It has been 35 years since the Kashmiri Hindu exodus, one of the darkest and most painful chapters in Bharath’s post-independence history. In January 1990, the Valley was turned into a warzone for its own indigenous Hindu population, a night when mosques blared chilling slogans like ‘Raliv, Galiv ya Chaaliv‘ (convert, leave, or die), and thousands of families fled under fear of death and dishonour. The tragedy was not just the brutality inflicted upon them, but the systematic denial of justice that followed. Even after three and a half decades, not a single mastermind or militant has been held accountable. The community that once formed the cultural soul of Kashmir continues to live as refugees in their own country, victims of a genocide that the Bharathiya judiciary has refused to even formally recognise.
Despite hundreds of documented killings, rapes, and disappearances, the courts of Bharath have failed to act. Cases have languished for decades, witnesses have died waiting, and files have vanished from record rooms. When Kashmiri Hindus approached the Supreme Court in 2017 seeking a reinvestigation of the genocide, the petition was dismissed as ‘too old.’ Such remarks not only insult the memory of those who were slaughtered but also expose a moral collapse, where technicalities outweighed humanity and dharma. In contrast, cases involving separatists and terror accused have seen fast-track hearings and bail orders, highlighting a selective sensitivity of justice that has crushed faith among victims.
Judiciary’s silence: a complicity in the Kashmiri Hindu genocide
The betrayal is not limited to inaction; it is compounded by indifference. No special tribunal was ever set up, no commission empowered to probe the genocide, and no reparations made for the destroyed temples or looted homes. Successive governments made symbolic gestures, yet the judicial silence remains deafening. The perpetrators, many of whom roam free in Pakistan-occupied territories or live comfortably abroad, boast of their crimes while the victims languish in camps.
Bharat’s judiciary proudly calls itself the last hope of justice. Yet for Kashmiri Hindus, victims of one of the most brutal genocides and mass exoduses in modern Bharat, that hope has been systematically crushed. As per OpIndia, for 35 long years, not a single mastermind of the 1990 genocide has been punished. Courts that open at midnight to grant mercy to convicted terrorists, that rush hearings for NGOs, infiltrators, and street dogs, have never once shown similar urgency for the Kashmiri Pandits who were raped, murdered, and forced to flee their homeland. The silence of the judiciary is not mere negligence; it is active complicity in erasing the suffering of a community that continues to live as refugees in their own nation.
Midnight mercy for terrorists, silence for Kashmiri Hindus
The contrast could not be starker. When a terrorist’s mercy plea is filed, the Supreme Court lights up at midnight. When NGOs backed by foreign funds demand instant hearings, the judiciary obliges within days. But when thousands of Kashmiri Hindu families cry for justice, there is only one answer: adjourned. No suo motu notice, no fast-track bench, no public outrage within courtrooms. A genocide that should have triggered a Nuremberg-style trial has instead been buried under files, delays, and technical excuses. If the courts can move mountains for those who wage war against the nation, why have they done nothing for those who stood by the Tricolour when the Valley burned?
What the judiciary has done to the Kashmiri Hindus is not just denial, it is betrayal. By prioritizing the rights of terrorists, by entertaining petitions from radicals and infiltrators, and by refusing to treat Hindu suffering with urgency, the judiciary has abandoned its constitutional duty. The very institution meant to protect citizens has become a fortress shielding anti-national forces. While Hindus watch decades pass without accountability, the perpetrators of their misery enjoy protection through ‘fair trial’ rhetoric and ‘procedural limitations.’ In every delay, every adjournment, every evasive order, the judiciary’s moral collapse stands exposed.
This is not an accident. It is the result of a captured legal ecosystem where lobbyists, activists, and ‘liberal-secular’ elites dictate what the judiciary must prioritize. From Yakub Memon’s midnight plea to Rohingya deportation stays, courts have acted swiftly whenever it pleased the global narrative. But for the Kashmiri Hindu genocide, there is no timeline, no hearing, no justice. Bharat’s judiciary has, through its selective activism, rewritten the meaning of justice: swiftness for the enemies of Bharat, silence for its victims. When the temple of justice refuses to hear the cries of its own people, it ceases to be a temple; it becomes a monument to hypocrisy.
The forgotten victims of justice, 1990 exodus and judicial silence
From the chilling slogans of ‘Raliv, Galiv, ya Chaliv’ (convert, die, or flee) to the targeted assassinations of teachers, doctors, and intellectuals, every act of horror against this minuscule minority was meticulously documented. And yet, the halls of Bharatiya justice have remained deafeningly silent.
The judiciary, an institution meant to stand as a last resort for the oppressed, has failed this community. Despite mountains of evidence, eyewitnesses, and recorded confessions, not a single major perpetrator of the 1990 Kashmiri Hindu genocide has been punished. Worse still, while global human rights bodies have recognized patterns of ethnic cleansing elsewhere, Bharatiya courts have refused to even acknowledge that Kashmiri Hindus suffered genocide.
The winter of 1989–1990 saw a systematic campaign of terror unleashed upon the Kashmiri Hindu community. Prominent Hindus were killed in broad daylight, Hindu women were threatened with abduction, and temples were desecrated. Nearly 400,000 Kashmiri Hindus were forced to flee overnight, leaving behind homes, lands, and centuries of cultural heritage.
And yet, even after 35 years, the judicial system has not convicted a single top planner or executor of this mass displacement. The few FIRs registered in the early 1990s were either lost in bureaucratic files or closed due to a lack of evidence. Courts that often take suo motu notice of the slightest rights violations chose silence when an entire community was rendered stateless. In 2017, the Supreme Court dismissed a plea seeking reinvestigation into the 1990 killings, citing the ‘passage of time.’ The same judiciary that reopens colonial-era cases or re-examines historic wrongs could not muster the courage to revisit the ethnic cleansing of an entire Hindu population.
Even today, the genocide remains legally unrecognized, despite meeting every criterion under the UN Genocide Convention. The refusal to use the term ‘genocide’ is not just semantic, it is a conscious act to deny the gravity of Hindu suffering.
Judiciary’s double standards on human rights
Bharat’s courts have displayed a troubling double standard when it comes to human rights. When terror suspects, separatist sympathizers, or Islamist activists approach courts, bail hearings are expedited, and constitutional protections are invoked in their defense. But when displaced Kashmiri Hindus seek justice or basic rehabilitation, their pleas gather dust.
In September 2025, the Supreme Court dismissed a PIL by Panun Kashmir Trust that sought age-relaxation benefits for displaced Hindus in government jobs. The same judiciary that often issues directions for preferential treatment of riot victims, minority groups, or Dalit activists refused to even hear this humanitarian plea. The Court coldly termed it a ‘policy issue,’ effectively washing its hands of moral responsibility.
This hypocrisy is glaring. Courts have repeatedly invoked ‘constitutional morality’ to defend accused extremists, yet fail to apply the same empathy towards Hindus who lost everything to Islamist terror.
Political and ideological influence in the Judicial ecosystem
The roots of this bias run deep. For decades, Bharat’s intellectual and legal ecosystems have been shaped by a secular-left narrative that deliberately avoids naming perpetrators when the victims are Hindu. The conflict in Kashmir was reduced to a ‘law and order’ or ‘political’ issue, never a human catastrophe. The judiciary, influenced by this vocabulary, echoed the same evasive tone.
A generation of activist lawyers, NGOs, and retired judges, often sympathetic to ‘Kashmiri separatism, helped construct this narrative. They amplified the idea of ‘human rights violations by the Bharatiya State’ but remained silent about human rights violations against Hindus. Their influence ensured that courts hesitated to confront uncomfortable truths, that the genocide was religiously motivated, planned, and executed with ideological intent.
Even today, when petitions are filed for justice or recognition, they are met with judicial restraint and procedural excuses.
Judicial response in anti-Hindu vs anti-Islamic cases
Consider the Wandhama massacre (1998), where 23 Kashmiri Hindus were murdered by Islamist militants, or Nadimarg (2003), where 24 were lined up and shot. Despite surviving witnesses, no major convictions have been secured. Similar silence surrounds Sangrampora and Telwani killings.
Now compare this with the judiciary’s response to cases like Best Bakery (2002) or Khairlanji, where it rightly acted with urgency, transferred cases, and ensured accountability. Why was the same proactive judicial spirit absent for Kashmiri Hindus? Why were their cases never transferred to fast-track courts or moved out of Kashmir to ensure fairness?
Judicial activism becomes loud and moralistic when criticizing the government or the majority community. Yet, when Hindus are victims, the same activism retreats into silence. This asymmetry reveals a deeper problem, a moral prejudice masquerading as neutrality.
A nation that cannot deliver justice to its displaced sons and daughters cannot claim to be a democracy rooted in equality. The judiciary’s long silence on the Kashmiri Hindu genocide is not merely a lapse; it is a moral failure. Every unpunished killer, every dismissed plea, and every procedural excuse is a reminder that justice in Bharat has often been conditional, and for Kashmiri Hindus, denied altogether.
It is time to break this cycle of neglect. Bharat needs a Special Tribunal or Truth Commission to document and prosecute crimes against Kashmiri Hindus, modeled on international genocide tribunals. Laws must be amended to allow time-bar exemptions for crimes of ethnic cleansing.
The judiciary must introspect, not as an institution of power, but as a guardian of conscience. If courts can move mountains for symbolic causes, they must find the courage to stand with those who lost homes, heritage, and history.
As Bharatiyas, Kashmir is ours, and every Kashmiri Hindu is one of us. The Hindu genocide in the Valley can never be tolerated; justice must be served, and the perpetrators must be held accountable. Islamic extremism must end, and the judiciary must rise to its duty and deliver long-overdue justice.
