On the night of 23–24 February 1991, the 4th Rajputana Rifles unit of the Indian Army received intelligence inputs suggesting the possible presence of militants in Kunan village. Acting on this information, the Army carried out a cordon-and-search operation strictly limited to Kunan village.
After the operation, serious and shocking allegations surfaced, claiming that women from Kunan and Poshpora villages had been raped by Army personnel. These allegations spread rapidly through national and international media and were taken up by several human rights organizations, including the National Human Rights Commission and various state-level bodies.
One of the most puzzling aspects of this incident is the inclusion of Poshpora village in these allegations, despite the fact that the Army operation took place only in Kunan village. As per standard procedure, the Army followed protocol and obtained No Objection Certificates (NOCs) from the villagers after completing the search.
Even if one were to assume, for the sake of argument, that the Army’s version is false, a critical question still remains unanswered: the residents of Poshpora themselves have consistently stated that no Army operation took place in their village that night and that nothing untoward happened there. If this is true, then why was Poshpora included in the reports at all?
This raises a serious concern—was the inclusion of Poshpora a deliberate attempt to create propaganda and malign the image of the Indian Army? There is reason to believe that terrorist elements may have played a psychological warfare strategy, aimed at discrediting the Army and creating mistrust and hatred among the local population. Unfortunately, this narrative did succeed in influencing public opinion to some extent.
Even today, misleading information continues to spread through the internet, falsely claiming that women in Kunan Poshpora observe “Resistance Day” on 23–24 February every year. This claim is not true. The reality on the ground is very different. The local people continue to respect the Indian Army from their hearts, and many acknowledge the Army’s role in maintaining security and stability in the region.
This book urges readers to examine the incident objectively and truthfully, and to question whether such large-scale heinous crimes were even logistically or practically possible during that operation. Its purpose is not to deny suffering, but to separate fact from fiction, challenge false narratives, and give a voice to those who were misrepresented and unheard.
To ensure this examination is grounded in reality and not assumptions, I spent considerable time in Kunan Poshpora conducting on-ground research. I travelled extensively, met local residents, and closely observed village life. Along with my co-author Komal Verma, I walked through almost every lane of the village.
My approach to research was slightly different. Instead of relying only on documents or secondary sources, I chose direct human interaction. I visited individual households, sat with families, shared tea, and spoke to people at length. While it was not possible to have meals with everyone, I did share tea with nearly every family. I mixed freely with the locals, which is why the research took a significant amount of time. Trust takes time, and listening takes patience.
During this process, I encountered the first major myth that had long been associated with the incident—that mass rapes took place in the twin villages of Kunan and Poshpora. According to the local residents themselves, this was not true.
On the night of 23–24 February, there was no cordon-and-search operation (CASO) in Poshpora village at all. When one travels from Trehgam, Poshpora comes first, followed by Kunan. However, that night, only Kunan village was under CASO. This was not my personal claim alone; the people of both villages stated this very clearly.
This information came as a shock to me. Everything I had read earlier—reports, articles, and references—consistently mentioned “Kunan Poshpora” together. Curious and concerned, I conducted further research and began to question why Poshpora’s name was linked to an operation that reportedly did not take place there.
Another commonly held belief is that people in Kunan still harbour deep hatred towards the Indian Army. My observations on the ground did not support this narrative. I personally visited a skill development centre in Kunan village run by the Indian Army for local women. More importantly, I did not sense hostility or fear. In fact, locals often held my hand and invited me for tea.
During one of my visits, heavy snowfall began. The villagers immediately invited Komal and me inside the mosque, where we sat in the hamam to keep warm. We stayed there peacefully and comfortably, without any difficulty or tension. Such moments revealed a reality that is rarely discussed.
Before presenting my analysis, I believe some serious questions deserve reflection:
- If the CASO took place only in Kunan village, why was Poshpora’s name officially attached to the incident?
- If, as claimed, 23 to 100 women were assaulted that night, and all the men of the village were gathered at one place, how is it possible that—despite cries and chaos—no physical confrontation occurred between approximately 500–600 village men and only around 125 soldiers?
- Why was there no hand-to-hand fight, no resistance, and no casualties at all—neither among civilians nor security forces?
- In a situation of such magnitude, would it be reasonable to believe that not a single bullet was fired, even in self-defence?
These are not accusations. These are questions arising from ground realities, local testimonies, and logical examination. Any incident of such seriousness demands scrutiny based on facts, timelines, human behaviour, and evidence, not assumptions or repeated narratives.
My intent is not to dismiss suffering, but to separate perception from reality, and to encourage an honest, evidence-based understanding of one of the most debated incidents in recent history.
Another important aspect that needs careful understanding is the actual deployment of troops in the village that night.
There were approximately 125 soldiers, but they were not present together at one place. They were divided into different companies and roles:
- Alpha Company: 16 soldiers
- Bravo Company: 28 soldiers
- Charlie Company: 22 soldiers
- Delta Company: 32 soldiers
- 68 Mountain Brigade (MTN BDE): 16 soldiers
In addition, the officer strength included:
- 1 Commanding Officer (CO)
- 4 Majors
- 2 Captains
- 2 Lieutenants
- 1 Regimental Medical Officer (RMO)
The companies were led by:
- Major ***** – Alpha Company
- Major ****** – Bravo Company
- Lt. ******* – Charlie Company
- Major ******** – Delta Company
According to the book “Do You Remember Kunan Poshpora?”, Alpha and Delta Companies were deployed in the outer cordon. This means:
- Alpha Company: 16 soldiers
- Delta Company: 32 soldiers
- Along with two Major-rank officers
So, 48 soldiers + 2 officers = 50 personnel were stationed outside the village, forming the outer cordon.
The same source mentions that the interrogation room had 4 soldiers and 1 Captain, making a total of 5 personnel.
It is also reasonable to assume that when all village men were called out and gathered at one place, there would be soldiers assigned to manage and guard them. Even conservatively, this number would be at least 10 soldiers.
So far, the deployment looks like this:
- Outer cordon: 50
- Interrogation room: 5
- Guarding and gathering village men: ~10
That already accounts for around 65 soldiers.
Further, villagers themselves stated that the Commanding Officer (CO) was present in the village. A CO never moves alone. He would be accompanied by:
- A security team – Quick Reaction Team (QRT)
- The Regimental Medical Officer (RMO)
This would reasonably involve around 8 soldiers + CO + RMO, bringing the total to approximately 10 more personnel.
At this point:
- 65 + 10 = 75 soldiers are already accounted for.
This leaves only about 50 soldiers who were actually conducting the search operation inside the village.
Now, when allegations suggest—based on SHRC reports or the book “Do You Remember Kunan Poshpora?”—that 10 soldiers assaulted a single woman, the numbers begin to raise serious questions. When we carefully examine the actual deployment and division of forces, such claims do not appear practically possible.
Another question that logically arises is this:
Is it reasonable to believe that a Commanding Officer would bring an RMO along to participate in sexual crimes? The answer is clearly no.
More importantly, how could 50–60 soldiers overpower 500–600 village men without:
- Any physical confrontation
- Any bullet being fired
- Any injury or casualty on either side
In a situation involving alleged mass violence of this scale, some form of resistance, firing, or casualties would be inevitable. Yet, none were reported—neither among civilians nor among the soldiers.
These are not mere questions. These are points that demand serious thought.
And finally, if no CASO took place in Poshpora at all, then why was Poshpora’s name officially linked to the incident?
Understanding incidents of such gravity requires logic, verified facts, troop deployment analysis, and human behavioural patterns, not repetition of narratives without scrutiny. Only then can we move closer to truth rather than perception.
During the course of my research, many of these questions were answered directly by the local residents themselves. According to them, the background of the incident cannot be understood without looking at the political situation of that time.
The villagers explained that after the execution of Maqbool Bhat in 1984, the JKLF was gradually losing public support. People were beginning to distance themselves from the organization. In this context, they believe that a deliberate narrative was created—one that could revive anger against the Indian Army and reignite hostility in the minds of the people.
According to local accounts, the people of Kunan Poshpora were used as a tool to defame the Army and to once again internationalize the Kashmir issue. This belief was repeatedly expressed during my interactions with villagers.
The reason I say that hatred against the Army was being consciously fuelled is based on a series of events that raise serious concerns. For instance, is it merely a coincidence that S.M. Yasin wrote a letter to Wajahat Habibullah, and that the contents of this letter were later leaked to the media? Soon after, the number of alleged victims increased significantly.
Another point that requires attention is the timeline:
- The incident is said to have occurred on 23–24 February.
- S.M. Yasin reportedly visited the village only on 5 March, a gap of several days.
- Despite this delay, allegations were rapidly formalized and publicized.
- On 27 February, villagers reportedly named the same Army personnel involved in the operation.
Instead of a neutral and impartial investigation, direct allegations were made against the Army from the very beginning. This approach itself raises questions. If such a grave crime had occurred, why was there no immediate confrontation between villagers and soldiers? How is it possible that no clash took place, no resistance occurred, and no injuries or casualties were reported on either side?
These are not emotional questions; they are logical inconsistencies.
During my research, I arrived at a critical finding after studying multiple reports, testimonies, and timelines. My conclusion is that sexual assaults did occur, but they were not committed by Army personnel. According to several local accounts, after the Army lifted the outer cordon, militants entered some houses and committed these crimes.
It is important to remember that during that period, militants often wore camouflage uniforms similar to those of the Army. In the darkness, fear, and confusion of the night, misidentification was possible, and this confusion later solidified into a narrative that blamed the Army.
After carefully reading and analyzing all available reports, my research leads me to conclude that Kunan Poshpora was projected as a manufactured propaganda case—a deliberate and well-planned attempt to malign the Indian Army.
What is even more concerning is that many human rights organizations relied on secondary references, often quoting each other, instead of conducting independent, neutral, and transparent investigations. The narrative was built by repetition, not verification.
Wearing an Army uniform does not automatically strip a person of the right to present facts or defend themselves. Nor does it give anyone the moral authority to deliver verdicts by listening to only one side of the story. Justice demands balance, evidence, and neutrality—not conclusions formed in advance. The Qazigund incident of 16 July 2025, in which Zahid Ahmad Banday, a soon-to-be groom, was killed by a criminal impersonating security forces while wearing an Army-style uniform, clearly demonstrates how uniforms can be misused and how identity and intent cannot be judged by appearance alone.
This is not about denial or justification. It is about truth, accountability, and intellectual honesty—values that must guide any serious inquiry into incidents of such gravity. When even an Army uniform can be exploited to deceive civilians, as seen in the Qazigund case, it becomes essential to rely on verified facts, corroborated evidence, and due process rather than emotion, assumptions, or one-sided narratives.
I would sincerely urge everyone to read the book “Why Kunan Poshpora?” Book.
( https://www.amazon.in/dp/B0FH5CKBDT ) (https://www.sabreandquill.com/products/why-kunan-poshpora/5197527000002101005 )
For anyone seeking a serious and informed understanding of the incident, the book Why Kunan Poshpora? is essential reading. The book does not rely on opinion alone; it carefully examines all available official records, including State Human Rights Commission (SHRC) findings, along with other government documents, reports, and timelines. By placing these official records alongside on-ground field research and local testimonies, the book allows readers to assess the incident with clarity, context, and balance.
What makes this book genuinely authentic is the process behind it. Before publication, the entire manuscript was taken back to the village and verified by the some local residents themselves. Their feedback, corrections, and confirmations were carefully considered. Only after this ground-level verification was the book finalized.
This step is crucial. It ensures that the narrative is not imposed from outside, but is rooted in local voices, lived experiences, and factual cross-checking. In an issue where assumptions and second-hand references have dominated public discourse for decades, such verification adds credibility, responsibility, and transparency.
“Why Kunan Poshpora?” is not just a book—it is an effort to replace repeated narratives with evidence, context, and on-ground truth. Anyone seeking a serious, balanced, and informed understanding of the subject should read it with an open mind.
Truth demands patience, verification, and courage—and this book makes that effort.
Jai Hind-
