When Elections in Kashmir Meant Fear, Not Freedom: Eyewitness to 1999 Poll Irregularities

When elections were held in Kashmir, even senior observers sent by the Election Commission from other states hesitated to move around freely.

In 1999, during the Lok Sabha polls across the six constituencies of Jammu and Kashmir, top IAS officers from Gujarat, Maharashtra, and Bihar were deployed as election observers. I still remember — one woman observer stayed locked inside her Circuit House room throughout, too frightened to step out.

Ranjit Banerjee from Gujarat was posted in Anantnag. On polling day, he toured the interior booths and found widespread irregularities — presiding officers acting openly biased. After polling ended, he sent a detailed report to the Election Commission, recommending that the election in Anantnag be countermanded. I got hold of that report; The Times of India carried it as a lead story the next morning.

Those days, Delhi newspapers would reach Srinagar only by the afternoon flight. By then, the state’s Chief Electoral Officer had already called, furious, calling the report false. But by noon, the Election Commission’s decision came — polling in Anantnag was cancelled.

The then Chief Election Commissioner, M.S. Gill, expressed regret. “It’s unfortunate,” he said, “that the returning officers of Srinagar and Anantnag weren’t IAS officers — just a gardener and a storekeeper, holding IAS posts on own pay and grade basis.”

Former Union Minister and three-time Governor Mohammad Shafi Qureshi, who lived in Sant Nagar, Srinagar, once told me that the Anantnag Returning Officer had initially declared him — the Congress candidate — as the winner, and celebrations had begun. But half an hour later, the officer reversed the result, announcing the National Conference candidate as elected.

Something similar happened in Amira Kadal. Mohammad Salahuddin had actually won, yet the Returning Officer declared the losing candidate victorious. Salahuddin later crossed over to Pakistan through Baramulla — and became a militant.

On polling day in Chadoora, I saw a Major from the Rashtriya Rifles sitting inside a polling booth.

I asked, “Did the Election Commission post you here?”

He replied, “My duty is to bring voters.”

“On whose orders?” I pressed.

As I began taking photographs, the Major panicked — he ran out and quickly ordered his men to leave too.

Driving along the Srinagar–Anantnag highway, I noticed a convoy near Pulwama — an army officer leading a group of elderly men. One of them told me he had fever but had been forcibly taken from his home by soldiers. When I questioned the officer, he admitted quietly, “Polling is very low… the Commission hasn’t ordered this. Please don’t take photos.” Then he too disappeared.

Election rallies were ghostly affairs. Once, Omar Abdullah — himself a candidate — took me to Budgam. Only 28 people turned up to hear him, outnumbered by security personnel. In Srinagar city, people were too afraid to attend campaign meetings. Near the Palladium cinema, I saw a few men in white kurta-pyjamas pretending to be part of the audience. An official whispered, “They’re actually security men — brought in so that Doordarshan cameras can show ‘crowds’ in the news.”

I once travelled to Anantnag to watch Mehbooba Mufti campaign with Mufti Mohammad Sayeed. They moved in a bulletproof Ambassador. A large crowd of women had gathered to welcome her, singing and dancing — comparing her to Indira Gandhi.

Then came the grim part — a BJP candidate was blown up by militants. His remains were found hanging eighty feet up on a chinar tree.

But that was then. In the panchayat and assembly elections that followed years later, people voted freely — in large numbers, without fear or coercion. The air of dread that once gripped Kashmir’s elections finally began to lift.