Ever since Article 370 was removed in 2019, the phrase “new Kashmir” has been repeated again and again. News channels spoke about development, integration, investment, tourism, and peace. Slowly, Kashmir started being shown more through beautiful tourist spots, hotels, tulip gardens, and growing business opportunities. Anyone looking from outside would think that Kashmir has finally moved ahead from its painful past and entered a completely peaceful and developed phase.
But as someone coming from Kashmir, I often feel that there is another side of Kashmir that people no longer want to talk about. The image of Kashmir may have changed, but for many people, the reality of life has not changed as much as it is shown. The real question is not whether more tourists are visiting Kashmir. The real question is whether justice has reached the people who suffered during years of conflict, detention, violence, and fear.
Development cannot only mean hotels, highways, or tourism revenue. It cannot only mean making Kashmir look peaceful on television. Real development should also mean that people feel secure enough to speak without fear. It should mean that people trust the law. It should mean that those who suffered injustice are acknowledged instead of being forgotten. Most importantly, it should mean that constitutional rights exist not only in books but also in the everyday lives of ordinary people.
These are questions that still remain unanswered for many Kashmiris.
For decades, Kashmir has lived through unrest, militancy, armed conflict, crackdowns, curfews, and political instability. During these years, many people were detained under laws such as the Public Safety Act (PSA). Some were accused of involvement in militancy, some in stone pelting, and others were detained simply on suspicion or because authorities believed they could become a threat to public order. While the State defended these detentions as necessary for maintaining security, the impact such arrests had on ordinary families was enormous.
One thing that is often forgotten in discussions about Kashmir is that imprisonment here did not only affect the detainees themselves. Entire families suffered with them. Mothers spent years visiting prisons. Fathers exhausted savings fighting legal battles. Children grew up watching fear become a normal part of daily life. Some detainees were shifted to prisons outside Kashmir, making it even more difficult for families to meet them. Even after release, many former detainees returned home carrying social stigma, mental trauma, and fear that never completely left them.
Growing up in Kashmir, stories of detention and torture were not distant stories found only in newspapers or reports. They were stories people whispered about in neighborhoods, homes, and gatherings. Many former detainees over the years gave testimonies alleging severe custodial torture and inhuman treatment. Some spoke about electric shocks, severe beatings, humiliation, sleep deprivation, and degrading treatment during interrogation. Others described being treated as if they were less than human. Whether every allegation reached courts or not, one cannot deny that these testimonies left behind deep scars in the minds of people.
What makes the issue even more disturbing is that even children and teenagers allegedly caught during periods of unrest also spoke about violence and abuse. Several reports over the years documented allegations of minors being beaten, threatened, and psychologically traumatized. Many young people lost years of education and normal childhood because conflict became a part of their daily lives. Even today, many continue to live with anxiety, fear, and emotional trauma that is rarely discussed openly.
The removal of Article 370 was presented as a fresh beginning for Kashmir. People were told that this constitutional change would bring peace, development, equality, and progress. But for many who directly suffered during years of conflict, the pain did not suddenly disappear after August 2019. Trauma does not disappear because a constitutional provision is removed. Fear does not disappear because television debates move on to another topic.
In fact, one thing that many people in Kashmir silently feel today is that they have learned to suppress their voices. It is not always that people have healed from what they went through. Sometimes, people simply stop speaking because they believe nobody will listen or because they fear consequences for speaking openly. There still exists a strong fear among many that raising questions against authorities may once again lead to detention, interrogation, or action under laws such as the PSA.
The situation in Kashmir has never been completely black and white. The region has suffered from militancy, terrorism, civilian killings, and serious threats to public order for decades. Security forces also operated under extremely difficult circumstances. The government argues that strong laws and preventive detention are necessary to maintain national security and prevent violence. And it is true that no country can ignore threats to security and public safety.
However, the existence of security threats should not completely silence conversations about human dignity and accountability. A democracy is not judged only by how strongly it controls violence, but also by how fairly it treats people while doing so. The Constitution of India guarantees the right to life and personal liberty under Article 21. It also provides safeguards against arbitrary detention. But for many people in Kashmir, these constitutional protections often felt distant from their lived reality.
This is what makes the issue of Kashmir's forgotten detainees so important. The debate is not simply about politics. It is about human lives. It is about asking whether justice can truly exist if people continue to carry memories of torture, humiliation, fear, and silence for decades without acknowledgment or healing. It is about asking whether development can be considered complete while so many unresolved wounds still remain beneath the surface.
Today, when Kashmir is discussed nationally, conversations mostly revolve around tourism numbers, infrastructure projects, elections, and investment opportunities. Rarely do people talk about the psychological cost of conflict on ordinary Kashmiris. Rarely do people ask what happened to those who spent years in detention or how their families rebuilt their lives afterward. Rarely does anyone ask whether former detainees ever received rehabilitation, mental-health support, or even basic dignity after release.
Many Kashmiris today continue living between memory and silence. Some are afraid to speak. Some are tired of speaking. Others feel that their pain has already been forgotten by the rest of the country. This silence itself says a lot about the unresolved trauma conflict leaves behind.
Perhaps that is the biggest tragedy — not only the suffering people experienced, but the fact that their suffering slowly disappeared from public memory while political narratives moved ahead.
If Kashmir is truly moving toward a new future, then development alone cannot define that future. Roads, tourism, and investments are important, but they cannot replace justice, dignity, and healing. A truly “new Kashmir” cannot exist if the voices of those who suffered during years of unrest remain unheard and forgotten.
Years may have passed since Article 370 was abrogated, but one difficult question still remains: has justice truly reached Kashmir's forgotten detainees, or have they simply been left behind in the celebration of a new political narrative?
Views are personal.