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Prem Nath Bhat: A Torchbearer of Unity and Service

(Kashmir Rechords Desk)

Late Shri Prem Nath Bhat, the first journalist martyred during the Kashmir turmoil, has become an enduring symbol of resistance against religious fundamentalism and the ethnic cleansing of vulnerable minorities, particularly the Kashmiri Pandit community. In both life and death, he exemplified a remarkable commitment to unity and service to humanity, transcending religious, political and ideological boundaries. A true awakened soul, Shri Prem Nath Bhat combined exceptional leadership qualities with an unwavering dedication to his homeland, choosing to remain in Kashmir despite the threats of terrorism that ultimately claimed his life.

His father, Pt. Lachman Bhat, deeply grieved by the tragic loss of his illustrious son, passed away on November 6, 1990, in Jammu, less than a year after Shri Prem Nath Bhat’s assassination.

The Black Day

December 27, 1989, marks a dark chapter in India’s history, as this great son of Kashmir was gunned down, symbolizing a direct assault on India’s ethos and the centuries-old value system of Kashmir. Known for its harmonious and inclusive culture, the Kashmir of Shri Prem Nath Bhat’s time was tragically torn apart by violence and hatred.

He was the third prominent Kashmiri Pandit to fall victim to terrorism during that turbulent period, following the assassinations of Tika Lal Taploo in September 1989 and Neelkanth Ganjoo in November 1989. Shri Prem Nath Bhat was targeted for his fearless advocacy on behalf of the Kashmiri Pandit community. His efforts extended across India as he championed the cause of his people, built institutions, safeguarded temples and properties and worked tirelessly to alleviate the fear psychosis gripping the community following the 1986 Anantnag riots.

Despite the peak of anti-national activities in 1989-1990, and even against the advice of well-meaning Muslim friends urging him to leave the valley, Shri Prem Nath Bhat chose to remain steadfast in Kashmir, epitomizing unparalleled courage.

A Multifaceted Personality

In addition to being an accomplished advocate, Shri Prem Nath Bhat was a distinguished journalist with a profound understanding of the socio-political issues and shifting dynamics of Kashmir. He served as a correspondent for Daily Excelsior from Anantnag and contributed incisive articles for the newspaper’s Op-Ed pages and weekly magazine. Deeply influenced by the teachings of Shri Ramakrishna Paramhansa and Swami Vivekananda, his life was guided by their ideals of selfless service and social reform.

Early Life and Legacy

Born in 1932 into a middle-class family, Pandit Prem Nath Bhat, affectionately known as “Bhat Sahab,” completed his education at Amar Singh College and S.P. College in Srinagar. A gifted debater and dedicated social worker, he was actively involved in community welfare from a young age. To honor his memory and the sacrifices of other martyrs, the Kashmiri Pandit community observes December 27 as Chetna Divas annually. The Prem Nath Bhat Memorial Trust continues to lead efforts for the passage of the Temples and Shrine Bill while also acknowledging the contributions of journalists through an annual award in Shri Prem Nath Bhat’s name.

To read another story about P N Bhat, Click Here:

Dr J. N. Bhan: The Mind That Built Jammu University

(Kashmir Rechords Exclusive)

In an age when institutions were shaped not by committees but by conviction, Dr J N Bhan stood tall as a rare, multi-dimensional intellectual. Today’s generation of teachers and students may scarcely know his name, yet for those who witnessed his era, he was the very definition of an ideal academic: a revered teacher, a profound economist, a visionary administrator and a principled public intellectual.

He was the first Vice-Chancellor of the University of Jammu, appointed in 1969, and one of the principal architects of higher education in the region. His life’s journey—from pre-Partition Kashmir classrooms to London’s academic corridors, and finally to institution-building in Jammu—reads like a quiet epic of dedication.

Roots in Kashmir, Values for Life

Born in 1915 into a conservative Kashmiri Pandit family, Dr Bhan was raised in the traditions, discipline and cultural ethos of the time. His early education at SP High School Srinagar laid a strong foundation, after which he joined SP College Srinagar, graduating in 1936.

Even as a student, he was far from cloistered in books alone. He actively participated in the anti-communalism movement led by Kashyap Bandhu, reflecting an early moral clarity that would define his life. This engagement also brought him close to thinkers such as Prem Nath Bazaz, placing him firmly within the progressive intellectual currents of pre-Partition Kashmir.

The Making of a Scholar

Dr Bhan pursued his post-graduation in Economics in Delhi, earning distinction and later expanded his academic breadth with postgraduate degrees in History and Political Science—a rare interdisciplinary depth for his time.

Returning to Kashmir, he joined SP College Srinagar as a Lecturer in Economics and History, serving from 1938 to 1946. His classroom reputation grew quickly: lucid, rigorous and inspiring; he was already being spoken of as a teacher who shaped minds, not merely syllabi.

London Years: Academia and Diplomacy

In 1946, Dr Bhan travelled to London to pursue his doctorate in Economics. These years proved formative in more ways than one. Alongside academic work, he served as Assistant Press Attaché to the Indian High Commission in the UK, gaining first-hand exposure to diplomacy and international affairs.

During this period, he came into close contact with P. N. Haksar and Khushwant Singh, relationships that broadened his intellectual horizons and deepened his understanding of India’s place in the world.

Return to J&K: Scholar-Administrator Emerges

In 1951, Dr Bhan was recalled by the government led by Sheikh Mohammad Abdullah and appointed Professor and Head, Department of Economics at GGM Science College Jammu.

A brief but telling episode followed in 1953, when he was asked to succeed J. N. Zutshi as Director General of Information and Broadcasting. Disillusioned by internal squabbles, Dr Bhan chose principle over position, returning to academia by joining the Education Department as Secretary—a decision that revealed his deep aversion to politicised dysfunction.

A University Builder, Not Just a Vice-Chancellor

In September 1957, Dr Bhan joined the University of Jammu & Kashmir as Professor and Head, Department of Economics. His administrative acumen soon became evident, as  in 1963, he was appointed Pro-Vice-Chancellor and in 1969, became the first Vice-Chancellor of the newly established University of Jammu.

He famously described the creation of the University as the “fulfilment of a genuine demand of the people of Jammu.” To him, it was not merely an institution—but a promise to future generations.

Dr Bhan’s love for the University of Jammu was profound and personal. He nurtured it in its infancy—laying academic standards, shaping departments, and fostering a culture of integrity and scholarship.

Beyond administration, he remained a hands-on academic. University archives and PhD bibliographies record him as a research supervisor, underscoring his commitment to mentoring young scholars and strengthening research-led teaching in Jammu & Kashmir.

A brilliant orator, a measured thinker and a man of unwavering values, Dr Bhan commanded respect without demanding it. Students admired his clarity, colleagues trusted his judgment and the academic community recognised his quiet authority.

After retirement, he continued public service as a member of the State Planning Board, bringing economic insight to policy formulation.

The Day Jammu Stood Still

On May 31, 1990, Dr J. N. Bhan passed away at his Gandhi Nagar residence in Jammu, following a massive heart attack. He was 75 and had been in fragile health for several months.

Such was the esteem in which he was held that the University of Jammu closed for the day—a rare institutional tribute—honouring the man who had built it brick by brick, principle by principle.

Dr Bhan’s legacy did not fade with time. In September 2012, the University of Jammu instituted the Prof. J. N. Bhan Memorial Lecture Series in Economics—a formal recognition of his foundational role in shaping economic thought and higher education in the region.

Dr J. N. Bhan’s life stands as a reminder that universities are not merely built by funds or files, but by vision, scholarship, and character. He remains remembered as a nation-builder in the classroom, a statesman in administration, a mentor to generations and a man who served without noise, ambition or compromise.

In nurturing the University of Jammu in its earliest days, Dr Bhan ensured that his own life would become inseparable from the institution’s history—a legacy that continues to inspire, quietly yet enduringly.

Digital Silence: How J&K’s Migrant Property Portal Fails Kashmiri Pandits

(Kashmir Rechords Desk)

In Jammu and Kashmir, official websites seem to be no longer instruments of governance. They are props. Launched with ceremony, left to rot without accountability, they exist to create an illusion of care while delivering administrative indifference. For displaced Kashmiri Pandits—people already stripped of homes, dignity and decades of security—this digital apathy is not a minor inconvenience. It is cruelty by design.

When governments speak of Digital Governance and citizen services, citizens expect access, transparency and resolution. What they receive instead, in Jammu and Kashmir, is something far more disturbing: digital deceit masquerading as reform.

A Portal Meant to Heal, Turned into a Weapon of Neglect

The Kashmir Migrants Immovable Properties/Community Assets Related Grievance Redressal System, launched under the Department of Disaster Management, Relief, Rehabilitation and Reconstruction (DMRRR), was projected as a lifeline for displaced Kashmiri Pandits—a long-awaited mechanism to reclaim properties lost to violence, encroachment and abandonment.

Today, that portal stands exposed as a hollow shell.

Months after its launch, the system remains functionally dead. Complaints cannot be filed. Grievances cannot be submitted. And accountability remains nowhere in sight. What was advertised as empowerment has devolved into one of the most callous administrative failures in the Union Territory.

This failure is neither unknown nor undocumented.

On October 23, 2025, Kashmir Rechords published a detailed report (https://kashmir-rechords.com/digital-betrayal-how-jk-governments-grievance-portal-cheats-kashmiri-pandits/) exposing the portal’s dysfunction, tagging the Lieutenant Governor’s administration and even the Raj Bhavan. The response from the authorities has been chillingly predictable: absolute silence.

In a democracy, silence in the face of documented suffering is not neutrality. It is complicity.

The Cruelty of an Unsent OTP

The real story begins where governance collapses—at the moment a displaced migrant tries to file a grievance.

The portal demands OTP verification on email before submission. Migrants comply, entering exhaustive personal details and property records—often tied to memories of homes they were forced to flee over three decades ago.

But the OTP never arrives.

The process stops mid-way. The complaint remains unsubmitted. Hours of emotional and administrative labour vanish into a digital void.

This is not a technical oversight. This is systemic indifference encoded into software.

As anguished netizens observed: “This is not a glitch. It is deliberate negligence—a mockery of an already battered community.”

Developed and hosted by the Jammu and Kashmir e-Governance Agency (JaKeGA), this portal functions less as a grievance redressal system and more as a bureaucratic dead end. It absorbs hope, records nothing, and resolves even less.

For a government that repeatedly claims commitment to the rehabilitation of Kashmiri Pandits, this portal exposes a disturbing truth: the rhetoric is alive, but the responsibility is dead.

A Helpline That Cannot Be Called

If the broken OTP is insult enough, the so-called helpline seals the deception.

The prominently displayed number—0191-2956285—is invalid. Non-functional. Repeated calls return a robotic verdict: This number is invalid. Truecaller vaguely identifies it as a “Kashmir Helpline Jammu Property,” a label that mocks the very idea of assistance.

A dead helpline is not an error. It is a confession.

The portal assures applicants that “the concerned District Magistrate will contact the applicant.” In reality, not a single migrant reports receiving a call, an email, or even an acknowledgment.

Responses to Kashmir Rechords’ October 23 exposé tell a uniform story: no response, no communication, no redress—despite public tagging of the highest constitutional offices in the UT.

A grievance portal that prevents grievances from being filed is not governance—it is state-sponsored silence. It offers visibility without voice, access without outcome, and promises without presence.

This is not merely a broken website.
It is a broken promise.
And for a community still waiting to return home, it is yet another reminder that exile has now been digitised.

When Mufti Sayeed Ordered a Ban on  Kashmiri Pandit Exodus in April 1990!

(Kashmir Rechords Exclusive)

It may sound startling now, but history records a moment when the Union Government formally ordered that the migration of Kashmiri Pandits from the Valley be stopped. Even more strikingly, those who had already fled were expected to return to Kashmir—not to resettle elsewhere, but to live inside protected camps within the Valley itself.

This extraordinary directive came on April 29, 1990, announced by none other than Mufti Mohammad Sayeed, then India’s Union Home Minister, barely a few months after the community’s mass displacement had shaken the Nation.

During his two-day visit to Jammu, Mufti Mohammad Sayeed  had instructed the then Jammu and Kashmir administration to prevent any further migration of Kashmiri Pandits with immediate effect. The directive was unambiguous: the exodus from Kashmir had to stop.

Addressing a press conference before returning to Delhi, Mufti  had made it clear that the Centre did not favour relocating Pandits to Jammu or elsewhere outside the Valley. Instead, he directed the government to establish secure, well-protected camps within Kashmir for vulnerable members of the community.

“There is no point in permitting them to migrate to Jammu,” the Home Minister said during the press conference, pointing to the lack of adequate facilities there—particularly in the harsh summer months.

Newspaper Report dated April 29, 1990, quoting Home Minister Mufti Mohd Sayeed on migration of Kashmiri Pandits

Kashmir Rechords, by reproducing the newspaper clipping of April 30, 1990, seeks to preserve this largely forgotten record—not to reopen old wounds, but to document a critical truth: that the Kashmiri Pandit exodus was never officially intended to be permanent, and that at a crucial moment, the Indian State attempted—however imperfectly—to halt it.

Pandits as ‘Soft Targets’—Yet Asked to Stay

Mufti  had acknowledged what many already feared: Kashmiri Pandits had become “soft targets” for militant groups, amid a sharp rise in targeted killings. Yet, rather than allowing people to flee, his solution was containment and protection within the Valley.

The idea was like this:
Pandits would be settled in protected zones, guarded by security forces, rather than dispersed outside their homeland.

Newspapers of the time prominently quoted the Home Minister lamenting that Pandits lodged in camps in Jammu were living without even basic essentials—“without cots and necessities”—arguing that migration to places unprepared to support them only worsened their suffering. Yet a section of Pandit leadership of that time opposed and assailed Mufti for his order to ban exodus of Pandits from Kashmir.

Jagmohan’s Earlier Appeal—and the Community’s Rejection

Mufti’s proposal was not entirely new. Just weeks earlier, on March 7, 1990, then Governor Jagmohan had  too publicly floated a similar idea. He had appealed to Kashmiri Pandits not to leave the Valley and urged those who had already fled to return, assuring them full protection in camps to be set up at district headquarters.

That proposal, too, met with strong resistance from the displaced community, which viewed the idea of protected camps inside a hostile environment with deep suspicion and fear. Security concerns, coupled with the trauma of recent killings, led many Pandit leaders to outright reject the plan. Jagmohan’s appeal, however, had  came at a time when the community was deeply traumatised. Targeted killings, intimidation and nightly slogans had shattered trust. For many Pandits, the idea of returning to live in camps inside the Valley—however protected on paper—appeared unsafe and psychologically untenable.

Why the Plan Never Took Off?

What emerges from these two interventions—Jagmohan’s appeal in March and Mufti Sayeed’s directive in April—is a rare moment of policy convergence. For a brief period in 1990, Raj Bhavan and the Union Home Ministry were aligned in their assessment that the displacement of Kashmiri Pandits was not meant to become permanent. Both believed the situation could be stabilised, camps secured, and the community retained—or brought back—within the Valley.

That moment, however, proved fleeting.

The proposals never moved beyond intent. Security conditions continued to deteriorate, fear deepened and opposition from within the displaced community hardened. In May 1990, Governor Jagmohan was replaced, bringing an abrupt end to his initiative. By November 10, 1990, Mufti Mohammad Sayeed ceased to be Home Minister. With the departure of both principal actors, the policy lost institutional backing and quietly faded from public discourse.

What was once imagined as a short-term dislocation, possibly resolved by the summer of 1990, has now stretched into over 36 years of displacement. The subject of sending migrants back by 1990, remains one of the most under-reported and least discussed episodes of the Kashmiri Pandit tragedy—raising uncomfortable questions about policy, preparedness and the chasm between intention and outcome.

History often remembers outcomes. It rarely remembers intentions that failed.

This is one such intention—recorded in ink, buried in archives and largely erased from public memory.

When Indira Gandhi announced liberation of Bangladesh!

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(Kashmir Rechords Exclusive)

It was on December 16, 1971… The Parliament was in session… Around 5.30 pm, Prime Minister Mrs Indira Gandhi, while walking briskly to the packed House, had announced amidst thunderous cheers in the Parliament the unconditional surrender of the West Pakistani occupation forces and the liberation of Bangladesh.

The House had gone into delirious joy and cheered almost every word and sentence of the Prime Minister’s announcement. ‘Dacca is now the Capital of a free Country…..The West Pakistani forces have unconditionally surrendered….’’, Mrs Gandhi had made the historic announcement.

A PTI news, carried by various newspapers across India, including in  Jammu and Kashmir, had quoted the Prime Minister announcing that the “Instrument of Surrender was signed at 1631 hours by Lt. Gen A. A. K Niazi on behalf of the Pakistan Eastern Command. Lieutenant General Jagjit Singh Arora, Commander of the Indian and Bangladesh Forces in the Eastern Sector accepted the surrender’’.

Prime Minister Indira Gandhi’s speech in the Parliament on the liberation of Dhaka

In her brief speech, the Prime Minister had hailed the people of Bangladesh in their hour of triumph. “We hail the brave young men and boys of the Mukti Bahini. ‘We are proud of our Army, Navy and Air Force (cheers) and our Border Security Forces (cheers) who have magnificently demonstrated their quality and capacity’’, Mrs Gandhi said.

Significance of Vijay Diwas

It is in the backdrop of this historical reality that every year on December 16,  India marks the Day as `Vijay Diwas’, a solemn occasion that signifies India’s triumph over Pakistan in the 1971 war, which eventually led to the birth of Bangladesh. This day serves as a reminder of the sacrifices made and the courage displayed by the soldiers who played a pivotal role in this historic event. It also debunked the two-nation theory propounded by Ali Mohd Jinnah.

The India-Pakistan 13-Day war over the then East Pakistan had started on December 3, 1971, and culminated in the surrender of Pakistan’s Eastern Command to the joint forces of India and Bangladesh. This decisive moment resulted in the liberation of East Pakistan, now known as Bangladesh, establishing it as an independent Nation.

Signing of Instrument of Surrender.

The Indian Military, under the leadership of General Sam Manekshaw, had played a commendable role in providing strategic direction, ensuring victory alongside the Mukti Bahini—Bangladeshi freedom fighters.

Lt Gen J S Arora inspecting a division of Pakistani soldiers who had surrendered at Dhaka on Dec 16, 1971

Death for the idea of Pakistan

It was a death blow for Pakistan on December 16, 1971. Born in hatred and blood, on August 14, 1947, the idea died in the same hatred and blood. Its two wings, separated by more than 1600 kilometers and kept together only by the tenuous ties of religion, were cut. Along with it the two Nation theory propounded by Mohammad Ali Jinnah got exploded, proving within one generation, that religion cannot form the sole or even the predominant basis of Nationhood.

Zarb-e-Momin and the Kashmir Mirage!

(Kashmir Rechords Report)

It was December 1989 when Pakistan launched its biggest-ever military exercise, Zarb-e-Momin, creating an imaginary war-like situation under a carefully crafted plan that pitted two fictional countries against each other: Fox Land, representing India and Blue Land, representing Pakistan. The exercise was no innocent drill; it was designed with a calculated and rather sinister purpose—to portray India before the world as the “aggressor,” and to send a powerful psychological signal to Kashmiri militants that Pakistan was fully behind them, ready to take on India and assured of victory regardless of India’s strength.

Zarb-e-Momin did not arise in isolation. It was, in fact, the psychological follow-up to an earlier covert strategy: Operation Topac, conceived in the late 1980s under General Zia-ul-Haq. Operation Topac formed the backbone of Pakistan’s proxy-war blueprint in Kashmir. Its hidden strategy was straightforward but devastating: ignite separatist sentiment, arm and train Kashmiri youth and foreign fighters and internationalise the Kashmir issue by projecting the unrest as a spontaneous people’s uprising rather than a Pakistan-backed intervention.

As this covert programme expanded, Kashmir further slipped rapidly into full-scale insurgency around 1988–89. Groups such as the `JKLF’ and later more hardline Islamist organisations, took up arms. Pakistan’s training camps, infiltration routes, weapons supply and sanctuary across the Line of Control transformed local anger into a structured militant movement. The proxy war had stepped out of the shadows and onto the streets of the Valley.

It was precisely at this moment of peak volatility that Pakistan unveiled Zarb-e-Momin. Officially, it was a military simulation to test Pakistan Army’s “offensive defence” doctrine and its integration with the Air Force. But to militants in the Valley, and to many ordinary Kashmiris, the exercise conveyed something far more potent: the impression that Pakistan was preparing not just to support them covertly but to stand behind them with tanks, fighter jets and massive troop strength.

The Pakistani press of the time went out of its way to reinforce this illusion. On December 10, 1989, newspapers dramatically reported that Pakistan’s “full-scale war exercise” had entered its crucial phase. They described how, at dawn, “Fox Land” (clearly India) had launched an “offensive” in the Chor, Rahim Yar Khan and Bahawalpur sectors to seize strategic territory from “Blue Land” (Pakistan). According to these reports, Fox Land had deployed sizeable infantry formations supported by armoured units. Blue Land was shown as retaliating with force and brilliance, outsmarting the aggressor and demonstrating superior military capability.

This psychological theatre was not restricted to newspapers. Pakistan Television carried continuous “war briefings” featuring the Foreign Minister Sahabzada Yaqub Khan, the Minister of State for Defence, Ghulam Sarwar Cheema, the Chairman of the joint chiefs of staff, and the Army, Navy and Air Force chiefs. Two teams of journalists were despatched to “frontline positions” to file dramatic field reports. Representatives from over twenty countries were invited to witness what Pakistan presented as a realistic war scenario, carefully orchestrated to show India as the first attacker.

In Kashmir’s already charged environment, this spectacle had immense impact. Zarb-e-Momin became a psychological instrument—not merely a military rehearsal but a promise in disguise. Militants interpreted it as a sign that Pakistan’s regular army was preparing to intervene if the insurgency gained momentum. Many young Kashmiris genuinely believed that if they “held on,” Pakistan’s tanks and fighter jets, showcased on Pakistan’s national television, would one day cross the border to “liberate” them. For a generation entering militancy, it appeared that Pakistan’s State Power stood firmly behind them and that India, however strong, could ultimately be defeated.

With hindsight, that belief appears tragically misplaced. Pakistan never escalated beyond calibrated proxy warfare. No armoured columns rolled into Kashmir. No liberation offensive materialised. Zarb-e-Momin’s fiery display remained exactly that—a display. Yet the illusion it created was powerful enough to draw hundreds more into militancy, strengthening the spiral of conflict.

The psychological expectation that Pakistan cultivated—Operation Topac’s covert preparation reinforced by Zarb-e-Momin’s public theatrics—helped push Kashmir deeper into a prolonged and devastating vortex. The people of Jammu and Kashmir paid the heaviest price: decades of violence, displacement, grief, fractured communities and a lost generation.

In the end, many argue that Pakistan’s strategy amounted to selling a dream it never intended to fulfil—befooling the very population in whose name the proxy war was waged. The combination of covert promises and overt theatrics, beginning with Zarb-e-Momin in December 1989, shaped one of the darkest chapters in the region’s history.

When Justice Bhat Mediated for Rubaiya Sayeed’s Release

(Kashmir Rechords Archival Desk)

Thirty-six years have passed, yet the kidnapping of Dr. Rubaiya Sayeed—daughter of then Union Home Minister Mufti Mohammad Sayeed—continues to cast a long, mysterious shadow over Kashmir’s turbulent history. And with the CBI further probing the case recently, the events of those nerve-racking days in December 1989 feel more alive—and more confounding—than ever.

But what many from today’s generation don’t know, and what many from that era have almost forgotten, is the extraordinary—and unlikely—team of negotiators who risked everything to bring Rubaiya home.

This was a chapter where a High Court judge, a surgeon, a lawyer, and an MLA outmaneuvered fear, bureaucracy, and hardened militants to negotiate one of the most controversial prisoner exchanges in India’s history.

Thanks to an archival newspaper cutting unearthed by Kashmir Rechords : http://www.kashmir-rechords.com—a detailed byline story by the journalist Zafar Meraj, published in Kashmir Times on December 15, 1989—we finally revisit the tense back-channel dealings that shaped this saga.

A Judge Steps Into the Shadows

When Rubaiya was abducted on December 10, 1989, Kashmir was already a pressure cooker. Militancy was rising, politics was volatile and official responses were scattered.Into this chaos stepped a man few would have expected:

Justice Moti Lal Bhat, a Kashmiri Pandit and a sitting judge of the Allahabad High Court—transferred from the J&K High Court barely a month earlier.

He had flown to Srinagar on vacation. He was scheduled to leave for Delhi the morning after the kidnapping. But upon hearing the news, he cancelled his plans. As a close friend of Mufti Mohammad Sayeed, he felt compelled to act—and he did so immediately, quietly, and without official sanction.His decision would alter the course of the crisis.

The Unlikely Quartet of Negotiators

According to Zafar Meraj’s report, Justice Bhat did not operate alone. He assembled a team of intermediaries who were trusted—strangely enough—by both the establishment and the underground:

Dr. Abdul Ahad Guru, the celebrated cardiac surgeon who happened to be treating militant leader Abdul Hamid Sheikh.

Mian Abdul Qayoom, prominent lawyer and later Bar president.

Mir Mustafa, MLA and influential political figure.

Together, they made a quartet unlike anything seen before or after in Kashmir’s conflict narrative. And in a cruel twist of fate—both Dr. Guru and Mir Mustafa were later assassinated by militants belonging to the same organisation whose cadres they helped secure freedom for.

Contact Established—And the Clock Begins

Zafar Meraj’s report reveals that Justice Bhat managed to establish contact with the captors on the sixth day, after painstaking efforts at building trust.

The militants’ demand was clear and uncompromising: Release five jailed JKLF militants, including Abdul Hamid Sheikh. Only then, and only after a 48-hour “cooling period,” would Rubaiya be freed.

The cooling period, they said, was needed to safely move the militants to hidden locations. The government initially resisted—suggesting a one-for-one formula, then demanding simultaneous exchange. The militants rejected both. Tension escalated.

Justice Bhat negotiated relentlessly and managed to bring down the cooling-off period to three hours, giving his personal assurance that the freed militants would not be re-arrested or shadowed.

But when everything seemed to be aligning, the state government hardened its stance.

Talks Collapse. A Final Warning. Delhi Steps In.

On Sunday night, the militants issued a chilling message: Accept all demands, or Rubaiya will be killed. Justice Bhat, disappointed and angry at the government’s vacillation, told officials bluntly that the responsibility would lie with them.

With the crisis slipping out of control, the Centre intervened decisively.

Union Ministers I.K. Gujral and Arif Mohammad Khan flew to Srinagar at daybreak and held a closed-door meeting with Chief Minister Farooq Abdullah—and the tone was unmistakably stern.

The message: Resolve it. Now. Or Delhi will take charge.

Only after this intervention did the state government return to the negotiators, agreeing fully to the militants’ terms—including the three-hour gap.

The Exchange: A Choreographed Twilight Deal

The final act unfolded with cinematic tension.The five militants—including Abdul Hamid Sheikh—were quietly driven to Rajouri Kadal, near the ancestral home of Moulvi Farooq. They disappeared into the maze-like inner city on auto-rickshaws. Simultaneously, Rubaiya was moved from one hideout to another in the densely populated neighbourhoods of downtown Srinagar.

At around 6 PM, she was handed over to two intermediaries. An hour later, they reached Justice Bhat’s Sonwar residence. At 7:30 PM, a relieved and emotional Justice Bhat personally escorted Rubaiya to her home in Nowgam.

The Reunion: A Moment That Melted the Valley.

Witnesses recall the scene as unforgettable: Rubaiya’s mother—who had displayed remarkable composure for five days—collapsed into tears the moment she embraced her daughter.

Within an hour, the family boarded a waiting BSF aircraft for Delhi.

During captivity, militants had reportedly kept Rubaiya with women and treated her “like a sister”—a phrase they had publicly declared earlier. She appeared unharmed but visibly shaken.

At Justice Bhat’s home, she lost her composure briefly upon seeing senior bureaucrats, refusing to enter in protest—before being persuaded gently by Justice Bhat and his doctor-daughter.

A Story That Refuses to Fade

Today, as investigators reopen the case and new details emerge, the forgotten role of Justice Moti Lal Bhat and his team regains its rightful place in the narrative.

Their courage, their mediation, their risks—all played out in an era where the Valley was teetering on the edge.

And as Kashmir Rechords revisits Zafar Meraj’s original reporting, we are reminded that history is never linear. It is layered, fragile and often shaped by individuals working out of the spotlight.

The Rubaiya Sayeed kidnapping was not just an incident. It was a turning point.

And the negotiators—some later killed, some forgotten—carried the burden of that moment with extraordinary courage.

When Hari Singh Sailed to Europe and J&K Ran on a 12-Page Order

(Kashmir Rechords Exclusive)

Maharaja Hari Singh’s 1928 tour of Europe remains one of the most organised temporary transfers of power in Jammu and Kashmir’s princely history. Before leaving Jammu on May 14, 1928, the Maharaja issued a detailed 21 point  12-page administrative order, laying out how the State was to function during his absence. The document—part directive, part governance manual—revealed his meticulous approach to continuity and control.

At the core of his plan was a four-member Cabinet, entrusted with the Civil, Military, and Private domain administration. The team included Sir Albion Banerji (Rajmantradhurina), Maj. Gen. Rai Bahadur Janak Singh, G.E.C. Wakefield  and Khan Bahadur Sheikh Abdul Qauoom. They were instructed not to remain absent under any circumstances, and were empowered to run the State without altering existing policies.

This archival order, assessed by Kashmir Rechords, reveals that a layered backup system ensured stability. In Maj. Gen. Janak Singh’s absence, Col. Anderson, Chief of Military Staff, was to be co-opted. Rai Bahadur Rishibar Mukerji, Director of Private Domain and Captain M.W. Reed, handling both personal and military secretary duties, could be added to the Cabinet when required.

The Maharaja’s directions were strict:

* No changes to the Constitution.

* No modification or reversal of existing orders.

* All major financial decisions and matters involving the British Government or other States were to be held over.

The Cabinet was required to meet twice a week—Monday and Thursday—at Gulabi Ghar in Jammu and at the Council Chamber in Srinagar. All correspondence from Europe was to be routed through American Express Company, Haymarket, London.

Supporting this entire administrative mechanism was P.K. Watal, the Minister-in-Waiting, who served as Secretary to the Cabinet and ensured precise coordination across departments.

While historians debate whether the Maharaja’s European trip was prompted by health, personal engagement, or political consultations, what stands out is the administrative clarity with which he left. His detailed order ensured that governance continued without disruption, and the State remained stable in the hands of his most trusted deputies.

Maharaja Hari Singh’s 1928 tour thus became not just a royal visit abroad, but a lesson in structured delegation—an early example of how a ruler prepared his State to run smoothly even in his absence.

Shocking! Vivekananda was denied land in Kashmir

(Kashmir Rechords News Desk)

Very few people must be knowing that  Swami Vivekananda, one of the most popular monks and spiritual leaders of India was denied  a piece of land  for establishing  a Monastery and a Sanskrit College in Kashmir!

Looks unbelievable, but this  shocking incident dates back to Swami Vivekananda’s second  visit to Kashmir in 1898 when Maharaja Pratap Singh, who treated him with utmost respect, during the course of discussions, wanted him to choose a tract of land for establishing a Monastery in Kashmir in order to give young people training in non-dualism.

  Despite the selection of the land and the submission of the proposal to the British Resident for approval, the same was denied as the British Agent had refused to grant land for establishing a Monastery and a Sanskrit College in Kashmir for unknown reasons.  When the same was communicated to Swami Vivekananda, he had accepted the whole thing philosophically.

British Residency was established on  September 25,  1885 during the rule of Maharaja Pratap Singh. Sir Oliver St. John was appointed the first British Resident in Jammu and Kashmir.

Vivekananda :A Biography

There is the mention of this  shocking incident in a Book “Vivekananda :A Biography’’, written by Swami Nikhilananda at page number 271. According to the Book, published by Advaita Ashrama, Calcutta in January 1953, Swami Vivekananda during his stay in Kashmir (August 8 to September 30, 1898), had felt an intense desire for meditation and solitude. Upon the insistence of Maharaja of Kashmir, the land was identified but   a month later, following the refusal to grant the same, Swami’s devotion was later directed to Kali, the divine Mother.

Apart from this incident, the biographer also elaborately discusses Swami’s visit to many parts of Kashmir, including Kheer Bhawani Tulmulla, visit to Amarnath Cave, stay in Srinagar and his meetings with different sections of society there.     

It was first time on 10 September 1897, when this great saint visited Srinagar for a short duration. The Swami had left Srinagar for Baramulla and reached Murree on October 8 and from there to Rawalpindi on October 16, 1897.

Swami Vivekananda in the company of his disciples and Kashmiri Pandits

 The second visit of Swami Vivekananda to Kashmir (June to October, 1898) was more eventful. This time a party of Europeans was accompanying him. Prominent among them was Sister Nivedita. During this period,  he visited many places of religious and historical importance like Shankaracharya Hill, Hari Parbat, Martand, Panderthan, temples of Avantipora, Bijbehara, Mughul Gardens of Nishat and Shalimar, besides  shrines of Shri Amarnath Ji Cave and Mata Kheer Bhawani in Tulmulla. The period from June 22 to July 15, 1898 was spent by Vivekananda and his western disciples in houseboats (dungas) on the Jhelum, in and around Srinagar.

The party had left Kashmir on October 11, 1898 and came down to Lahore. Swami Ji reached Belur Math on October 18, 1898.

(Swami Vivekananda’s 1898 Kashmir Visit. Left to Right: Jesophine McLeod, Mrs Ole Bull, Vivekananda and Sister Nivedita)

About the Biographer

Swami Nikhilananda (1895–1973), the author of `Vivekanda: The Biography” was  born as  Dinesh Chandra Das Gupta. He  was a direct disciple of Sri Sarada Devi. In 1933, he founded the Ramakrishna-Vivekananda Centre of New York, a branch of Ramakrishna Mission, and remained its head until his death in 1973. An accomplished writer and thinker, Nikhilananda’s greatest contribution was the translation of Sri Sri Ramakrishna Kathamrita from Bengali into English, published under the title `The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna’ (1942)

When NC Lauded JKLF and Sought to Reignite the Plebiscite Front

A stunning political U-turn buried in old newspaper archives reveals how the National Conference almost abandoned mainstream politics at the peak of militancy.
(Kashmir Rechords Archival Desk)

Kashmir, February 1990.
Streets under siege. Militants dictating the day. Government authority collapsing. And as the Valley burned, an earthquake quietly rocked mainstream politics—one so dramatic that most contemporary observers either forgot it or never knew it happened!

Newspaper reports dated February 21, 1990, accessed by Kashmir Rechords, expose a sensational political moment: The National Conference (NC) dissolved its entire Kashmir unit and openly backed militants of the Jammu & Kashmir Liberation Front (JKLF)—even calling them Mujahideen.

Even more explosive:
NC leaders proposed reviving the Plebiscite Front, the same separatist platform that had once challenged India’s sovereignty over Kashmir.

This happened barely 15 years after the Plebiscite Front had been merged back into the NC following the 1975 Indira–Sheikh Accord. And yet, in the chaos of 1990, history seemed ready to reverse itself.

The Day NC Hit Reset: February 21, 1990

In a press statement in Srinagar, Abdul Salam Deva, a senior NC leader and former minister, dropped the bombshell:

“There is no alternative but to respect the genuine aspirations of the people.”

Within minutes, NC’s Kashmir provincial unit, youth wing and local committees stood dissolved.
In their place: Mahaz-e-Rai Shumari — the Plebiscite Front’s original name.

Deva declared the party’s intent to:

  • Work jointly with JKLF militants,
  • Follow their calls, and
  • Support their “freedom movement.”

The announcement read like a complete ideological surrender to the militant wave sweeping the Valley.

A Throwback to the Sheikh Era

To understand the gravity of this political U-turn, one must revisit the past.

What Was the Plebiscite Front?

  • Formed in 1955 by loyalists of Sheikh Abdullah after his arrest in 1953.
  • Led by Mirza Afzal Beg.
  • Demanded a UN-supervised plebiscite to decide whether J&K would accede to India or Pakistan.
  • Dominated Valley politics until 1975.
  • Dissolved after the Indira–Sheikh Accord when Sheikh Abdullah returned as Chief Minister.

To announce its revival in 1990—a year of unprecedented militancy—was nothing short of political defection from constitutional politics.

“Follow the Mujahideen” — NC’s Stunning Directive

Perhaps the most shocking line reported from the February 21 meeting was this:

NC workers were asked to unite with JKLF activists (called ‘Mujahideen’) and follow their directions.

This wasn’t political ambivalence; it was political surrender.

At a time when militancy was peaking, the ruling party’s cadre was being instructed to align with those who had taken up arms.

Warnings to Farooq Abdullah

The meeting also issued an extraordinary warning to former Chief Minister Farooq Abdullah:

Do not ignore the “sentiments and aspirations of the people”…
…and do not fall prey to “vested interests,” as Sheikh Abdullah once did.

It was an open rebuke to the party’s national president—rare in any political setup, unprecedented in NC’s history.

Delhi Blamed, Militants Praised

The statement went further:

  • Accused New Delhi of adopting a colonial attitude,
  • Claimed the Centre had always trampled human and democratic rights,
  • And extended full support to the JKLF-led separatist movement.

The militants were praised for:

maintaining communal harmony — a tradition “Kashmir has shown to the world.”

That such assertions came from NC’s provincial leadership in 1990 is politically explosive even today.

Five Days Later: The Dramatic Resignation

If the February 21, 1990 declaration was dramatic, what followed was Shakespearean.

On February 26, 1990, just five days after call for reviving the Plebiscite Front and praising militants, Abdul Salam Deva suddenly resigned:

  • Quit the National Conference,
  • Gave up politics altogether,
  • And proclaimed he had “no affiliation whatsoever with any political party.”

It was a stunning exit at a time when the Valley’s politics were entering a dark tunnel.

In his resignation note, Deva traced his political journey:

  • Muslim Conference: 1946–1955
  • Plebiscite Front: 1955–1975
  • National Conference: 1975–1989

His departure symbolised the disintegration of mainstream politics under the shadow of the gun.

The Forgotten Story That Changes How We Remember 1990

When the NC returned to power later, and even today in the Union Territory era, hardly anyone recalls that for a brief yet extraordinary moment in 1990:

  • The party dissolved itself in Kashmir,
  • Tried to resurrect the Plebiscite Front,
  • Praised militants publicly,
  • And formally aligned with the JKLF’s separatist movement.

It was a moment when the mainstream blinked.

A moment when fear, chaos and political opportunism collided.

A moment now resurfacing—thanks to old newspaper archives—as one of the most sensational and politically explosive chapters of Kashmir’s modern history.

Kashmir 1990 : When Terrorists Hunted IB Officers!

(Kashmir Rechords Exclusive)

On the freezing morning of January 15, 1990, a routine bus ride in Srinagar turned into a scene of horror that still haunts Kashmir’s conflict narrative. Moti Lal Bhan, an upright and quietly efficient Intelligence Bureau (IB) officer, boarded the Khanda-Nowgam-Srinagar shuttle bus unaware that this would be the last journey of his life.

At Natipora, three armed youth led by the dreaded Bitta Karate stormed the bus and ordered Bhan to get down. He protested. A fellow passenger, Mohammad Akbar Wani, alleged to be “ IB Informer’’, intervened, pleading with the gunmen to leave Bhan alone. The response was chilling—Wani was shot dead on the spot. Moments later, Bhan was shot point-blank in the head. No one in the bus dared move. No one came forward.

Instead, as chilling reports later suggested, some local photojournalists were alerted for a “photo-session” of the bodies .

Bhan’s “crime” was simple: he had helped apprehend Abdul Ahad Waza, a Pakistan-trained militant. For that, he was marked for death.

This is just one story—one among dozens.

1990: When IB Officers Stood Alone

The National Investigation Agency (NIA)—India’s federal counter-terror arm—was established only in December 2008, born from the ashes of the 26/11 Mumbai attacks. But in 1990, during the first wave of militancy, there was no such shield.

There was mostly the Intelligence Bureau (IB)—India’s century-old internal intelligence unit. And in Kashmir, they stood alone, exposed and hunted.

What happened in those early months of 1990 remains one of the most tragic and least-told chapters of India’s national security history.

Militant groups—backed, trained and guided from across the border—had chalked out a sinister plan: eliminate intelligence officers first.
And they succeeded. Worse, insiders allegedly leaked details of IB field officers to terror networks, sealing their fate.

Kashmir’s newspapers of that time prominently carried images  and stories of slain officers—an open tactic to terrorise minorities and cripple India’s national machinery in the Valley.

Here are some of the most heart-wrenching stories from those dark days.

A: January 2, 1990 — The First Blow: R.N.P. Singh

Just days into the new year, R.N.P. Singh, Assistant Central Intelligence Officer, was shot dead in Anantnag, Kashmir.
He had stepped out like any other day. He returned home only as a lifeless body. He was killed right on the footpath. Instead of rushing to help, locals celebrated.

This killing marked the opening act of what would become a systematic campaign. He was reportedly gunned down by “JKLF” militant Manzoor Darzi.

B: January 8, 1990 — The Beeru Execution: Krishan Gopal Chouhan

Beeru in Budgam was a militant stronghold, and Sub-Inspector Krishan Gopal Chouhan, running a lone IB operation there, had become a thorn in their side.

On a bustling street, a man in a Pheran stalked him.A Kalashnikov appeared. Five bullets ended his life.

Within hours, the terrorists struck again in Rawalpora, killing Inspector Hameedullah Bhat of the State’s counter-espionage unit. By then, several civilians too had been executed on mere suspicion of being “informers’’.

The message was clear: terror would rule.

C: February 14, 1990 — The Gowkadal Horror: Tej Krishen Razdan

Valentine’s Day 1990 became a day of mourning.

Tej Krishen Razdan, a technical officer posted at IB’s Gupkar Road unit, had visited home at Badyar to see his ailing parents. On his return, using public transport like any other Kashmiri, he was forced off a mini-bus at Gowkadal and shot dead by two young militants.

Then began a shameful spectacle. His blood-soaked body was dragged to Red Cross Chowk, put on public display. Onlookers did not flinch.
Even the shopkeepers did not move.

When a police jeep finally arrived, the driver pleaded with locals to help lift the body. Nobody stepped forward. The driver had to drag the martyr’s body alone.

E: The Eid Homecoming That Turned into Death: Rafiq Ahmed Wani

Rafiq Ahmed Wani, an IB security assistant serving in Assam, came home to Srinagar’s ShalaKadal to celebrate Eid.
Militants shot him dead in his own home.

A Fatal Mistake: The 1989 DG Conference

The killings of IB officers can also be traced to an ill-timed decision—a DG-level conference organised at Centaur Hotel, Srinagar, in mid-1989.

The high-profile event blew the cover of IB’s presence and network in the Valley.
Terror groups quickly mapped identities.Within months, IB officers became the first targets.

1990 vs. Today — A Different Battlefield

Much blood has flown since those grim months of 1990.
Today, the national security landscape has changed dramatically.

Agencies like NIA, SIA and strengthened state intelligence units operate with modern tools, legal backing and—most importantly—local support, something IB officers tragically lacked in 1990.

They fight terrorism with coordination, equipment and fearlessness that their predecessors could only dream of.

But the price paid by those early IB officers—the forgotten sentinels—must never be erased from memory.

When a Snake Spared Indira Gandhi!

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(Kashmir Rechords Archival Desk)

A 40-year-old newspaper clipping reveals an astonishing claim: an infant Indira Gandhi was once spared by a mysterious, multi-headed snake in Kashmir.

Yes—incredible, unbelievable, yet printed boldly on November 14, 1984, by Jammu & Kashmir’s leading English daily, Daily Excelsior.
A boxed news item on a prominent page carried the sensational testimony of an eyewitness who swore he saw it all unfold—in the presence of Jawaharlal Nehru, Kamla Nehru and their Kashmiri Pandit family priest.

At a time when the Nehru family often visited their ancestral homeland, Jawaharlal Nehru and Kamla Nehru travelled to the celebrated Achhabal Gardens in South Kashmir around 1918, carrying with them their new-born daughter — Indira Priyadarshini, only a few months old.

The infant was placed gently on a small wooden cot, covered lightly with a muslin cloth, as the young couple and their family priest walked a few steps away, admiring the Mughal-era terraced lawns.

What happened next defies belief — yet was printed as fact in the Daily Excelsior on November 14, 1984.

The Multi-Headed Serpent

According to the eyewitness, a multi-headed snake suddenly approached the sleeping child.
Kamla Nehru saw it first — and screamed.
Jawaharlal rushed forward, horrified.
But the priest remained calm.

He told them the serpent was a divine sign, insisting that neither panic nor force be used.
In an astonishing moment, the priest asked the Nehrus to prostrate before the snake.

And so they did — Jawaharlal Nehru, Kamla Nehru and the priest himself bowed to the serpent.

Without harming the child, the snake slowly slithered back into the grass, vanishing as mysteriously as it had appeared.

The Eyewitness Steps Forward

The dramatic tale was narrated decades later by Amarnath Sadhu, a 77-year-old Kashmiri Pandit whose contractor father had taken him to the gardens that very day.
Then a shy ten-year-old boy, Sadhu recalled watching the Nehru family from a distance — and witnessing the stunning scene unfold.

He told the newspaper, Daily Excelsior in 1984:

“Since that day, I consider Mrs Gandhi as Bharat Mata.”

Sadhu retired as an Accountant in the Education Department — but carried the memory of that incident all his life.

Why This Story Matters?

Despite extensive research by acclaimed authors like Pupul Jayakar and Katherine Frank, this serpent incident never entered the official narrative.
Not a single reference exists in the holdings of the Nehru Memorial Museum & Library, PM Museum, or other major archives.

Yet this 1984 newspaper account — now resurrected by Kashmir Rechords — suggests that the early life of India’s future Prime Minister may have held mysteries and near-mythical moments lost to time.

History remembers Indira Gandhi as the Iron Lady — but this resurfaced tale hints that destiny may have been watching over her from the very beginning, under a muslin cloth in a Kashmir garden.

From SKIMS to Red Fort: How Militancy Has Repeatedly Infiltrated Kashmir’s Medical Fraternity

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WHEN THE WHITE COAT TURNS GREY

(Kashmir Rechords Archival Desk)

The recent arrests of Kashmiri-origin doctors in the Red Fort blast conspiracy—stretching from Faridabad and Lucknow to Pathankot and Srinagar—have once again exposed a troubling undercurrent in Kashmir’s conflict narrative: the ease with which some medical professionals have drifted, been dragged, or been willingly drawn into the orbit of militancy.
Even militants themselves have often prefixed their nom de guerre with “Doctor”—not because they possessed a degree, but because the title carried credibility, trust and influence in Kashmiri society.

This pattern is not new. It has a trail more than three decades long, full of contradictions—doctors who healed the injured by day and ideologised insurgents by night; doctors who acted as mediators between the government and militants; doctors who protected militants, treated them secretly in hospital wards; and doctors who were themselves kidnapped, shot dead, or punished for defying militant diktats.

The 2025 case is only the latest reminder.

A History Written in Hospital Corridors

From the very beginning of militancy in 1989, medical institutions—particularly SKIMS, SMHS and Bone & Joint Hospital—became shadow theatres of insurgency. Militants sought treatment there covertly; sympathetic staff helped them; and those who resisted often paid with their lives.
The medical fraternity enjoyed unparalleled respect, which is precisely why militants found it useful to infiltrate or influence it.

No figure symbolises this complex overlap more sharply than Dr Abdul Ahad Guru, the famed cardiac surgeon who performed the first open-heart surgery at SKIMS. Revered professionally, he also became literary  “Dr Guru,” the ideological guide of the banned Jammu and Kashmir Liberation Front (JKLF).
This was not a title invented by militants—he was genuinely a doctor and a respected public intellectual who, in the first phase of the insurgency, enjoyed extraordinary influence.
He visited Saudi Arabia in 1991; he was detained multiple times under the Public Safety Act; he was released under public pressure.


But on 31 March 1993, he was abducted by  the very gunmen whom he supported. His body was found the next day, triggering valley-wide protests and a bandh openly announced by JKLF.
His killing remains one of the most politically charged assassinations of that early insurgent era, with JKLF giving a call for entire Kashmir shut-down, triggering panic, disrupting life and forcing authorities to clamp curfew.

That same period saw a series of doctor-related tragedies, many of them documented by Human Rights Watch, Amnesty International, and contemporary newspapers.

Doctors as Victims, Doctors as Suspects

Dr Farooq Ahmad Ashai, known for his criticism of  alleged human-rights violations, was shot dead on 18 February 1993. Human Rights Watch recorded that he was shot while travelling in a car marked with a red cross. Local rumours painted him as a militant sympathiser—illustrating how lives fell between official suspicion and militant coercion.

Sarla Bhat, a young nurse at SKIMS, was kidnapped from her hostel and murdered on 18 April 1990—one of the earliest militant actions aimed at intimidating Kashmiri Pandit medical staff and asserting control over the Institute, which at that time was crawling with militant activity.

Dr Rafiq Ahmad Veda, a senior doctor at SMHS Hospital, was arrested on 17 May 1990 for alleged links with  Pakistani handlers. His arrest provoked an unprecedented doctors’ strike that paralysed Srinagar’s healthcare system.

Dr Surinder Dhar, Head of Chest Diseases Hospital, was abducted on 31 March 1992 after he refused to treat an injured militant without notifying the police.

At the same time, militants began adopting “Doctor” as a battlefield alias because of the inherent weight the title carried. Saifullah Mir, widely known as “Doctor Saif”, though not medically trained, was one such Hizbul Mujahideen commander who supposedly tended to wounded militants.
For militants, the prefix wasn’t academic—it was psychological warfare.

The New Face of an Old Pattern: Red Fort Blast Case

The terror module busted in November 2025 shows that the doctor-militancy nexus has not vanished; it has merely transformed its methods—from covert medical help in hospitals to online radicalisation, inter-state movement, encrypted communication and operational roles.

Among those arrested or implicated in the Red Fort blast investigation:

Dr Shaheena Shahid, a medical practitioner with an academic background, accused of being a recruiter linked to Jaish-e-Mohammed’s women’s wing (allegations under investigation).
Dr Umar-un-Nabi, a Kashmiri doctor whom investigators suspect was connected to the explosive-laden Hyundai i20 that blew up near Red Fort on 10 November 2025.
Dr Adeel Majeed Rather and Dr Muzammil Shakeel, whose arrests widened the probe across multiple states.

The profession is again facing uncomfortable scrutiny—because the symbolism of a white coat offers both camouflage and credibility to militant networks.

Why Doctors? The Inconvenient Truth

Three threads have remained constant across the decades:

  1. Credibility: Doctors command trust. A radicalised or compromised doctor can move unnoticed across checkpoints, social circles and institutions.
  2. Access: Hospitals, especially during the 1990s, were safe spaces for militants seeking treatment, refuge or contact.
  3. Influence: A doctor’s word in Kashmiri society carries weight—making them ideal mediators, facilitators or ideological influencers.

It is this mix of access, respect and authority that made doctors valuable to militant groups then—and continues to do so now.

The White Coat, Once Again in Question

The re-emergence of doctors in terror-related investigations unsettles public faith, not just in the profession but in the fragile relationship between medicine and conflict in Kashmir.
From Dr Guru to the SKIMS kidnappings, from “Doctor Saif” to the Red Fort blast module, the story has been one of a profession repeatedly pulled into the grey zones of insurgency—sometimes willingly, sometimes under threat, and sometimes fatally.

The 2025 arrests are not an entirely new chapter—they are a continuation of a long, complicated, and deeply troubling story.
When the conflict reaches the corridors of medicine, a society loses not only healers—it loses its last refuge of neutrality.