George Anjay
Dr Anwar’s makeshift clinic, a converted spare bedroom overflowing with medical supplies and a bed shrouded by a red tarpaulin, is situated perilously close to the epicentre of Rawalakot’s unrest in Pakistan-administered Kashmir (PAK). On that makeshift bed lies Shafqat Hussain, his chest tragically pierced by a bullet. The fabric beneath him is already a grim testament to the day’s violence, stained with the blood of others he has treated. Shafqat is fading, his life ebbing away. In the relentless grip of escalating conflict over the past two months, the region, home to approximately 4.5 million people, has witnessed a devastating toll, with dozens killed in violent confrontations between security forces and protesters affiliated with the Joint Awami Action Committee (JAAC). These harrowing events unfold against the backdrop of ongoing elections in the territory. The BBC has secured rare access to Rawalakot, offering a poignant glimpse into the heart of this turbulent uprising.
Dr Anwar, whose name, like many others in this report, has been altered to safeguard their identities, conveys the dire limitations of his clinic: "We have enough supplies for basic first aid. We can staunch bleeding, clean and dress wounds, and extract superficial bullets. However, patients with critical injuries to the chest, abdomen, head, or other vital organs require advanced hospital care." He adds with a weary resignation, "Even major hospitals would be overwhelmed if a large number of such patients arrived simultaneously." Since the 27th of July, Dr Anwar estimates his clinic has treated between 50 and 60 critically injured individuals, with him personally attending to 15 to 20 who sustained gunshot wounds. A palpable fear pervades the community; injured protesters are reluctant to seek treatment at the main hospital, fearing arrest or further violence. Authorities, however, refute these claims, deeming them inaccurate. The doctor observes a disturbing pattern in the casualties: "Most of those killed or seriously injured are young people, ranging from about 15-16 years old to 32-35 years old. I have seen very few patients over the age of 40."
Beside Shafqat’s bedside, his friend Ali weeps, his shawl a conduit for his sorrow. "We only asked for affordable flour, electricity, and our basic rights," he chokes out between sobs. "Instead, our brothers are being killed. What was our crime? Why are live bullets being fired at us?" The JAAC articulates that their demonstrations are a cry for fundamental rights, encompassing issues such as exorbitant electricity prices, inadequate education, and substandard healthcare. A crucial agreement, signed in October with the Pakistan and PAK governments, was intended to address these grievances but, according to the JAAC, remains largely unimplemented. The local government presents a starkly different narrative, asserting that the JAAC is an armed entity intent on disrupting the ongoing electoral process. They have explicitly stated their refusal to permit protesters to march on the regional capital, Muzaffarabad.
The JAAC faced a ban in June, with authorities labelling them as foreign-funded terrorists. This characterisation is vehemently rejected by the group, who maintain their peaceful intentions and insist that while they receive funding from the diaspora community in PAK, they are not sponsored by India. They claim to be the victims of aggression, not the instigators, and accuse Pakistan’s security forces of firing upon them. The imposition of internet restrictions and the blockade or heavy guarding of roads have severely hampered the flow of information.
Upon entering the city, the BBC encountered numerous families who recounted the tragic loss of loved ones during the protests. Asma, her voice trembling with grief, shared her experience of hearing that her only son had been shot while she herself was present at the demonstration. "We were only asking for our rights. We are not terrorists," she asserted, her eyes brimming with tears. "No mother could ask for a better son." She continued, her voice filled with a mother’s enduring pride, "He knew there were risks, but he believed standing up for justice was important. He used to say that dying for a just cause was an honour." Salman, who lost his brother, spoke of the profound void left behind. "He was the youngest in the family and was loved by everyone. It is a great loss for us," he said, his gaze distant. "At the same time, I feel proud that he gave his life while standing up for the rights of the people. He was not fighting or attacking anyone." Ayub, a former member of the armed forces, lost his son and directed his criticism not at the Pakistan government or military, but at the PAK government, holding them responsible for summoning paramilitary forces. "I am a retired soldier. I lived through the martial law periods of General Zia-ul-Haq and General Pervez Musharraf," he stated with deep conviction. "But I have never seen anything like what is happening now. In my opinion, it is extreme injustice." His lament was simple yet profound: "My son had done nothing wrong. None of the protesters had done anything wrong."
The government of Pakistan-administered Kashmir has issued a formal rejection of the allegations that security forces fired indiscriminately on peaceful protesters. They maintain that law enforcement acted only against individuals involved in attacks on security personnel, posing a threat to public safety, or obstructing lawful authority. The BBC observed stark evidence of food shortages, with many protesters pooling their meagre resources. Shops remained shuttered, and anecdotal accounts emerged of efforts to discreetly transport sacks of rice into the city on the backs of motorcycles. Roads leading into Rawalakot were found to be obstructed by felled trees, which authorities attributed to the JAAC. Security checkpoints have been established at other entry points along the main road. The PAK government has countered these observations, asserting that it is untrue to suggest they are impeding the entry of food or medical supplies, and instead claim to be facilitating their passage. The authorities have consistently portrayed the JAAC as a violent organisation, presenting drone footage that they claim depicts JAAC members armed with firearms on rooftops. During press conferences, police officials have exhibited weapons purportedly confiscated from the group, informing local media about the casualties sustained by security officials. They have also presented testimony from an individual under interrogation who allegedly confessed to being promised a reward of 10 million Pakistani Rupees (approximately £26,700) for each paramilitary officer killed.
Umar Nazir, a member of the JAAC’s core committee, currently in Rawalakot, has denied these claims. However, he acknowledged the possibility of security official casualties, stating, "Look, perhaps such deaths did occur – I will not comment on that." He then offered a cautious interpretation: "However, I believe that certain elements, who are under their control, were infiltrated into our ranks. Such people were certainly present among us." Nazir speculated, "I believe they may have carried out such actions themselves in order to justify their own narrative. I am not making a definitive claim, but there is no evidence whatsoever that any such violence came from our side." This assertion of infiltration lacked any supporting evidence, and authorities have accused the JAAC of engaging in a disinformation campaign, particularly on social media. During the JAAC protests attended by the BBC, no weaponry or instances of shooting were observed. However, repeated gunshots were heard throughout the night, with the source and target remaining unclear. The prevailing atmosphere is one of palpable tension and uncertainty, with no indication of when the situation might devolve into further escalation. Nazir stated that the group remains open to dialogue, but for the present, further protests are being planned.
Nakalama John
Ramos Leo
Nana Banana
