Ex-MLC GL Raina
“The more things change, the more they stay the same.”
The famous aphorism coined by French writer Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr in 1849 continues to resonate across societies and political systems. It reflects a recurring reality: institutions change, leaders change, slogans change, yet the underlying attitudes and patterns often remain remarkably constant.
Few situations illustrate this better than the contemporary discourse surrounding the displacement of Kashmiri Hindus.
For more than three decades, the tragedy of the 1989–90 exodus remained trapped within competing narratives. Each side repeated its own version of events, rarely engaging with the other’s experiences. The result was an uneasy equilibrium in which positions hardened, mistrust deepened, and meaningful dialogue became nearly impossible.
The displaced community found itself at a particular disadvantage. Removed from its homeland, deprived of demographic strength within the Valley, and lacking institutional support, it struggled to have its concerns acknowledged in the broader political discourse. Yet despite exile, the community never severed its emotional bond with Kashmir. Successive generations continued to seek ways to reconnect with their ancestral land and preserve a civilisational relationship that displacement could not erase.
One illustration of institutional indifference is the continuing controversy over the number of Kashmiri Hindus killed during the years of terrorism. In 2009, the Jammu and Kashmir legislature was informed that 209 members of the community had been killed; later the figure became 219. No comprehensive list accompanied these numbers. No detailed explanation was provided. Efforts to obtain the supporting records yielded little clarity for even a legislator like me.
The issue extends beyond statistics. Numbers shape narratives, and narratives shape public opinion. In discussions concerning the exodus of Kashmiri Hindus, these figures are frequently invoked to minimise the scale of the tragedy. The debate is often diverted from the reality of displacement to an argument over whether the number of victims was sufficiently large to justify the fear and trauma that compelled an entire community to flee.
What makes this particularly striking is the selective manner in which official figures are treated. Those who insist on accepting official numbers regarding the deaths of Kashmiri Hindus often reject official data when it concerns the broader conflict in Jammu and Kashmir.
According to official records and data maintained by government agencies, the total fatalities resulting from terrorism and militancy in Jammu and Kashmir since 1989 are substantially below the exaggerated figures often circulated in political discourse. It stands around 45000. The cumulative toll includes civilians, security personnel, and terrorists. More than 22,000 terrorists have been killed, around 13,000 civilians have lost their lives at the hands of terroriss, and over 6,000 security personnel have made the ultimate sacrifice. The remaining fatalities occurred in crossfire and related circumstances.
The question therefore is simple. If official data is considered credible in one context, why is it dismissed in another? Either official figures deserve consistent treatment, or all such statistics should be subjected to the same standards of scrutiny. Selective acceptance of facts does not advance truth; it merely advances preferred narratives.
This selective approach has contributed significantly to Kashmir’s fractured memory of the conflict. Different communities acknowledge different victims, emphasise different tragedies, and often speak past one another rather than engaging with the full human cost of the violence.
Equally important is the question of how minorities of Kashmir assess the social and political environment in which they are expected to rebuild their lives.
Recent events surrounding the annual Kheer Bhawani pilgrimage have brought this issue into sharp focus. On June 18, Chief Minister Omar Abdullah visited the revered shrine of Mata Ragnya Devi at Tulmulla in Ganderbal to review preparations for the annual mela. During the visit, he paid obeisance at the shrine and participated in the customary ritual of offering milk to the sacred spring.
Ordinarily, this would not have attracted attention. Muslim political leaders across decades have visited the shrine as a gesture of respect and shared cultural heritage. Former Chief Minister Mehbooba Mufti herself has previously participated in similar rituals during her visits to the shrine.
What made this occasion different was the reaction that followed. Sections of social media and certain ideological circles subjected the Chief Minister to criticism and trolling merely for participating in a ritual associated with a Hindu place of worship. The criticism became significant enough for members of his party to publicly defend his actions.
A few days later, when Mehbooba Mufti visited the shrine, observers noted that she refrained from performing the ritual that she had participated in during earlier visits. Whether this decision was influenced by the controversy or not is ultimately for her to explain. Yet the sequence of events inevitably raises questions.
For the displaced Kashmiri Hindu community, the issue is not about a ritual involving milk or a temple visit. It is about what these reactions reveal regarding the pressures operating within society. If senior political leaders, possessing authority, visibility, and institutional power, are compelled to calibrate their conduct in response to pressure from radical or intolerant elements, what confidence can ordinary minorities draw about their own ability to live securely and freely?
These concerns cannot be dismissed as paranoia or political posturing. They arise from lived experience and from memories of a period when intimidation gradually became normalised before eventually culminating in displacement. Any serious conversation about rehabilitation must therefore address not only physical infrastructure and employment opportunities but also the broader social climate in which minorities are expected to rebuild their lives.
Trust cannot be legislated into existence. It has to be earned through consistent actions that demonstrate that pluralism is not merely celebrated in speeches but defended when challenged.
No meaningful reconciliation can emerge without engagement. Genuine dialogue requires people to listen to experiences that challenge their assumptions and acknowledge truths that may be uncomfortable.
Importantly, the disagreement is no longer confined to interpretations of the past. There are equally profound differences regarding the future, particularly on the question of return and rehabilitation.
For many displaced Kashmiri Hindus, return cannot simply mean going back to a house or locality. The memories of intimidation, targeted killings, social isolation, and eventual displacement remain vivid. What they seek is not merely physical relocation but a return accompanied by security, dignity, confidence, and credible institutional guarantees.
At the same time, many within the majority community view alternative rehabilitation models with suspicion, fearing that separate arrangements could deepen social divisions. Thus, both sides often approach the same issue from fundamentally different perspectives.
These concerns are not peripheral. They lie at the heart of any discussion on dignified rehabilitation and long-term coexistence.
The encouraging development is that dialogue has finally begun. The danger is that vested political interests may seek to derail it. For decades, many political actors found comfort in preserving old divisions because those divisions sustained established narratives and political constituencies.
The displaced community’s recent efforts to engage directly with Kashmiri society represent a bold departure from the past. Rather than speaking only through intermediaries, it is seeking conversation, recognition, and understanding. Whether this process succeeds will depend on whether society allows these conversations to continue honestly and whether political interests resist the temptation to reduce every discussion to partisan advantage.
Kashmir’s future cannot be built on selective memory, competitive victimhood, or inherited suspicion. It can only emerge from an honest reckoning with the past and a shared commitment to a future in which every community feels secure, respected, and genuinely at home.
The churn has begun. The question is whether it will be allowed to take the right turn.
( Girdhari Lal Raina is a former Member of the legislative council of Jammu Kashmir and spokesperson of BJP JK-UT)
