By: Sumaiyya Kainat
Each year, as October 27 draws near, the Kashmir Valley weeps under the burden of irreplaceable memories. For million Kashmiris, what India celebrates as Accession Day announces land dispossession, betrayal and the start of the world’s longest unresolved conflict. The day, since then designated as Black Day, not only remembers the landing of Indian forces in Srinagar in 1947, but also that of an occupation by the military which continues to quell the aspirations of a whole nation. It is a poignant reminder that a political choice made under duress in 1947 has never led to a settled, enduring peace for the people of the region.
When the Indian Army came on October 27, 1947, it came under the pretext of an ‘Instrument of Accession’ signed by Maharaja Hari Singh. However, the narrative remains controversial. This so-called document never came from any sound international authority, but it was used as the ground for India’s claims over the territories. The United Nations’ 1948 promise that the future of Kashmir would be decided through a free and fair plebiscite remains unfulfilled. This was a temporary measure intended to be, but ended up being a symbol of eternal jobs. For the Kashmiris, this day does not evoke integration or unification; it evokes a pledge broken and a voice silenced. The valley has, through the decades, seen a dark transformation from the control of the gun to the manipulation of numbers, and from political oppression to information repression. A political conflict has become a human catastrophe.
The years after 1947 witnessed not the advent of democracy, but the exacerbation of martial rule. The special status granted before under Article 370 and 35A provisions that promised partial autonomy was unilaterally abolished by New Delhi in August 2019. In one stroke, Kashmir lost indeed the emblematic traces of its unique character. Thousands of troops were deployed, communications were suspended, and political leaders were put under house arrest. The vale was made into an open captivity, its quiet executed by fear and surveillance. But indeed with the sweats to silence it, Kashmir’s resistance persists. From the mothers who wait endlessly for disappeared sons, to the children who have grown up to know nothing but roadblocks and night- time curfews, the narrative of Kashmir is one of adaptability. Generations have grown up in occupation, their adolescence bartered against doubt and loss. Every October 27, that loss finds expression as a collective of the day the valley lost its freedom to choose its own fate.
Globally, Kashmir continues to be a test of universal conscience. The United Nations resolutions on self-determination collect dust in libraries, quoted but no way acted upon. Human rights groups, similar as Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch, have continued to validate abuses, extrajudicial murders, arbitrary apprehensions, torture, and denial of abecedarian freedoms but the world is still hesitant to intervene. Geopolitical interests, trade alignments, and strategic alliances generally stamp moral responsibility. At a time when democracy is being hailed around the world, the withholding of democratic choice in Kashmir is one of the most glaring contradictions. India’s story, scripted in terms of national cohesion and counterterror, attempts to cover up the human toll of its policy. But the ground reality tells a different tale. Militarization of civilian life one of the highest globally, has consumed not just physical space but also emotional space. Each house wears the memory of loss, each household bears the trace of a raid, and each street the imprint of footsteps that never came back. The valley’s eerie silence is not peace it is fatigue.
In the face of despair, Kashmir resists with art, literacy, and survival. In the face of suppression, Kashmiri artists capture their reality, conserving it. Every rebellious lyric, every smuggled photograph is an act of rebellion, attesting that memory prevails over occupation. October 27 must be a mirror for the conscience of the global community. The question is not whether India or Pakistan is the rightful home for Kashmir, the question is whether Kashmiris have the right to be the home of their own country. Justice is not calibrated with maps but by the dignity and will of the people. Kashmir has been discussed but not addressed for far too long. The world must hear something other than the silence.
Seventy-seven years have elapsed, but the promise made to Kashmir is still unfulfilled. The valley still endures in silent resistance, the rivers flowing with memories filled with beauty and agony. October 27 will always be treated as a Black Day for Kashmiris until the instruments of power are matched by the instruments of justice. Reminiscence is valuable, but the perceptible actions that make commemoration result in correction are all the more valuable. Until the right to self-determination is translated into reality, October 27 is not just an ordinary calendar date but an indelible wound to the common conscience of humankind, a sad reminder that the quest for freedom, once initiated, does not die with successive generations; but only deepens.
The writer is a student of BS International Relations at International Islamic University Islamabad. Currently she is serving as a research intern at the Kashmir institute of International Relations (KIIR).