of diverse ideologies and operating architectures.      

Twitter: @murtaza_shibli