Thirty-five years ago, on November 4, 1989, Judge  Neelkanth Ganjoo’s body lay unattended—an unsettling reminder of the fear that gripped the valley

Kashmir Rechords’ Tributes

On a crisp November 4 morning in 1989, a figure strolled out of a local Bank on Hari Singh High Street in Srinagar, unaware that these steps would be his last. Judge Neelkanth Ganjoo, a retired yet resolute man of 72, was leaving his last public errand, his life soon to be cut short by a group of terrorists lurking nearby. As they approached him in broad daylight, they brought not only an end to a life devoted to justice but also plunged an entire community of Kashmiri Pandits into fear and sorrow. The tragic irony lies here: the man who had delivered justice to countless others was denied it himself, even 35 years later. His soul, like those of many others, seems to be waiting—crying out for the justice he had once so boldly represented.

Judge Ganjoo’s life, much like his death, was marked by acts of immense courage. He was a Kashmiri Pandit and a towering figure in the judicial world of Jammu and Kashmir. Between 1966 and 1968, he presided over a sensational and deeply polarizing trial: that of Maqbool Butt, co-founder of the Jammu and Kashmir Liberation Front (JKLF), charged with the murder of police constable Amar Chand. The trial ended with Judge Ganjoo pronouncing the death sentence on Butt in August 1968, a decision that would haunt him until his final day. Over the years, attempts on his life became a grim routine, as newspapers of that era reported that no fewer than six attempts had been made at his home in Karan Nagar. Despite the serious threats, he was denied elaborate  protection. And on that fateful day of  November 4, 1989, his assassins succeeded.

As his lifeless body lay in the street for hours, unmoved and unattended, Srinagar went back to its usual humdrum life. Buses resumed their routes, shops reopened, and people went about their daily business, some averting their gaze, others too terrified to even approach. Eventually, a few brave Policemen risked their own safety to retrieve his body, but even that final act of dignity came too late.

The Soul That Still Cries for Justice

In August 2023, thirty-four years after Judge Ganjoo’s assassination, the Jammu and Kashmir Police’s State Investigation Agency (SIA) issued a public communiqué asking for assistance to solve the case. With promises of protection and rewards for any information, they rekindled hope for answers.

But to the family, this seemed like pouring salt into old wounds. It was, as they put it, “too little, too late.” After so many years of waiting, they feared the renewed investigation might only deepen their pain. After all, decades had passed with the killers evading justice, and the world had moved on, leaving Judge Ganjoo’s family to grapple with their grief alone. More than a year has passed since this public notice was published in newspapers, but no headway has reportedly been met till date.

Judge Ganjoo’s killing was not an isolated tragedy; it was a calculated move to strike fear into the heart of the Kashmiri Pandit community, a second high-profile murder after the assassination of BJP leader Tika Lal Taploo. These targeted killings became part of a larger campaign of terror, aiming to drive the Pandits from their homeland not  by choice but  by force. Thousands were forced into exile, leaving behind the land their ancestors had cherished for centuries.

The memory of Judge Ganjoo’s assassination still looms like a shadow over the justice system he once upheld. Even now, his soul lingers, echoing through the annals of history, asking for the very justice he had delivered to so many. His was a life committed to principles, bound by duty. And as the valley’s wounds from those dark days remain unhealed, the judge’s silent cry for justice reverberates—a poignant reminder of the forgotten, of a life sacrificed, and a soul still waiting for peace.