As a young Kashmiri who grew up in an environment clouded by fear and uncertainty—where grenade attacks and firing were not just news but lived realities—I often found myself asking difficult questions. Who is behind the scenes, allowing this violence to unfold? Who is manipulating these young boys, who should have been in college but instead ended up pelting stones on the streets? Who is radicalising them? Back then, I had little awareness of the shadow governance that existed alongside the official administration in Kashmir—the so-called Tehreek or separatist movement. But I believe God grants critical thinking to those He chooses, and perhaps I was one of the fortunate few. As I matured, I began to uncover the impunity and unchecked influence that separatist leaders like the SAS Geelani-led Hurriyat once wielded. It shocked me to learn that these leaders, who called on young boys to come out on the streets and risk their lives, never started such "revolutions" from their own homes. Their sons were either safely employed in the public sector or living comfortably abroad. It was a moment of painful realization—that the common Kashmiri had long been used as a pawn in a game whose remote control rested in Islamabad. Now at 25, with a better understanding of the politics that shaped my youth, I watch old videos of these separatist sermons and feel deep pity for the innocent, vulnerable people of my homeland. A man whose son holds a prestigious government post in Kashmir, drawing a salary from the Indian state, had the audacity to tell the youth not to "sell their so-called Azadi" for a mere job. A man who himself received an MLA’s pension from the Indian government, and whose home was protected by Indian forces, dared to preach that Kashmiris shouldn't trade "Azadi" for a flyover. It breaks my heart to write this. Kaash aisa na hota... hamare kitne jawaan bach jaate. (If only it hadn’t been this way... so many of our youth could have been saved.)
During those years, the influence of the Hurriyat was so overwhelming that no one dared to oppose them openly. Speaking against separatism was not just risky—it was life-threatening. I recently spoke to a journalist who has been against violence from the very beginning. He recounted a chilling incident: Yasin Malik’s men stormed their newspaper office, sprinkled kerosene everywhere, and were ready to set it ablaze—all because the paper had published an article critical of separatism. No one will tell our younger generation about the zulm (oppression) of separatism—except those who witnessed it firsthand. For instance, at Residency Road in Lal Chowk, there stands a famous hotel, Ahdoos. But who will tell today’s Kashmiri youth about how Shabnam Qayoom and his son were brutally beaten there by Yasin Malik’s goons—just because he wrote something Malik didn’t like? No one will, because no newspaper dared to report it. If I continue writing about such incidents, I’ll never be able to finish. And honestly, I’d probably end up in tears—because remembering this history punctures my heart. Separatism didn’t just dominate Kashmir’s socio-political landscape; it started spawning multiple offshoots, each carrying forward the same ideology in different forms. But then, in 2019, God had mercy on the common Kashmiri. We finally got a sigh of relief. And post-2019, we saw what real peace looked like. Gradually, Kashmiris began embracing this peace—something we had long been denied. As an activist, I’ve interacted with countless ordinary Kashmiris, and I can feel the change in their mindset. People have started questioning the lies they were fed for decades. And this shift poses a serious challenge to Pakistan, the very nation that orchestrated this entire mess from Islamabad. Their decades-long agenda has been rejected by the people of Kashmir. As if that wasn’t enough of a blow to Pakistan, their wounds have now been salted by a recent, historic development: Four offshoots of the Hurriyat have officially severed ties with separatism. They have openly declared themselves loyal citizens of India—admitting that separatism brought them nothing but bloodshed, destruction, and pain.
The decisive shift began when the Union Home Ministry banned the Hurriyat Conference in October 2023 under the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (UAPA), citing its links with terror funding and its role in orchestrating unrest in the Valley. The Hurriyat, which once enjoyed unquestioned influence, began crumbling as the ground reality in Kashmir changed after the abrogation of Article 370. Today, terrorism is breathing its last in Kashmir. Local recruitment into terror outfits is at its lowest, stone pelting has become a thing of the past, and the youth of Kashmir are turning to education, employment, and entrepreneurship. In a major blow to the remnants of separatism, four offshoots of Hurriyat recently disassociated themselves from the secessionist ideology and pledged loyalty to the Constitution of India. These organisations include Jammu and Kashmir People’s Movement (JKPM) and Jammu and Kashmir Democratic Political Movement (JKDPM)—both of which announced their decision on Tuesday—followed by J&K Tehreeqi Isteqlal, led by Ghulam Nabi Sofi, and J&K Tehreek-I-Istiqaamat, chaired by Ghulam Nabi War, who declared their disassociation two days later. These leaders openly admitted that Hurriyat failed to represent the genuine aspirations of Kashmiris and has brought nothing but bloodshed, broken promises, and pain.
To understand what this development means for the people of Kashmir, I spoke to four individuals from diverse walks of life—a teacher, a retired government employee, a young entrepreneur, and a social activist. Mehmooda Bano, a schoolteacher from Baramulla, said, “I have lived through the era of shutdowns and strikes. What we see now is real freedom—the freedom to live, work, and dream without fear.” Waseem Rather, a tech startup founder in Srinagar, said that this development is proof that Kashmiris are embracing a New Bharat with open arms. “What the Hurriyat couldn’t do in 30 years, peace and democracy have done in five,” he added. Ghulam Qadir Lone, a retired engineer from Anantnag, praised the government for finally uprooting a poisonous tree whose shade gave nothing but darkness. Shabnam Wani, a rights activist, called it “a second chance at life” and said the credit goes to the visionary leadership of Prime Minister Modi and Home Minister Amit Shah, who ensured that the doors of reconciliation and transformation were not shut, even on those once blinded by separatist propaganda. This development isn’t just political—it is deeply emotional and symbolic for every Kashmiri who always yearned for peace but was silenced by fear.
This moment is more than a political shift—it’s the soul of Kashmir reclaiming its voice. The silence that once screamed through shuttered schools, burning tyres, and bloodied streets are now being replaced by laughter in schoolyards, tourists on houseboats, and the dreams of entrepreneurs writing their destinies in code, craft, and commerce. Those who once chained the Valley in the illusion of rebellion are now watching their thrones of deception collapse under the weight of truth and accountability. Kashmir is not just moving on, it is rising. Not with slogans of hate but with the poetry of peace. The departure of these four separatist outfits from the path of violence is not a retreat—it is an awakening. An awakening of conscience, of courage, and common sense. The new Kashmir does not belong to those who thrive on conflict. It belongs to those who build, who heal, who educate, and who unite. And to every youth who once stood at the edge of a misguided choice, this moment says: you are not too late to turn back and begin again. Let those who still serve foreign agendas know: Kashmiris are done being pawns. We are players now—of our own game, on our own soil, under our own sky. And the winds of change? They aren’t just blowing. They are roaring.

Email:-------------------soulofkashmir1@gmail.com