Shazia Ashraf Khawajha
When history recounts the cataclysmic bloodshed of the 1947 Partition of India, the focus often falls on the train journeys of death between Punjab and the communal inferno of Bengal. Yet, nestled in the northern reaches of the subcontinent, a tragedy of staggering proportions unfolded with a chillingly systematic nature—the ethnic cleansing of Muslims in the princely state of Jammu and Kashmir. This was not merely a spontaneous outburst of communal fury; it was a calculated campaign of violence that, according to contemporary reports from the London Times, resulted in the deaths of hundreds of thousands and the forced exodus of nearly half a million Muslims, forever altering the region’s demographic and political landscape.
To understand the events of late 1947, one must first appreciate the volatile context. Jammu and Kashmir was a Muslim-majority state ruled by a Hindu Maharaja, Hari Singh. His reign was marked by policies that often marginalized the Muslim population, creating deep-seated resentment. As the British prepared to leave India, the princely states were given the option to accede to either India or Pakistan or remain Independent. Maharaja Hari Singh, hesitant and hoping for independence, delayed his decision, leaving the state in a perilous limbo.
The summer of 1947 saw the flames of Partition spreading. In Jammu, RSS was ready weaponized these partition flames. Rastriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), which had established a significant presence in the Jammu region as early as in march 1947 and began organizing and arming Hindu militias. Their objective, as later analyses would suggest, was clear: to eliminate the Muslim demographic majority in Jammu, thereby strengthening the Maharaja’s—and by extension, India’s—claim to the entire state.
The violence erupted with full force in September and peaked in October and November of 1947. It followed a brutal pattern. Hindu mobs, often led by RSS cadres and backed by the Dogra State Forces, systematically targeted Muslim villages and neighbourhoods. The state apparatus, far from being a neutral arbiter, was complicit. And in many instances, actively participated in the killings, providing transport and logistical support to the mobs. Earlier Maharaja has ordered the disarming of 60000 Muslim soldiers who has fought in world war second largely belong the Poonch
The Maharaja’s troops disarmed not only Muslim soldiers and but all villagers, leaving them defenceless, Eyewitness accounts and journalistic reports from the time paint a harrowing picture. Convoys of refugees fleeing towards the border with West Punjab were ambushed and slaughtered. Entire villages were razed, and their inhabitants were killed. The violence was not a simple riot; it was a coordinated campaign of terror designed to force a mass migration. The estimates of the dead vary, reflecting the chaos and the political motivations of different sources. The government of Pakistan and contemporary reports in the London Times cited astronomical figures, suggesting a death toll between 200,000 and 280,000, with nearly 500,000 forced to flee. More conservative, though still horrifying, estimates from later historians place the number of killed between 70,000 and 100,000. Regardless of the precise figure, the scale of the human tragedy was immense.
The international press took note of the unfolding genocide. The London Times, in its November 10, 1947 edition, published a dispatch that starkly contrasted with the official narrative emerging from New Delhi. The report stated, “The Maharaja of Kashmir is, with the help of RSS, carrying out a systematic extermination of Muslims… 237,000 Muslims have been systematically exterminated… and women have been abducted.” This was not an isolated report; other foreign correspondents and officials, including officials from the British High Commission, sent alarmed dispatches describing the state-sponsored nature of the violence.
Why, then, did the Jammu massacres not become as central to the Partition narrative as the Punjab killings? The answer lies in the immediate political aftermath. The standard Indian official narrative posits that the Maharaja’s accession to India was a legal and voluntary act, necessitated by an unprovoked tribal invasion from Pakistan in late October. This narrative deliberately obscures the timeline and causality of events. The truth is far more complex and contradicts this official story. Firstly, the Jammu massacres and the Poonch rebellion preceded any significant tribal incursion. The state was already in a state of civil war due to the Maharaja’s actions. Secondly, the idea of a voluntary accession is undermined by India’s own diplomatic manoeuvres. When the Maharaja, fearing both the internal rebellion and the growing pressure from India and Pakistan, proposed a Standstill Agreement with both dominions to maintain the status quo, Pakistan agreed. India, however, rejected it. Furthermore, the Maharaja had dispatched his Prime Minister, Ram Chandra Kak, to ascertain the possibility of remaining independent. The British Resident’s opinion was clear: independence was not a viable option. This left the Maharaja isolated and vulnerable.
Facing a losing war against his own people and with the tribal forces now advancing rapidly in the wake of the rebellion, a panicked Maharaja fled Srinagar. It was only at this point, India on one hand forced Maharaja to sign an instrument of accession written in Delhi , airlifting troops to Kashmir valley the same day and then approaching United Nations, effectively burying the preceding months of ethnic cleansing and indigenous revolt under a new, convenient geopolitical narrative.
The consequences of the Jammu massacres were profound and enduring. The forced exodus of hundreds of thousands of Muslims dramatically reduced their demographic weight in the Jammu region, tilting the balance in favor of the Hindu population—a demographic reality that persists today. For the survivors and their descendants, now living in Azad Kashmir and elsewhere, the events of 1947 remain a raw wound and a foundational element of their identity, symbolizing a betrayal and a loss of homeland that has never been officially acknowledged or atoned for.
The tragedy also set a dark precedent for the Kashmir conflict. It entrenched a deep-seated mutual distrust and provided a historical justification for Pakistan’s security concerns, while allowing India to build a narrative that ignored its own complicities. The unresolved nature of this history continues to fuel the cyclical violence and political stalemate that defines the region.
In conclusion, the Jammu massacres of 1947 represent a critical, yet often overlooked, chapter in the story of Partition. They were not a side-effect of chaos but a targeted campaign of ethnic cleansing, backed by state forces and fuelled by majoritarian ideology. Remembering this event is not about apportioning blame across generations, but about acknowledging a historical truth. A full understanding of the Kashmir issue is impossible without confronting the haunted plains of Jammu, where the first and one of the most brutal acts of the tragedy was staged, leaving a legacy of silence and sorrow that echoes to this day.
Author is research associate at Kashmir Institute of International Relations and can be reached at shaziahashrafkhawaja@gmail.com.