Tears, Triumph, Closure as LG Sinha Delivers Long-Awaited Justice to Terror Victim Families
FIRDOUS AHMAD
SRINAGAR, Aug 5:
There are moments in history when the weight of silence is lifted, when long-buried pain finds expression, and when justice—though delayed—finally arrives. Such a moment unfolded on Tuesday at the Sher-i-Kashmir International Conference Centre (SKICC), where grief gave way to dignity, and forgotten families of terrorism victims felt seen, heard, and embraced by a state that had once seemed distant.
The solemnity of the day was matched by its emotional gravity, as Lieutenant Governor Manoj Sinha personally handed over government job appointment letters to 158 next of kin (NoKs) of those who lost their lives in the decades-long wave of violence in Jammu and Kashmir. For the families in attendance, many of whom had waited for years without recognition or support, the moment was nothing short of historic.
In the crowd sat Junaid Ahmad from Anantnag, who, at just two years old, had lost his father to terrorism. Life, he said, was merciless. His mother died ten years later, and the siblings were left to fend for themselves. “My sister was married off at 15. I wandered from door to door, seeking help, but no one cared—not even our relatives,” Junaid shared, his voice thick with emotion. He admitted that he had often contemplated ending his life, feeling invisible in a world that had forgotten him. But on this day, with the appointment letter in hand, something shifted. “This is the first time I feel noticed, acknowledged. I have nothing but prayers for LG Manoj Sinha,” he said, eyes glistening.
Yasmeen Bano from Baramulla could hardly find the words to speak. The ceremony brought back memories she had long tried to suppress—memories of a father lost, a mother’s struggle, and a life of hardship. All she could manage was a choked whisper: “Today, as I held this letter, I couldn’t stop my tears. I am overwhelmed.”
Another young woman, Bisma from Qazigund, had grown up without ever knowing her father. He was killed before she was born. Her entire childhood was shaped by her mother’s laborious effort to survive. “She worked in people’s homes, carried me on her back while sweeping floors. We had no one. Today, this man—LG Sinha—came to us like an angel. I can’t describe what I feel. All I have is gratitude.”
Junaid Ali Malla, too, lost his policeman father to a terror attack when he was just three years old. No support came, no help was offered, and his family had to rebuild their lives from scratch. “But I always told my mother that my father’s sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain. Today proves I was right. I am proud to receive this letter.”
Anju Riyaz’s voice trembled as she recalled her own story. Just six months old when her father was killed, she and her mother were thrown out by their paternal family. “We had to live in my mother’s home. No one helped. Not a soul. But today, I feel something we’ve never felt before—peace.”
Among the many stories that echoed through the hall, one that stood out was that of 16-year-old Soliha Javed from Bijbehara. She recounted how her father was killed in a terrorist attack when she was just a kindergartner. Since then, her mother had carried not only the weight of grief but also the burden of single-handedly raising a daughter in the absence of financial and emotional support. “She would clutch my hand with one hand and carry documents in the other, going from office to office, searching for someone to hear us out,” said Soliha, now in Class 10. “This appointment letter is not just about employment. It is justice for my mother’s struggle and my father’s memory. For the first time in all these years, I saw a look of relief on my mother’s face.”
As she spoke, her tone wasn’t one of bitterness or blame, but quiet strength. “With this support, I can now focus on my studies. My father always wanted me to become someone. Today, I feel like his dream is finally possible.”
While handing over the letters, Lieutenant Governor Manoj Sinha said the moment marked a turning point in the state’s responsibility toward families that have endured unthinkable pain. “The long wait for justice is over. These families have suffered in silence for too long. We are committed to ensuring that the perpetrators of such heinous acts and their sympathisers are brought to justice. The government stands with every single victim of terrorism, not just in words, but in action.”
Among the many present at SKICC was Samena from Anantnag, whose family had lost members to terrorism nearly three decades ago. For 29 years, no official knocked on their door, no words of comfort were offered, and no aid ever arrived. “Time passed, but the pain never did,” she said. “For the first time in 29 years, someone in authority looked at us not with pity, but with compassion. LG Sinha gave us justice, not just sympathy.”
She recalled how over the years, people around her would advise her to move on, to forget what had happened. “But how do you forget pain that never leaves you?” she asked. “Today, I cried not because I was sad, but because I finally felt heard.”
As the ceremony concluded, there was a visible change in the atmosphere. Grief had not disappeared—it never truly does—but it had found recognition. And with that, came a fragile but powerful sense of healing.
At SKICC, on a day rooted in history, the air was heavy not just with memories, but with meaning. Through the eyes of children who had grown up in shadows and the voices of mothers who had fought battles in silence, a new chapter was written—one of justice, of visibility, and of long-overdue dignity.
