GUREE (Bijbehara, South Kashmir): The crackle of shattered glass underfoot mixes with the dry, dusty air in the desolate courtyard where Shahzada Bano, 59, salvages what remains of her life.
From the rubble of her modest home in Guree village, Bijbehara, south Kashmir, Bano fishes out a few battered utensils – among the last remnants of a house destroyed by Indian forces.
Her crime, according to authorities: being the mother of Adil Thokar, allegedly linked to the Pahalgam attack that killed at least 26 people.
Bano’s razed home is among at least 10 residential structures demolished across Kashmir within 72 hours, in what authorities describe as a crackdown on suspected militant families. Yet for the villagers of Guree, the razing represents not justice but collective punishment.
No one in Guree slept that night. No one had dinner either.
The green paddy fields and mustard blossoms leading to Guree, nestled near the highway in Anantnag district, are overshadowed by a heavy, sombre silence. The tin gate of Bano’s home now opens to a courtyard strewn with debris: shattered windowpanes, broken dreams.
After the attack, Bano’s husband — a labourer by profession — and her two younger sons, both in their twenties, one working as a painter and the other employed in a private company in Srinagar’s Nowgam area, were detained.
“I requested a woman in the neighbourhood to sleep in my house, as I was afraid to sleep alone,” Bano says, scrubbing utensils before placing them under the sun.
Bijbehara Woman detained
Authorities later detained Bano herself.
“I was kept under detention for one day at the Joint Interrogation Centre (JIC), Anantnag and was released the next morning,” she recalls, her voice parched as dust particles settled in the rubble-filled courtyard.
Officials interrogating her alleged that Adil Thokar had come home three days before the attack, Bano says.
“I told them if they had intelligence that my son had come home, why didn’t they come and kill him in the gunfight?” she asks.
It was on the spring afternoon of April 25, 2018, that Adil Thokar, then a Masters’ student in Urdu, left home for Budgam, informing his family he had to appear for an exam there.
When Thokar failed to return that evening, the family called him. He answered, saying he had another exam scheduled in Jammu the following day. But after that call, he vanished. His phone went off. Calls went unanswered.
The family lodged a missing report at the concerned police station.
Since then, Bano and her younger sons have been subjected to repeated interrogation sessions.
“During every session, officials claim that my son has joined militant ranks, but they themselves say they have no confirmation and don’t know his whereabouts,” Bano explains.
Officials often produced photographs: one of a gun-wielding man, urging the family to identify him as Adil. The family consistently denied that the man in the photo was their son. They were also shown a second photograph — undeniably Adil — but with no weapon in sight.
To date, Adil has neither issued any militant statement nor appeared in the kind of armed photographs typical of those joining militant groups, his mother insists.
Officials often produced photographs: one of a gun-wielding man, urging the family to identify him as Adil. The family consistently denied that the man in the photo was their son. They were also shown a second photograph — undeniably Adil — but with no weapon in sight.
Night of Retribution
On Thursday, April 24, the night before her home was demolished, Bano and her female neighbour sat together on the veranda. The power went out abruptly.
“I fetched a torch from inside,” Bano remembers.
As they spoke under the torchlight, they heard the approaching rumble of military trucks.
“In no time, there were forces all around the village — hundreds and thousands of them,” Bano says. Her neighbours, local shopkeepers, and students confirm her account.
“There was no spot left uncovered. Everywhere a soldier stood,” said 18-year-old Muzamil, a Class 11 student, who prefers to be identified only by his first name.
Two local brothers, repairing their car outside, were forced to enter Bano’s house, phone in hand, and film every room under the supervision of the forces, who monitored the footage on external screens.
After complying, the brothers were suddenly accused of planting an explosive inside Bano’s house.
“It was only when a woman from her rooftop shouted in protest that the forces let the brothers go,” Bano and her neighbours recount.
Bano herself was pulled from her home and dragged far from the site.
“I pleaded with folded hands for mercy,” Bano says. “But they told me, ‘Mother, we cannot do anything. We have orders.’”
Villagers were driven from their homes and herded into the mustard fields under armed watch.
Bano was taken to a neighbouring hamlet.
An announcement was made: a blast was imminent.
At around midnight, a massive explosion shook the village, accompanied by a burst of fire and the destruction of Bano’s house.
While she crouched in the neighbouring hamlet, her legs trembled at the thunderous blast.
As the forces flattened Bano’s house, villagers remained in the mustard fields.
“When I saw it, it felt like lightning had struck me. My elder son accused of a gruesome murder, my two other sons and my husband in detention, and my home razed to the ground,” she says, breaking into tears.
Explosion in Bijbehara House
An elderly woman, unable to walk, was carried to safety by her grandson.
The whole night passed in fear and hunger. No one ate. No one slept.
After the soldiers left, at around 2.30 AM, villagers mustered the courage to return to their homes.
Bano, brought back to what remained of her house, was devastated.
“When I saw it, it felt like lightning had struck me. My elder son accused of a gruesome murder, my two other sons and my husband in detention, and my home razed to the ground,” she says, breaking into tears.
The explosion not only destroyed Bano’s house but also damaged neighbouring homes as well. Four houses, including Bano’s, suffered severe damage: windows shattered, walls cracked.
Now homeless, Bano is staying with a neighbour who offers her food and a place to sleep.
“Till when will they give me space and food?” she asks helplessly.
Bano’s parents passed away after her marriage. She lost her only brother — a J&K police officer — to cardiac arrest years ago.
“Except one neighbour, I have no one,” she laments.
Clearing the rubble is a solitary task.
“No one has offered any help, and I don’t expect them to,” says Bano.
On Saturday morning, officials warned Bano not to venture near the rubble for fear of unexploded material.
They assured her that her detained husband and sons would soon be released.
But besides her immediate family, the forces also detained two of their cousins who lived nearby.
Collective Punishment
Since the Pahalgam attack, authorities have detained over 1,500 individuals across Kashmir, media reports and police sources confirm. Some media reports put the number in 2000.
Officials claim that many of the detained youths had previous records with police or the army or were suspected of providing logistical support to militants.
Footage of Indian forces demolishing homes has flooded social media.
“Actions like these spread fear even as they sow hatred in the hearts of a common man,” said a senior journalist, requesting anonymity.
“Kashmir and Kashmiris are being given collective punishment,” wrote Member of Parliament Ruhullah Mehdi on his official X handle.
Meanwhile, violence erupted in north Kashmir’s Bandipora district, where Altaf Lali — brother of jailed Hizbul Mujahideen militant Talib Lali — was killed in an encounter.
Officials said Altaf was a militant associate.
His family, however, alleges that he was picked up two days earlier from his home and the encounter was staged. Protests erupted in Ajas, Bandipora, and security forces responded with tear gas.
Officials said Altaf was a militant associate. His family, however, alleges that he was picked up two days earlier from his home and the encounter was staged. Protests erupted in Ajas, Bandipora, and security forces responded with tear gas.
Strategic analyst Praveen Sawhney sees a dangerous pattern.
“This is a collective punishment. When you do these things, you alienate the population further,” Sawhney warns.
Kashmiris are already reeling under pressure, facing eviction from lodgings and threats across mainland India.
“If you keep doing what you have done in the past, it is collective punishment, and it does not help,” Sawhney explains.
The government had promised that abrogating Article 370 would fully integrate Kashmir into India. But Sawhney stresses, “It is not about the land, it is about the people this time.”
Living conditions for Kashmiris both inside and outside the Valley have deteriorated.
“House is not just a property but a shelter for the entire family. The right to shelter is a fundamental right and cannot be violated arbitrarily,” wrote policy researcher and lawyer Muntazir Mehdi on X.
Former Chief Minister Mehbooba Mufti called for authorities to ensure “innocent people are not made to feel the brunt.”
Yet many Kashmiris believe that they are being collectively targeted.
“It looks like they were waiting for this attack, so they can create a Palestine-like situation here. They are taking from Israel’s playbook,” said a senior Delhi-based journalist.
Security Lapse?
Amid rising tensions, Prime Minister Narendra Modi issued a stern warning from Bihar.
However, Sawhney believes a full-scale war is unlikely.
"Pakistan is fully prepared. This is not like 2016 so-called surgical strike or 2019 Balakot incident. It is different this time,” he says.
Pakistan has warned that any disruption of water supplies will be considered an act of war.
Sawhney maintains that while the rhetoric is dangerous, only time will tell how credible the threat truly is.
He points to a deeper issue: the false projection of normalcy in Kashmir, leading to a tourist rush even as underlying tensions simmered.
“It has always been a war zone,” he explains.
India quickly blamed Pakistan for the Pahalgam attack, a charge Islamabad denied while offering a joint investigation — an offer India rejected.
Saudi Arabia and Iran’s offers to mediate are meaningless, Sawhney says, because India will not accept third-party intervention.
“They have killed almost all the militants in Kashmir, and there are a million Indian troops here. How did they allow the attack to happen?” asks Shahzada Bano, courageously retrieving a battered flask and a bag of containers from the rubble of her once humble home.
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