(Kashmir Rechords Exclusive)

The picturesque valleys of Pahalgam echoed with screams this April—not from the delight of tourists but from the horror of gunfire. In a chilling ambush, unarmed Hindu tourists were targeted, shot and killed in cold blood. India mourned. Headlines flashed. But for those who have tracked Kashmir’s tortured history, the massacre brought not shock—but déjà vu. Because this was not the first time!

Over the last 35 years, Jammu and Kashmir has witnessed a series of calculated, faith-driven massacres. Innocents—teachers, pilgrims, wedding guests, labourers—have been singled out, segregated and slaughtered. Not because of what they did. But because of what they believed.

A Pattern Written in Blood

The modus operandi has barely changed. Whether in1990s or 2001, whether in the Valley or the hills of Jammu, the message has remained: “Convert, flee, or die.”

Go back to Wandhama, January 25, 1998—23 Kashmiri Pandits, including women and children, were lined up and shot. The gunmen had impersonated soldiers, earning trust before turning their weapons on the faithful. Despite desperate pleas for mercy, not one soul was spared.

Just three months later, on April 17, another carnage unfolded—this time in the quiet village of Prankote in Mahore area. Here, the cruelty was medieval. Hindus were told to convert to Islam or face death. When they refused, 29 villagers, including women and toddlers, were hacked to death with axes and sickles. Their homes were set on fire.

Two months on, June 19, the horror returned—Chapnari village, Doda. Twenty-five Hindu men were separated from Muslims and gunned down near a stream. No warning. No mercy.

These weren’t mere outbreaks of violence—they were communal pogroms designed to alter the demographic soul of the region.

The Gool incident of June 15, 1997 reinforced this pattern. Three Kashmiri Pandit teachers, including the Principal traveling on a local bus, were pulled aside. Muslims were spared. The Pandits were shot dead.

Massacres as Message Boards

These weren’t isolated acts; they were deliberate spectacles. To send a message. To sow fear. To incite communal backlash across India.

Consider August 1, 2000—Amarnath pilgrims were returning from darshan when terrorists struck near Pahalgam. Thirty people, including 18 pilgrims, porters and CRPF personnel, were killed in one of the bloodiest attacks on religious pilgrims. Over 60 were injured. The target? Faith. The intention? To disrupt one of Hinduism’s holiest pilgrimages.

Or take the Chattisinghpora Massacre, March 2000—when 35 Sikh men were executed on the eve of President Clinton’s visit. Though Sikhs were the victims this time, the purpose was identical: religious minorities were marked for elimination.

And then came Nadimarg, March 24, 2003—when Terrorists   came dressed as security forces. The families were cornered and executed.

In Rajouri, 2002, 35 wedding guests—Hindus—were gunned down in a marriage celebration. Once again, identity was the only crime.

In Doda, the pattern lasted years. On April 30, 1996, 17 Hindus were dragged from their homes in Kishtwar and murdered. On August 20, 2001, 15 more were killed in Shrawan village. These weren’t impulsive attacks. They were systematic efforts to empty Jammu’s hills of its Hindu presence.

Terror has since mutated. While large-scale massacres have reduced, targeted killings have become the new weapon.

In 2021, Deepak Chand, a Hindu teacher, and Supinder Kaur, a Sikh principal, were shot inside a Srinagar school—during working hours.

Hindu labourers from Bihar and Uttar Pradesh have been picked off in Pulwama, Kulgam and Shopian—often while asleep or during work. Even bank managers, hawkers and migrant employees have been assassinated after being identified by their names or IDs.

And Now, Pahalgam—Again !

The April 2025 Pahalgam massacre of Hindu tourists is only the latest entry in this long catalogue of communal killings. It mimics the past with brutal clarity—outsiders, visiting the Valley, targeted only because of their faith.

It’s not the first time Hindus– be those tourists or pilgrims or labourers have been killed. And it may perhaps not be the last if the pattern is not understood for what it is: a campaign of segregation, elimination and fear.

The tragedy is not just the deaths. It’s that Indians often forget. That each new killing is treated as an aberration, not part of a chilling continuum.

This write-up by Kashmir Rechords is not just an account—it’s a reminder—- That massacres have a memory— That terrorism in Jammu and Kashmir has often been religiously selective, and that Hindus— aborigines, pilgrims, baratis, teachers, or tourists—have repeatedly borne the brunt.

The list of atrocities mentioned here is definitely incomplete, but the message behind them has always been loud and clear. And it’s time we stopped pretending otherwise.