The struggle of Kashmir’s Bakerwal community to find land for their dead

Denied land, electricity and access to schools in life, the nomadic herders say that even in death they have to fight for space. Srinagar, Kashmir: “In Kashmir, every settled community has its own graveyard. But when we Bakerwals ask for land, the answer is always no. Electricity, roads, schools, hospitals—all of that is denied to us. And we don’t even have a place to rest after our deaths,” said Muhammad Haroon Phamda (45), who lives in Dooru, Anantnag.Bakerwals are a nomadic Muslim ethnic group in the Union Territories of Jammu and Kashmir and Ladakh, and parts of Pakistan. They are primarily goat and sheep herders who practice seasonal migration between high-altitude summer pastures and lower-altitude winter grazing areas. In 2014, Phamda lost both his parents in a landslide near the Banihal tunnel. “It was raining heavily that night,” he recalled. “The mountain slid, and my parents were buried alive along with 60-70 sheep and four horses. When I reached the spot the next day, I found their bodies but I couldn’t find land to bury them.”He searched across Anantnag but was turned away each time. Finally, through a friend, he found a patch of forest land offered by members of the Gujjar community in Qazigund. “It was not our land, not our place, but we had no other choice,” he said.Today, Phamda lives in a camp of about 200 tents near Dooru, where his family stays for six months each summer during migration. “When I think of my parents, my heart breaks,” he said. “Their graves are far away in the Qazigund forests. Sometimes I try to go once a year, but it’s too far. If we had a graveyard here, I would go every day to offer fatiha.”This gravestone in Ganiwan, Ganderbal, belongs to Qasim Din a Bakerwal herder. It is part of the only Bakerwal graveyard in Kashmir a rare cultural marker of a community constantly on the move (Photo - Ahsaan Ali, 101Reporters)No space to restEach summer, Bakerwal herders travel with their flocks from the lower hills of Rajouri to the high pastures of Kashmir. The journeys are long and uncertain. When death strikes along the way, there is rarely land to claim or a place to mourn. Many are buried on borrowed land, often through the goodwill of nomadic Gujjar families who let them use parts of forests or private meadows. Others are left with makeshift graves in mountain clearings that vanish with the seasons.On a narrow hillside path between Sonamarg and Ganderbal, Muhammad Sadiq, (75), walks to a temporary ground where some members of the Bakerwal community are buried. His relative Qasim ud Din is one of them. “When one of us dies, it feels like we vanish,” he said quietly. “All we want is a resting place with dignity in death.”Muhammad Sadiq, 75, from Rajouri, makes dua at the only Bakerwal graveyard in Ganderbal for a relative who passed away during the seasonal migration from Rajouri to Kashmir (Photo - Ahsaan Ali, 101Reporters)A few Bakerwal families own land in the mountains. Those who do bury their dead in personal community graveyards nearby, but most cannot. Without formal burial grounds, they depend on community elders to identify the deceased and arrange funerals—no certificates, no records. The elders identify the deceased and confirm whether they are from Bakerwal or not. Transporting a body to Ganiwan in Ganderbal, the community’s lone graveyard, is often impossible. Many deaths occur mid-migration—from illness, old age, landslides, or cloudbursts—leaving behind graves that fade back into the earth.For Sadiq, who has spent his life moving between Rajouri and Kashmir’s upper meadows, the struggle is generations old. “We have been migrating from Rajouri and other areas for ages, but we still don’t have a proper graveyard,” he said. The land given to the community in Ganiwan around 20-25 years ago is already running out of space. “Around a hundred people are buried there. We don’t know when it will close for us too.”After offering prayers at his relative’s grave in the only Bakerwal graveyard in Ganiwan, Ganderbal nearly 50 km away, 75-year old Muhammad Sadiq walks toward his tent high in the mountains (Photo - Ahsaan Ali, 101Reporters)Maintained by the local Gujjar community, the Ganiwan graveyard lies near the Sindh River, away from the main highway. “Whenever a Bakerwal dies, whether in Srinagar, Shopian, or elsewhere, families must travel nearly 100 kilometres to Ganiwan,” said Sadiq. “Most cannot afford it, so when someone dies high in the mountains, we bury our loved ones nearby, in places with low human movement.“If a death occurs during migration, we either manage to bury the person in Ganiwan or, in rare cases, request land from local Kashmiri residents. Such requests are often unsuccessful, but the Gujjar community usually provides space, ensuring that even in remote areas, our dead receive a proper resting place.”According to the 2011 Census, there were about 1.13 lakh Bakerwals in Jammu and Kashmir —more than 6.4% of the state’s Scheduled Tribe population. Community leaders say the number has nearly doubled since.Speaking to 101Reporters, Talib Hussain, a social activist from the Bakerwal community, said that under the Forest Rights Act, they are entitled to both individual and community rights. “Community rights allow us to use forests; individual rights allow us to build houses, schools, even tribal villages,” he said. “But despite existing as long as every other community and despite contributing to the state’s second-largest industry of meat, milk, and wool we still face one basic question: when one of us dies, where do we bury them?”Ganiwan area in Ganderbal hosts the only Bakerwal graveyard in Kashmir, a space that is almost at capacity, raising concerns for the community’s future burials (Photo - Ahsaan Ali, 101Reporters)Discrimination“Our demand is simple,” said Hussain, a social activist from the Bakerwal community. “If there were even two common burial grounds across Kashmir where we could bury our people, that would be enough. According to Islam, burial should be on one’s own land. But now we have to beg others for a little space, or search faraway forests for some old graveyard. In Jammu, people have even purchased land for graveyards with their own money even if they cannot afford to build their homes.”He added, “All nomads are registered voters of Jammu and Kashmir. There is not a single one among us who is not a voter. Yet we do not have even a single piece of land for a graveyard. If this is not extreme discrimination, then what is?”Hussain blamed successive governments for neglecting the Bakerwals. “No policy has ever been made for us, and no leader has ever been allowed to emerge to speak for us,” he said. “After the abrogation of Article 370, forest rights were technically extended to us. But instead of empowering us, the government pushed Bakerwals out of their meadows in Jammu and demolished our homes so we could not claim land under the Forest Rights Act. This is oppression.”“I myself fear that in future, when I die, where will I be buried? Even as a social activist, this fear haunts me,” he said.Hussain also criticised Kashmiri society and religious institutions for their silence. “It was their duty to speak up for the Bakerwals—not just for the nomads of Jammu and Kashmir but for nomadic communities across India,” he said. “Kashmiris are the majority here, and they also hold political power. We expected them to speak for us too. But for them, we are Muslims only as long as we are inside the mosque. Beyond that, our name becomes an insult. In Kashmiri society, Bakerwal is a word used as abuse.”“And even in death, we are abandoned.”Cover photo - Muhammad Sadiq, 75, stands beside the only Bakerwal graveyard in Ganiwan, Ganderbal, wondering if this resting place will continue to be used in the future (Photo - Ahsaan Ali, 101Reporters)

‘No punishment can truly compensate for what I have been through’

Life stops the moment acid falls on a victim. What follows is years of medical care, mental trauma, long-drawn legal battles, unending wait for compensation and financial strainSrinagar, Jammu and Kashmir: Anisa Nisar (26) of Srinagar was engaged to Sajid Altaf Rather, but things took a dark turn when he and his family started demanding gold, money and other valuables. Realising that Rather was not a good match, Anisa decided to end the connection. Both families agreed, and the wedding was called off.“However, Rather did not stop there. He began stalking Anisa daily, threatening her over the phone and harassing her on social media platforms. Despite her efforts to move on, his actions continued for months,” said Anisa.“After the arrangement was called off, the accused started threatening us. He warned that he would burn us alive. We feared for our safety and went to the police for protection, but our concerns were ignored,” said Nisar Ahmad, Anisa’s father.  On February 1, 2022, when Anisa was working at a beauty parlour, Rather and a minor friend planned an acid attack on her. According to the prosecution, the minor even justified the act by saying, “These types of girls deserve this kind of treatment.”“Rather obtained the acid from a mechanic’s workshop. He lied to the workshop owner that he needed the acid to remove a tattoo on his chest. The mechanic, in turn, bought the acid from another shop, saying it was needed for car parts,” said Advocate Mir Naveed Gul, who was assigned by the District Legal Services Authority to Anisa's case.On the day of the attack, Rather waited outside Anisa’s house in Wantpora. As Anisa walked home, he threw acid on her face. A nearby woman heard her screams, called her son, and soon informed the police. By then, Rather and his friend had fled the scene on a scooter.The police quickly arrived and sent Anisa to the hospital, where her condition was termed critical. Gul recalled, “I was there at the hospital. Her one eye was completely damaged, and she could not see anything.” Within 10 days, the police identified and arrested all those involved — Rather, his juvenile accomplice, and the mechanic who helped procure the acid were arrested. Rather worked as a salesman in a medical shop at Dalgate. CCTV footage from the shop served as solid evidence against him.The FIR (No. 08 of 2022) was formally registered on March 8 at Nowhatta Police Station, under Sections 326-A and 120-B of the IPC. The exact reason for this delay is not officially documented, and while it raises concerns about procedural consistency, the situation is not uncommon in urgent or high-profile cases.Soon, a 1,000-page chargesheet was submitted by the Special Investigation Team (SIT). The SIT, formed within a few days after the incident in February after public outrage and media coverage, was led by the senior superintendent of police (SSP), Srinagar, with the DSP and SHO of Nowhatta Police Station as part of the team to ensure a thorough investigation. The trial The trial began the same year in the Principal Sessions Court, Srinagar, with Judge Jawad Ahmed presiding. As per the law, the juvenile’s trial was handled separately in a juvenile court. Advocate Gul assisted the prosecution on behalf of Anisa.During the trial, the victim shared her painful experience and asked for the harshest punishment for the convict, hoping no other girl would suffer the same trauma. She lost sight in her left eye, can barely see from her right eye, and needs constant help to move around. She underwent 23 surgeries, spent over Rs 48 lakh on treatment, and still requires more medical care with no hope of regaining her eyesight. Her mother even sold their house to cover expenses. The court recorded her photographs, showing the severe damage caused by the attack. Other than the Rs 3 lakh she received from the victim compensation scheme and Rs 1 lakh from the administration, she got no other financial help. Another acid attack survivor, Sehar Nazir, stood by her in court for support. The convict showed no remorse, and the victim pleaded for proper compensation and strict punishment. In court, Anisa faced her attacker during his trial. She observed no remorse in his demeanour, noting, “He destroyed my life and my family’s happiness.”The convict’s lawyer argued for leniency, citing his young age and lack of prior criminal history, while the convict and his sister also begged for a lighter sentence. The court, considering all arguments, found the convict guilty under Section 326-A of the Indian Penal Code, which mandates at least 10 years of imprisonment, possibly extending to life, along with a fine to cover the victim’s medical expenses.“In my 14 years of practice, I have never seen such a high-profile case being disposed of so quickly. It took just 2 years and involved 46 witnesses,” Advocate Gul shared. The witnesses included people who saw the attack, doctors who treated her, police officers involved in the investigation, forensic experts and people who knew both Anisa and the accused. Weekly hearings ensured that the case moved forward efficiently. After a two-year trial, on March 4, 2024, Rather was found guilty and sentenced to life imprisonment under Section 326-A r/w 34 of the IPC. However, he was acquitted of charges under Section 120-B IPC. The court also imposed a fine of Rs 40 lakh on the convict. However, the fine has not been recovered yet, and Advocate Gul continues to fight for this compensation. “The accused’s family approached Anisa’s parents two days before the court’s judgment, offering to pay all the expenses and meet their demands. However, they later discovered that the accused had no property or money,” said advocate Gul.Anisa’s parents have appealed to the SSP and the deputy commissioner of Srinagar to help recover Rs 40 lakh from the accused. “I am just a tailor, and I do not know how much longer we can continue like this. We need help with the ongoing expenses,” Anisa’s father said.Another accused, Mohammad Saleem Kumar, the mechanic who helped the main accused procure the acid, was charged under Section 326-A r/w 120B of the IPC (attempt to cause grievous hurt using acid in criminal conspiracy). Rather reportedly told him he needed it to remove a tattoo, and Kumar then sourced the acid from another shop under the pretext that it was needed for car repair. He was acquitted of those serious charges and was instead convicted under Section 336 IPC, which deals with acts that endanger human life or the personal safety of others. He was sentenced to three months of imprisonment, which was adjusted against the time he had already spent in detention. The final sentencing order was issued on March 6, 2024.Financial strugglesAnisa’s parents have faced overwhelming financial and emotional challenges since the acid attack. Her father shared that they have already spent around Rs 1 crore on her treatment, with most of it going toward saving her damaged eye.They explained that the monthly medical expenses are enormous. “We spend around Rs 2 lakh per month on medicines and around Rs 3 lakh for each surgery,” her father said. Despite these efforts, Anisa’s recovery remains uncertain, and they do not know how long it will take for her to fully heal.Anisa’s family shared how NGO Athrout offered them help. “Their support made a big difference in covering some of Anisa’s medical expenses and ensuring she got the care she needed,” the family said. The NGO has a history of helping acid attack survivors by providing financial aid for medical treatment, rehabilitation and long-term care. Altaf Bukhari, a politician, also provided around Rs 20 lakh. However, the family feels abandoned by others who had the power to assist. “Our local MLAs did not help. The previous administration, under the Centre, made false promises — like a job offer from the deputy commissioner of Srinagar — but we never received anything,” Anisa’s father said. The current government told them they would respond to their application for help, but they are still waiting for a call.The family highlighted that local people have been their biggest support. “If the locals had not helped us, I do not know where we would be,” said her father.  Awareness mattersNGOs play a key role in upholding the rights of acid attack survivors and in spreading awareness to prevent similar incidents in future. According to the National Crime Records Bureau, 596 cases of acid attacks were reported in India between 2014 and 2018, but only 149 resulted in convictions. This disparity highlights the challenges within the legal system, including prolonged trials and difficulties in evidence collection.NGOs like Human Rights Law Network (HRLN) actively address this through legal advocacy and support. They provide pro bono legal services, advocate for victims’ rights, and conduct public interest litigation to address systemic issues related to acid violence. They often collaborate to offer comprehensive support, including legal aid, medical assistance and rehabilitation services.In Jammu and Kashmir, NGOs such as Roshni Foundation play a crucial role in raising awareness, advocating for stricter laws and providing support to victims and their families. Their efforts in the form of protests and campaigns aim at creating a safer environment for women and ensuring that victims receive the necessary medical and psychological support.Speaking to 101Reporters, Alok Dixit, Founder of Chaanv Foundation, said delayed investigations, court backlogs and frequent adjournments extend legal battle to five to 10 years. "Despite the severity of the crime, trials are not fast-tracked. As a result, survivors often end up compromising with the perpetrators due to financial strain and emotional exhaustion," he said, adding that many attacks go unreported because survivors fear threats from their attackers, face social stigma or lack family support.On the compensation front, Dixit said, "The compensation policy for acid attack survivors follows a one-size-fits-all approach, which does not consider the varying degrees of injury and the lifelong medical and psychological needs of survivors."Moreover, he claimed that survivors are often subjected to insensitive questioning in court, forcing them to relive their trauma repeatedly. "There is no structured support system in place — no trained legal aid professionals or mental health counsellors — to assist them through these trials."The Supreme Court of India, in its 2013 order, directed all states and union territories to strictly regulate acid sales. It made it mandatory for sellers to keep records of buyers, including ID proof and the purpose of purchase. It also banned over-the-counter acid sales to minors and stated that only licensed retailers could sell acid, with a clear record submitted to the police. However, implementation remains weak, allowing acid to still be bought illegally in many places."Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita Section 124 mandates strict punishment for acid attacks, but the legal system still fails to provide timely justice and adequate rehabilitation,” Dixit said.Anisa advocates for stricter laws against acid attackers and better monitoring of acid sales. She also calls for more sensitivity in the legal process, faster trials, and comprehensive support systems for survivors. “The system should ensure no one else has to endure what I did,” she emphasises.When asked about the court verdict, Anisa shared mixed feelings. “He destroyed my life. No punishment can truly compensate for what I have been through.”   This story was originally published as a part of Crime and Punishment project in collaboration with Vidhi Centre for Legal Policy.Cover Photo - Representative image/ AI-generated using Canva