Alina Ijaz
More than three decades have passed since Indian occupation forces opened fire on unarmed civilians at Gawkadal Bridge in Srinagar, Indian Illegally Occupied Jammu and Kashmir (IIOJK). On 21 January 1990, what began as a protest against security raids ended in one of the deadliest episodes of the Kashmir conflict. The killings at Gawkadal are often remembered for their scale. What is equally important, however, is what they revealed; a security doctrine in which civilian protest was met with lethal force, and where accountability remained absent. That doctrine did not end in 1990. It resurfaced again, most clearly, in Bijbehara in 1993.
The massacre occurred at a moment when Kashmir was already under extreme political strain. The late 1980s had seen growing disillusionment with democratic processes, particularly after the disputed 1987 elections. By early 1990, the Indian central government dismissed the elected state leadership and imposed Governor’s Rule, appointing Jagmohan Malhotra as governor. His tenure marked a shift toward direct, militarised control, with political outreach giving way to an emphasis on order and suppression.
In the days before Gawkadal, Indian occupation forces conducted widespread search-and-arrest operations across Srinagar. Hundreds of young men were detained, and reports of beatings circulated widely. These operations triggered spontaneous public protests. On 21 January, large crowds marched through the city, voicing anger at the raids and the broader atmosphere of repression.
As the procession reached Gawkadal Bridge, personnel of the Central Reserve Police Force(CRPF) opened fire. Eyewitness accounts describe sudden and indiscriminate shooting. Protesters fled in panic, some jumping into the Jhelum River, others running into nearby streets where firing reportedly continued. The dead included students, labourers, and passersby. Official figures initially acknowledged only a few dozen deaths, but hospital records and independent reporting suggest a significantly higher toll. What is not in dispute is that those killed were unarmed.
In the immediate aftermath, the Indian state moved quickly to restore control, imposing curfews and restricting movement. What it did not do was initiate an independent judicial inquiry. No security personnel were held criminally responsible. Over time, police records were reported lost or destroyed, and the case was quietly closed. For the victims’ families, justice remained out of reach.
Gawkadal altered the political landscape. Faith in peaceful protest diminished, while anger and alienation deepened. The months that followed saw a sharp escalation in violence across the Valley, with increased recruitment into militant groups and harsher counter-insurgency measures. In this sense, Gawkadal was not only a massacre but a moment that accelerated the conflict into a far more entrenched and violent phase.
Yet treating Gawkadal as a singular tragedy risks missing the larger pattern. The Indian security establishment did not publicly reassess its approach. Legal frameworks such as the Armed Forces Special Powers Act (AFSPA) continued to grant sweeping immunity to forces operating in IIOJK. The use of lethal force against civilian crowds remained an available option rather than a prohibited failure.
This continuity became undeniable in October 1993, in the town of Bijbehara in south Kashmir. Civilians had gathered to protest the siege of the Hazratbal Shrine in Srinagar, a site of deep religious and symbolic importance. The demonstration was peaceful. Without warning, Indian Army personnel opened fire, killing at least 51 people and injuring hundreds more. As with Gawkadal, the victims were unarmed and no meaningful accountability followed.
Together, these incidents point to something more structural than individual excesses or operational errors. They reflect a system in which civilian deaths were absorbed into the logic of counter insurgency, rather than treated as violations requiring redress. Human rights organisations documented both massacres, yet international responses remained limited, shaped by broader geopolitical considerations and India’s strategic importance.
Gawkadal and Bijbehara also point to something more basic. The repeated use of lethal force against civilians by India, and the absence of accountability that followed, suggest little interest in resolving the Kashmir dispute itself. Instead, force has been allowed to substitute for politics. Internationally, this approach has carried few costs. India’s close ties with powerful states have helped shield it from sustained pressure, even as civilian deaths in IIOJK have continued.
Today, Gawkadal is remembered across IIoJK not only as a site of mourning, but as a reference point. It marks the moment when many concluded that protest offered no protection, and that institutions would not intervene on behalf of the dead. Bijbehara later confirmed that this conclusion was not misplaced.
More than thirty years on, the relevance of Gawkadal lies less in its numbers than in its implications. It shows how quickly exceptional violence can become routine when shielded by law and silence. It also serves as a reminder that unresolved political disputes do not fade with time; they harden. Until accountability replaces impunity and political engagement replaces coercion, Gawkadal will remain not just a memory of 1990, but a warning that continues to echo across IIOJK.
The writer is an active member of HEAL Pakistan Organization, an initiative dedicated to promote Humanity, Education Empowerment, Awareness, and Leadership, in collaboration with Kashmir Institute of International Relations (KIIR). She can be reached at alinaijaz2006@gmail.com