A Valley Turns Silent
It was the winter of 1990.
The Kashmir Valley, wrapped in white snow, was meant to be calm — Dal Lake shimmering under the pale sun, children playing with snowballs, saffron fields sleeping under frost.
But that year, another sound filled the air — loudspeakers blaring from mosques, slogans echoing through the night:
"Kashmir mein agar rehna hai, Allahu Akbar kehna hai"
If you want to stay in Kashmir, you must say Allahu Akbar.
Then came the most chilling part — names of Kashmiri Pandits being read out. A list, a warning, and a death sentence rolled into one.
The Exodus of a Community
The attacks began quietly — one man killed, another threatened, a family’s house marked.
Soon, the killings became open and brutal.
Tika Lal Taploo, a Pandit leader, was shot outside his home.
Lassa Kaul, Director of Doordarshan Srinagar, was gunned down.
Doctors, teachers, judges — all targeted.
The message was clear: Pandits had no future in the Valley.
By the end of that winter, more than 3.5 lakh Pandits fled overnight — leaving behind homes, orchards, temples, and centuries-old bonds with the land.
A Young Woman With Dreams
Among those who stayed was Sarla Bhatt — a young lab technician at Sher-i-Kashmir Institute of Medical Sciences.
She wasn’t involved in politics. She believed her work in the hospital would keep her safe.
She was wrong.
The Night of Her Disappearance
In April 1990, armed men entered the hospital premises.
They weren’t there for medicine. They came for her.
Sarla was abducted silently from her hostel room.
A Brutal End
Days later, her body was found.
She had been tortured — in ways so horrific that people still lower their voices when they speak of it.
Her killing was a message to every Pandit still in Kashmir: Leave now, or face the same fate.
The Silence That Followed
There was no outrage, no serious investigation.
Files disappeared, witnesses vanished, and leaders looked away.
Sarla’s name lived only in whispers among displaced Pandits.
A Mirror of a Larger Tragedy
Her murder reflected a wider pattern:
Pandit homes marked, looted, burned.
Families executed in cold blood.
Temples desecrated.
Women threatened and, in some cases, brutalised.
It was not random violence — it was systematic.
35 Years Later — A File Reopens
After 35 years, the State Investigation Agency has reopened Sarla’s case.
Old records are being pulled out.
Suspects — now old men — are being questioned.
The Valley’s ghosts are being forced to speak.
But Can Justice Survive Time?
Thirty-five years is a long time.
Memories fade, evidence rots, witnesses pass away.
Can justice still be done?
For the Pandit community, this isn’t just about one case — it’s about being heard after decades of silence.
A Name That Refuses to Fade
Sarla Bhatt’s voice was silenced in 1990, but her story is being told again — in homes, in exile camps, in courtrooms.
Her death represents a time when an entire community was uprooted overnight, when neighbours turned into silent bystanders, and when home became the most dangerous place of all.
Her name is a reminder:
The dead do not rest when the truth is buried.
Even after decades, the demand for justice can be louder than the silence that followed the crime.