For many Kashmiris, the prison system is not a distant institution. Everyone knows someone who has been detained, and emotions tied to the suffering of detainees have become part of the campaign
As political parties have been campaigning for elections in Jammu and Kashmir, a blind man was asked to vote and told that if the party comes to power, the government would provide him relief. “I want my eyesight back,” he wished. His wish is a reminder of the distance between what is promised and what is possible. In Kashmir, hopes are politicised by every manifesto but are likely to never become reality.
In the ongoing elections in Jammu and Kashmir, candidates from all walks of life have chosen to contest with promises of development, vying for people’s trust. All of them are promising electricity, roads, hospitals, education and jobs. No candidate has neglected to call for restoration of the now-revoked constitutional provision Article 370 that once granted the region limited autonomy and connected it with New Delhi conditionally. Every politician promises to fight for its restoration, even though the decision lies in the hands of the Parliament, where J&K holds only five seats—a reminder that these promises, like many before them, are often more symbolic than attainable.
Amid this chaos of campaign promises and political rhetoric, the issue of prison and prisoners has found a space in the election vocabulary of Kashmir. Two major political parties—the National Conference (NC) and the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP)—have pledged to release prisoners and repeal detention laws, such as the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (UAPA) of 1967 and the Jammu and Kashmir Public Safety Act (PSA) of 1978, which have been long wielded to silence dissent and detain those with alleged ties to militancy.
For many Kashmiris, the prison system is not a distant institution but its extent reaches well into the community. Everyone knows someone who has been detained. Inside these prisons, where Kashmiris remain detained, they are political nerve centres where every shift in political ideology and policy is dissected and debated. Prisoners tend to follow the news closely, hoping any shift in political policy will have an impact on their fate—and perhaps even become the reason for their early release. However, shifts in power and policy rarely trickle down to those who remain behind bars.
In the ongoing elections, Sheikh Abdul Rashid alias Engineer Rashid, a prisoner since 2019 in Tihar jail, has turned around his life. Last June, he won a parliamentary seat from north Kashmir, defeating former Chief Minister Omar Abdullah and former minister Sajad Lone by a margin of 2,00,000 votes. This led to political chaos in Kashmir. Rashid’s success is credited to his imprisonment, a shared experience for thousands of families in the region. His election has given rise to slogans such as “Jail ka badla, vote se” (revenge for jail, with votes) and “Tihar ka badla, vote se” (revenge for Tihar, with votes). These slogans reflect a deep-seated sentiment among voters who see Rashid’s imprisonment as emblematic of broader injustices that define the everyday in the Valley.
People are hopeful of a future where they could be free, reconnect with their families, and rebuild their lives—should a new government deliver on its promises.
Rashid’s nascent Awami Ittehad Party (AIP) has received significant support across the Valley, with 34 candidates contesting in the three-phase assembly elections. Until a few weeks ago, the AIP hardly had any structure and worker base, but it has rapidly emerged as a strong force. Rashid, who was released on interim bail from September 11 to October 2 to campaign for the elections, faces accusations from his political rivals. Former Chief Ministers Omar Abdullah and Mehbooba Mufti and former minister Sajad Lone have alleged that Rashid is a “BJP agent” who has been floated to siphon votes and create a hung assembly on October 8, the day of the results.
In Kashmir, where political conspiracies are innately entrenched in its history, predicting the next kingmaker is an exercise in uncertainty. Whether Rashid is truly a BJP agent or a real change-maker remains to be seen. However, his connection with the electorate through the collective pain of imprisonment is palpable. As of August 2022, 5,148 inmates were held in 14 jails across J&K, exceeding the sanctioned capacity of 3,629. This figure does not include the hundreds of prisoners in facilities outside the region, such as in Uttar Pradesh, Delhi and Haryana. Thousands of petitions challenging PSA detentions are pending in the High Court, while under-trials await hearings in lower courts. For them, the legal process itself becomes a punishment—a cycle of delays and ordeals.
When I was in prison, every hearing would be a glimmer of hope that this might be the final one, that I might finally walk out—until nearly two years passed. The general pace of progress in Indian courts is exasperatingly slow. In these years, I have witnessed how rumours of amnesty would go viral in the prison, especially on occasions of Eid, Independence or Republic Day. While we waited endlessly, these rumours would never translate into reality. We could only just hope that a court verdict changes our fate.
Despite this harsh reality, why has prison become such a significant node in this election? Emotions tied to the suffering of detainees have become part of the campaign, particularly voiced by Rashid and all other political parties now. The crackdown of the last few years has brought many to their knees, with suffering and an eerie silence imposed everywhere. Thus, any promise of alleviating that suffering sparks hope, both outside and within the prison walls. People are hopeful of a future where they could be free, reconnect with their families, and rebuild their lives—should a new government truly deliver on its promises. Whether this materialises or not, that doubt remains.
In the past elections, promises to revoke the PSA or release prisoners often dissolved into mere rhetoric once the governments were formed, bringing little to no change. This time, however, Rashid has made prison the centrepiece of the elections. His rivals, too, have leaned into this narrative.
Lone, who heads the People’s Conference, frequently references his own stint in prison during media briefings or public speeches, drawing a parallel with Rashid’s time in Tihar. Mufti, who led the coalition government with the BJP from 2015 to 2018, reminds voters of the government’s amnesty initiatives and revocation of cases against thousands. Abdullah has also pledged to release prisoners. Each candidate is riding on the sentiment of collective suffering of prisoners and their families, politicising it to strengthen their electoral appeal.
Prisoners need to be looked at as humans with equal rights. Prisons are not correctional facilities or reformation centres but a concrete state of mind where you are stuck, degenerating and gradually moving closer to death. Medical facilities are not even close to what we have in remote villages. Mental health is an alien concept. Prison rights, at best, are an academic topic. Basic food is a privilege and extra food a wish. Hope is a lifeline, release a dream. One must be either very tough or very numb to survive.
In such an atmosphere, where the kernel of election campaigning is prison, thousands are being swayed by these promises. Nobody should forget the prisoners—whether a politician is in power or not. However, their sufferings should not be exploited for political gains. If you offer hope to someone in a deep ditch, you better throw them a rope. Kashmir relapses into chaos and it is sentiments and emotions that pave the way for it. The bottom line is who is ready to address the pain of the people—the ones who remain forgotten in the darkness of the gallows. Until then, the people of Kashmir will continue to wait as they always have.
(Views expressed are personal)
Fahad Shah is a journalist and editor-in-chief of The Kashmir Walla