13th July is a significant date in the history of Jammu and Kashmir, observed officially for decades as Martyrs' Day. While the dominant state narrative associated this day with the 1931 uprising against the Dogra rule, a deeply overlooked and painful chapter remains the suffering of Kashmiri Pandits—an ancient community indigenous to the Kashmir Valley. For the Kashmiri Pandit community, July 13th carries different connotations rooted in a long history of persecution, discrimination, and systemic erasure. In recent years, voices from the community have started reclaiming this date as a day to remember their own martyrs—those who lost their lives not just in 1931 but in waves of violence and targeted killings, particularly during the 1989–1990 insurgency when their exodus from the Valley began. The identity and memory of Kashmiri Pandits are deeply intertwined with the soil of Kashmir. For thousands of years, they were not just residents of the Valley but custodians of its culture, knowledge, and traditions. Yet, their historical suffering is often relegated to footnotes. The community remembers various periods of upheaval—the 14th-century forced conversions, the atrocities during Afghan rule in the 18th century, and more recently, the terrifying night of January 19, 1990, which marked the start of a mass exodus from their homeland. However, July 13th represents a deeper civilizational wound for them. On this date in 1931, while the Kashmiri Muslims rose up against the autocracy of the Dogras, the uprising soon turned into communal rioting in parts of the Valley. Kashmiri Pandits bore the brunt of mob attacks, with looting and violence specifically targeting their homes, shops, and temples.
This part of history remains highly contested and politically sensitive. But for Kashmiri Pandits, the 1931 incident was not merely a struggle for justice but the beginning of marginalization within their own land. It was a precursor to further political exclusion and an early signal of the communalization of the Valley’s polity. When successive regimes commemorated July 13th as Martyrs' Day—honoring the 21 killed outside the Srinagar Central Jail—the counter-memory of Kashmiri Pandits was ignored. No space was granted for their narrative. The emotional alienation only deepened over decades, as they witnessed the decline of their population, power, and presence in Kashmir. The eruption of insurgency in the late 1980s was catastrophic for the Pandit community. Political slogans quickly morphed into blood-chilling threats. Walls were plastered with graffiti demanding either conversion, flight, or death. Targeted killings of prominent Pandits—judges, professors, civil servants, and commoners—created an atmosphere of terror. Over 700 Kashmiri Pandits were killed, and more than 3.5 lakh were forced to flee their homes, many carrying nothing but a few clothes and memories. They ended up in cramped refugee camps in Jammu, Delhi, and elsewhere, with little state support or public outcry. Their tragedy did not evoke the kind of solidarity typically reserved for displaced communities. Instead, there was silence - cold and calculated.
In the refugee camps, the community fought not just physical hardship but psychological trauma. Generations born after the exodus have grown up without seeing their ancestral homes, their temples, or the almond orchards of their villages. The struggle has been one of identity—how to preserve a culture that was once deeply rooted in a place now out of reach. Language, festivals, cuisine, and rituals were carried on, but the loss of land and spiritual geography remained irreparable. Every Kashmiri Pandit household carries memories of a home they left behind, of a shrine desecrated, of a neighbor who turned hostile, and of a state that failed to protect them. In this context, July 13th is a painful reminder of selective remembrance. For decades, Pandits watched as the state organized official functions to mark this day, laying floral tributes at martyrs’ graves, while ignoring their own dead and displaced. Their grief was invisible, their loss unacknowledged. This exclusion from public memory and political discourse has led many Pandits to call for the recontextualization of this day. Some demand that it be declared as a remembrance day for all victims of violence in Kashmir—regardless of religion. Others assert it should be recognized as Kashmiri Pandit Martyrs’ Day to acknowledge those who were killed for their identity, culture, and belief.
The call for acknowledgment is not rooted in vengeance but in justice. Kashmiri Pandits are not merely seeking symbolic recognition but institutional memory. They want the textbooks to tell their story. They want museums, memorials, and documentaries that preserve their trauma. They demand that the Kashmiri Pandit victims of targeted killings be officially recognized as martyrs. They ask for their temples and shrines to be restored, not just physically, but in public consciousness. Most importantly, they want their children to grow up knowing that their suffering was not forgotten or ignored. Over the years, successive governments have made announcements about return and rehabilitation, but little has materialized on the ground. Even those who returned under government schemes live in ghettoized colonies, isolated and under constant security. Integration remains a distant dream. The fear of history repeating itself is still alive in the hearts of the community. Unless there's a sincere reconciliation, grounded in truth and mutual respect, wounds will remain open. The acknowledgment of July 13th from the perspective of Kashmiri Pandits is essential for that process to begin.
History is complex and often painful. The stories of communities cannot be selectively told. A society that remembers only one side of its past is doomed to repeat its tragedies. By recognizing July 13th as a day of dual memory—honoring both the victims of political oppression and those of communal violence—we can hope to build a future rooted in empathy. Only by honoring all martyrs, regardless of religion or ideology, can Kashmir hope to move forward. For the Kashmiri Pandits, July 13th is a date soaked in tears and silence. It is a symbol of erasure, but also of resilience. Despite all odds, the community has preserved its culture, voice, and spirit. The new generation is asking questions and seeking justice. They are not asking for revenge, but for a place in history. A rightful space in the narrative of a land they once called home. A day to remember not just how they died, but how they lived—and continue to survive.

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