The night of January 19, 1990, was one of the darkest in the history of India. In Srinagar, the atmosphere was charged with fear and chaos as Kashmiri Pandits faced a mass exodus from their homes and hearths. Rumor-mongering took centre stage, with mosques across the region suddenly switching on their loudspeakers to warn people against using tapped water, claiming it had been “poisoned” by the “administration” and “Indian agents,” including Kashmiri Pandits.
Eyewitness accounts recall a well-orchestrated plan behind these announcements, which plunged the city into chaos. Mass protests erupted, with people blaming “Indian agents” for “poisoning” the water supply. Despite power outages implemented by the authorities, mosque managers used battery backups to keep their loudspeakers operational, spreading fear and vilifying Kashmiri Pandits as collaborators. The message was clear: Pandits were warned to leave Kashmir forever, leaving behind their womenfolk.
Repeated announcements from Radio Kashmir Srinagar, attempting to calm the situation, were ignored. People trusted the mosque loudspeakers over official channels, and curfew enforcement in some areas failed to deter the masses from gathering on the streets. Driven by the fear instilled by the “poisoned water” rumors, residents emptied their water reserves. The sinister objective of these rumors was to incite curfew violations en masse and instill terror among Kashmiri Pandits, ultimately forcing their flight from the Valley.
Kashmir’s history is deeply intertwined with rumors, often romanticized as a cultural trait. From Kalhana’s Rajtarangini to the works of modern historians, accounts of “Kashmiri rumors” abound. While some rumors were harmless, others served as tools for manipulation and control by vested interests. Historian Khalid Bashir, in his book Kashmir: Looking Back in Time, highlights how Kashmiris have historically elevated individuals they admired to divine status while demonizing those they disliked.
Bashir also delves into the strategic use of rumors as political tools. Former Jammu and Kashmir Governor Jagmohan, in his book My Frozen Turbulence in Kashmir, describes how rumors were weaponized to defy and undermine his administration. He recounts the January 19, 1990, water-poisoning rumor and another in April 1990, which claimed that food packets distributed by the Army contained substances to cause frigidity in women and impotency in men—an alleged conspiracy to reduce the Muslim population. These fabrications sought to deepen mistrust between the administration and the populace.
Historically, missionaries and colonial officers have also documented Kashmir’s penchant for rumors. Rev. J. Hinton Knowles, Sir Walter Roper Lawrence in The Valley of Kashmir, and Tyndale Biscoe in Kashmir in Sunshine and Shade all describe how rumors shaped public behavior, often leading to panic. One infamous 19th-century incident involved a rumor about a monstrous creature in the Jhelum River, forcing Biscoe to make his students swim in the river to dispel the myth.
Rumors have often been wielded as weapons to serve political and personal agendas in Kashmir. A notable example dates back to the reign of Maharaja Partap Singh, when his brother Amar Singh spread false rumors to tarnish the Maharaja’s image and destabilize his rule. During Sheikh Mohammad Abdullah’s era, rumors about Chinar leaves bearing his name were circulated to evoke public fascination.
In the context of the 1990 exodus, many Kashmiri Pandits had already begun leaving the Valley before Jagmohan’s appointment as Governor. Yet, the rumor-mongering machinery successfully pinned the blame for their migration on him, perpetuating a narrative that continues to find resonance among many Kashmiris to this day.
Rumors have left an indelible mark on Kashmir’s socio-political landscape, sowing fear and confusion. Phrases like “Khabar Zaina Kadal”—referring to the spread of falsehoods from Srinagar’s iconic Zaina Kadal Bridge—capture the enduring fascination with and consequences of rumors in Kashmiri culture. Even today, the legacy of rumor-mongering continues to influence perceptions, with many Kashmiris still questioning: Khaber kya chuk karun? (“What are they planning to do?”).
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