Satish Tikkoo, a young Kashmiri Pandit, was also a social worker and resided near Habba Kadal. He helped people of his community to secure redressal of their grievances and helped Hindu as well as Muslim youth of his locality.
In the early morning of February 2, two Muslim youths, who were acquaintances, reached his residence and enquired about him. Satish Tikkoo ‘s sister, sensing something sinister in their tone, replied to them that he was unavailable. Satish reprimanded his sister for being suspicious unnecessarily. Unaware of their intentions, Satish set out of home a little later. It was a normal morning and he went about peeping into adjoining lanes. Within moments, a dreadful pistol shot was heard and Satish Tikkoo was lying in a pool of blood, motionless.
This brutal murder shattered the Kashmiri Pandit community.
Prof. K L Ganju was a revered lecturer in the Sopore Agricultural College. “He had well observed the changing ‘climate’ of Sopore, and very rapidly, the town was turning into a place of jumbled disorder.” He had begun fearing that he and his family could be the victims of the ‘poisonous’ atmosphere that was engulfing the town. But, again, his very Kashmiri sentiments would engross him in thinking and thus believing that as he did not have any foe in his homeland, had not even hurt a fly in his lifetime, had cordial relationship with the local community and had nurtured bonding with the Muslim friends and families, he could not and would not be targetted, ever.
But, the reality had something else to offer.
On May 2, 1990, Professor Saab, his wife and his cousin ‘Pista’ were having dinner around 9 pm. Suddenly, four armed men, one with a Kalashnikov and the others with Pistols, knocked on their door And instructed them to come with them. The three froze and all their ability to enquire, argue or thwart their orders, vanished in thin air. Blood, curdling within their veins, they walked as told, with neighbours watching as onlookers.
They recognised the armed intruders, who belonged to the local terrorist group of “Luskar Ayub” but none of them, came forward to offer any help or plead for their mercy. They did not even step out to inform the police or nearby CRP picket. Of course, informing the police could have gotten them into more trouble, as there could be a spy within the police force.
All three were taken to a mosque on the bank of the river Jhelum. They understood that they could be executed anytime. First, it was K L Ganju. The Six bullets were pumped into his body from point-blank range. When the first bullet was about to be fired, his hand moved involuntarily diverting the aim of the shooter.
The bullet hit Pista on his heels, injuring him slightly. He spontaneously jumped into the river and swam across to a safer zone. For a few days, he managed to hide in the valley and finally, escaped to Jammu.
Ganju’s corpse was kept in the mosque for the night, for reasons unknown. The next morning, it was thrown into the river. Mrs. Ganju was also assassinated ruthlessly and her body was tied to a stone and thrown in the river but her body could never be found.
(These narratives have been disclosed by the assassins, who were arrested later and upon the statement of the survivor, Pista.)
B K Ganju resided in Srinagar. He shared fairly friendly relationships with neighbours, Hindus and Muslims, both. A ‘friendly’ neighbour of B K Ganju, was a telecommunication officer.
One evening, he came rushing by and informed Ganju that a nearby mosque had issued a list of persons to be ‘finished’ and the list included his family.
The Ganjus feared the worst and their hearts missed heartbeats. Not knowing whom to turn to, they spent the entire night without a single wink. The sleep had disappeared and the body was shivering, thinking what was to happen the next moment. Approaching the police was one option but they feared that would hasten their end. The entire night they hallucinated that someone was knocking on their door.
Yet, they hoped that this fear could be just a bad dream as they had no enemy, had neither cultivated ill relation with anyone, why would they be “finished”?!
Night froze and it seemed the time had become still. Mrs Ganju did not dare to switch on the light and she sat in darkness, in their prayer room, chanting mantras.
Around dawn, in the semi-darkness, when Mrs Ganju was preparing tea, their telephone rang incessantly. Their blood curled, hearing the ring, hands shivered and did not dare to pick up the phone.
Around 9 am. there was a knock on the door… “Where is Ganju Sahib? We have an urgent work with him.” The voice from outside said. To which Mrs. Ganju replied, “He is not at home. He has gone to office.”
The voice from outside argued that how could he go to the office so early? The voice pleaded that he had some urgent work. After a while, Mrs. Ganju stopped replying to him and within no time, the voice seemed to have stopped.
Mrs. Ganju went upstairs and peeped outside, opening the window slightly. Everything outside seemed quiet and there was pin-drop silence all around. But, her agony had not lessened. She advised her husband to ring up the police and inform his colleagues. He had hardly done it and they heard a terrible pounding voice of wooden planks being forced to open the jammed window, opening from the neighbour’s house to the Ganju,’s. Someone was trying to break into their home. Somehow, Mrs Ganju persuaded her husband to go upstairs on the roof and hide himself in the vacant drums with heaps of gunny bags around.
Within minutes, the two intruders broke inside the house with a Kalashnikov and the other with a pistol. They began searching for Mr. Ganju in every nook and corner of the house. They found that one small room was locked from outside. They thought that Ganju was inside and demanded the keys to the room. Mrs Ganju pleaded that the keys were with her brother-in-law and he was out of station. They were furious and smashed the door but found no trace of Ganju. They left saying, “For how long can a rat escape?”
At the corner of the street, the two visitors received a signal from one of the neighbourhoods and they ran back, climbing the stairs of the Ganju house. Mrs. Ganju stood motionless with her legs paralyzed. She understood in an instance, where the intruders were heading towards.
She soon heard a burst of bullets and blood flowing from the holes of drums. The drum had rolled over towards the stairs. Her throat choked seeing her husband lying dead on the roof.
But, nothing seemed to affect the intruders. They left soon afterwards, as if nothing had happened, without giving a single glance to Mrs Ganju, the half-dead woman and her anguished sobs.
The situation in rural Kashmir was no different.
Post-retirement, Sarwanand Koul ‘Premi’ (He was a poet and was known as Premi, as he wrote compassionate poems, illustrating messages of love, truth and justice.) lived in the village named Shali in Anantnag district. He spent most of his time writing articles and pursuing his academic passion. He had translated Bhagwad Geeta into the Kashmiri language and also had a copy of the Quran in his home, which he studied regularly. He had been a Government school teacher and imparted valuable education to all his students, irrespective of their religion, caste or creed and helped them grow in their professional pursuits.
Some of the members of his family were anxious about the growing insurgencies and mayhem and were worried about the safety of the family in the remote village. They suggested migrating to a safer zone but ‘Premi’ would invariably dismiss their suggestion and vehemently put forward his views that moving away from their Motherland, where their generations had resided and nurtured, was unthinkable. He strongly believed that his old students and their families, whom he had affectionately served in acquiring education, would always stand by them if the need arose.
But the reality was starkly different than his ‘poetic’ beliefs. The old sensibility of ‘loyalty as the foremost element’ in society had ceased to exist in the Kashmir Valley civilization.
On the 30th of April 1990, the three armed men appeared at “Premi”’s door. They were ferocious-looking and extremely imposing. They herded all the inmates of the house into one room and instructed the sixty-seven-year-old ‘Premi’ to accompany them to answer certain questions. His son Virender Koul insisted that they could ask as many questions at their home, in a separate room but his protests were in vain.
These, so-called ‘messengers of God’ were well trained in deception and they swore in the name of Allah and assured that no harm would occur to ‘Premi’. Some Muslim neighbours tried to intervene but their mild opposition had no effect.
Eventually, ‘Premi’ was taken to the ‘torture cell’. Virender Koul accompanied his father.
No one dared to report the matter to the police. Not even his lifelong Muslim friends. All knew what was in store and what it meant to be ‘taken away’ but everyone was numb to show any protest.
Two days passed by, with no trace of their whereabouts. Eventually, the dreadful news came as two dead bodies were found hanging on the tree, with their limbs broken, skin slit open and burnt and hair uprooted…
Sudesh Kumar, a law student from Kashmir University has narrated a heart-chilling account of what he witnessed :
“T K Razdan was an Intelligence Officer. They (Sudesh Kumar) were travelling by the same Matador. A few militants suddenly appeared outside the Matador and dragged Razdan out. They fired at him from a close range and pulled away his body to a nearby Mosque. They took out his Identity card from his pocket and nailed it to his body. Then, they laid out his body on the open road. Later, CRPF came and took it away. The body was cremated by the CRPF. The relatives were extremely scared to even perform the funeral!!!
Again after a few days, Sudesh Kumar Ram into a procession. To avoid being identified, he too, joined it and began shouting the slogans that they were shouting.
He shouted slogans for ‘Azadi’ for Kashmir and hailed Pakistan, abusing the ‘Indian dogs’- to save his life !!!
Yet, in a few days, their family received a threatening letter, that was slipped in from under their door. The letter was from Militants and they had ordered them to leave Srinagar, as soon as possible, or else they would meet with the same fate that A K Raina (Deputy Director of Civil Supplies) had met.
Sudesh Kumar’s father was working in the Education department. He decided to leave his family home of generations in his Motherland, in the wee hours of the same night. He, along with his wife, an old father, two sons and one daughter escaped in a hired truck with some bare minimum luggage around 3 am.
Jai Bhagwan was a telephone operator at the Institute of Medical Science in Srinagar.
He has poured out his heart and the agony of being a Bharatiya!!!
He has narrated his sufferings: “Today, we are suffering and living like dogs because we are Indians and stood for India. Had we changed our religion and raised pro-Pakistan slogans, we would have been safe in Srinagar and our future would have been secure.”
He further narrated his painful and humiliating saga :
“One evening when he was returning home, two young men asked him the time. He simply answered but the two men started beating him up!!!
They asked him to adjust his watch according to Pakistan time!!!
The same evening, the house of a Kashmiri Pandit was burnt down. The following night, their homes were pelted with stones and bottles filled with Petrol. Their complaint at the police station was ignored on the pretext of the unavailability of sufficient police force.
Their indifference completely demoralised the Kashmiri Pandit families and the families living in the neighbourhood of Nai Sarak in Srinagar, decided to migrate from their Motherland.
The account of Dr Agnishekhar was heart-aching, Dr. Agnishekhar had acquired a Ph.D. degree from Kashmir University and had authored three novels.
A few months ago, he received a notice from a Militant organisation that as Hindi was a language of Kafirs, he should refrain from writing in it or else he would be exterminated !!!
He got to know that he wasn’t the only one to have received such a threat. His brother, who was a TV artiste, had also been the victim.
One day few unknown men reached his home, enquiring about him. His mother replied that he was not at home. Dr Agnishekhar peeped from his hiding and saw a man, sitting a little far away, under a street lamp. He had a gun with him !!!
Agnishekhar immediately understood that they had come up with a plan to kill him. He somehow managed to escape from the backyard and hide in a friend’s home for ten days. Later, on the first opportunity, fled to Jammu, never to come back. His brother too, managed to escape to Madhya Pradesh.
Seema Raina worked as a Nurse in the Valley. She and her family had fled from the valley at the beginning of 1990 but soon she mustered the courage to go back and collect her paycheck.
As soon as she stepped out of the Jammu and Kashmir bank, a huge procession shouted, “Kashmir me agar rahena hoga, Allah-O-Akbar kahena hoga” and “Dil me rakho Allah ka khauf, haath me rakho Kalashnikov”.
Seema’s blood was racing in her veins. Her mind went blank. Soon she heard gunshots and in a few minutes, the group of militants barged into the bank. They ordered everyone to leave and instructed the Manager to stop making any payments and if he dared not follow the orders, he should be prepared to face the dire consequences.
Seema Raina was trembling with fear and decided to say, hell with the salary… It was surely not more precious than her life.
She took the first available transport, out from the Valley and decided never to return, unless the situation was under control.
Trilokinath Koul was a driver at the Srinagar Radio Station.
He has narrated his tragic saga: “My whole life was destroyed, laid waste. But, for what was happening in the valley, my wife would not have died. My wife was ill with shock and constant fear that the terrorists would kill us all. They didn’t kill her directly, but indirectly they did…”
Sources of Information :
हमारी भूलोका स्मारक : धर्मांतरित कश्मीर – नरेन्द्र सहगल
कश्मीर : दहकते अंगारे – जगमोहन जी
जम्मू कश्मीर की अनकही कहानियां – कुलदीप चंद अग्निहोत्री
Kashmir: Behind The Vale – M J Akbar
My Frozen Turbulence in Kashmir – Jagmohan Ji
100 Documents – Kul Bhushan Mohtra
Madhvi Bhuta is the National Executive of BJP Mahila Morcha and a Columnist on various Forums.
