Girdhari Lal Raina
Every year, 14th September passes with customary remembrance among Kashmiri Hindus and a section of the nationalist community. It was on this day in 1989 that Shri Tika Lal Taploo, a fearless leader , wellknown advocate, social activist, and Vice President of the Bharatiya Janata Party in J&K, was assassinated outside his residence in Srinagar. His crime was not personal rivalry, nor material ambition. His only ‘fault’ was that he openly challenged the separatist and communal forces who were, by then, preparing the ground for the Pandit exodus as part of secessionist movement and for Kashmir’s violent plunge into radicalism.
Since then, this date has become symbolic of not just Taploo’s sacrifice but of the countless civilians and security personnel who fell defending India’s sovereignty and integrity in Kashmir. Yet, three decades on, we must ask ourselves: has the nation internalised the meaning of 14th September, or has it allowed it to remain a token ceremony?
The Civilizational Battle
The conflict in Kashmir has long been misread. Too often, it is explained as a law-and-order issue, an unemployment problem, or a political grievance of the majority community. This is intellectual dishonesty. The truth is far deeper.
Kashmir has been the site of a civilizational battle-a clash between its syncretic, pluralist heritage and an imported, exclusivist ideology rooted in theo-fascism. Since the 1930s, organised forces, aided by external powers and by opportunistic local elites, have sought to remake Kashmir’s identity. Their method has been consistent: to intimidate, marginalise, or eliminate voices that represent India’s pluralist ethos.
The assassination of Taploo in 1989 was therefore not an isolated act of terrorism. It was a political assassination designed to silence a worldview. He represented unflinching loyalty to the Indian Union, courage in defending minority rights, and a vision of secular democracy in J&K. For the radical forces, such a man was not merely a threat-he was an obstacle that had to be removed.
1931 and the Myth of Martyrdom
The distortion of Kashmir’s history begins in 1931. That year, violent mobs attacked the state headed by Dogra ruler Maharaja Hari Singh, under the guise of opposing monarchy. In reality, the violence was directed against minorities-houses were looted, templesAppraisal, desecrated, and minority Hindus killed. All this is documented.Yet, the National Conference, then Muslim Conference led by Sheikh Abdullah, appropriated 13th July 1931 as “Martyrs’ Day,” canonising those killed in police firing while they were attacking the Central Jail in Srinagar.
For the minority Kashmiri Hindu community, however, 13th July was the beginning of an organised pattern of persecution. From then on, every street mobilisation-whether against autocracy, or later against India-took the form of assaults on the minority community. Whether it was Pakistan’s loss in a cricket match,protest against the government, unrest in Palestine, or even the death of Zia-ul-Haq in a plane crash, Kashmiri Hindu households were routinely attacked.
Yet, successive governments in J&K continued to legitimise 13th July as the official Martyrs’ Day-a day that for the minority community is remembered as a black day. This falsehood was institutionalised, while the genuine sacrifices of thousands-Pandits, Muslims, Sikhs, and security personnel who resisted terrorism-were left without recognition.
NC’s Legacy of Compromise
The role of the National Conference in shaping this distorted narrative cannot be ignored. Sheikh Abdullah and his successors carefully built a political culture where victimhood of the majority was exaggerated, while the persecution of the minority was brushed under the carpet.
This duplicity served two purposes:
- It maintained the NC’s relevance as the “sole representative” of Kashmiris by peddling a grievance narrative.
- It allowed Pakistan and radical elements to penetrate the Valley’s politics under the cover of “people’s aspirations.”
By the late 1980s, the NC’s compromises had hollowed out J&K’s institutions. Corruption, nepotism, and authoritarianism fuelled alienation. Simultaneously, the NC turned a blind eye to the growing radicalisation in mosques, schools, and media. When Pakistan launched its proxy war in the 1980s, the ground had already been prepared.
It is in this context that Taploo’s assassination must be understood. He was a Kashmiri Pandit, a nationalist, and a BJP leader. In him, the secessionist radicals saw the very antithesis of the NC-Pakistan nexus. Eliminating him was meant to terrorise the community into silence and signal the beginning of the exodus.
14th September vs 13th July: The Contest of Narratives
Every society defines itself by the martyrs it chooses to honour. In J&K, the contrast between 13th July and 14th September reveals the ideological battle lines.
13th July commemorates those who attacked the state-an act framed as resistance to autocracy but executed through communal violence.
14th September honours those who died defending India’s unity and secular ethos against imported radicalism.
Yet, for decades, official patronage was extended to 13th July, while 14th September remained confined to community remembrance. This inversion of truth is not just symbolic; it has political consequences. It delegitimises the sacrifices of genuine martyrs while glorifying those who advanced sectarian agendas.
Correcting this narrative is not merely about history-it is about securing the future. A society that honours false martyrs will produce future generations who repeat false battles. A society that honours true martyrs will produce citizens willing to defend truth.
Taploo’s Legacy: Courage in the Face of Fear
What made Tika Lal Taploo different was not his designation but his moral fibre. He was fearless in proclaiming his beliefs. He did not dilute his politics to suit the climate of fear. He reached out to minorities in remote villages even when threats loomed large. I recall my own interaction with him in August 1989 in Baramulla, when the atmosphere was thick with dread. His words to me remain etched in memory:
“Remember Ajay, the first bullet coming out of the gun of a terrorist towards a KP will be borne by Tika Lal Taploo on his chest.”
Weeks later, he kept that promise. Terrorists, unwilling to confront him directly, shot him from behind. His courage unsettled them more than his words. His death was both a personal tragedy and a political turning point-the curtain-raiser to the mass exodus of the religious minorities of Kashmir.
The true tribute to Taploo and countless martyrs is not ritual observance. It is a reorientation of our political and intellectual discourse on Kashmir.
Conclusion: A Call of Conscience
14th September is not merely a date of mourning. It is a day of reckoning for the Indian state and society. It forces us to ask uncomfortable questions: Why were the real martyrs ignored? Why were the persecutors glorified? Why did political elites allow an entire community to be driven out?
If we are serious about national unity, we cannot afford selective memory. Taploo’s sacrifice, and that of thousands like him, must become the moral foundation of our Kashmir policy. Only then can we say with honesty: their martyrdom was not in vain.
The terrorists thought that by killing Tika Lal Taploo, they would silence an idea. They were wrong. The idea lives on-every 14th September, and every day that India refuses to surrender its soul in Kashmir.
(The author is a former Member of the Legislative Council of erstwhile Jammu Kashmir and spokesperson of the BJP JK-UT)
