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Shaheed Umer Qayoom Bhat, Malik Sahib Soura, Srinagar (2026)

17/02/2026

POV: When power asks for time, the system bends.
When a common citizen asks for justice, the system delays.😥😥
On 04-11-2025, the Chief Judicial Magistrate clearly directed the police to complete the investigation within six weeks.
The court even warned of action under Section 187 IPC and Section 345 CrPC, and possible contempt proceedings if they fail to comply.
Yet the case keeps getting adjourned for “formal hearing,” with the next date now 11-04-2026.
Today I reached the court on time, carrying hope once again.
The judge was on leave.
Another date. Another delay. Another wound reopened.
When authorities ask for time, they are granted months.
When a common person asks for justice, they are made to wait for years.
They don’t just delay justice.
They exhaust families.
They test patience.
They break hearts slowly.
And the hardest truth?
You stand alone in the courtroom.
No one stands beside you.
No one offers support.
No one asks if you need help.
Is this justice — or protection of uniform?

30/12/2025

Today, I truly understood the real meaning of mental torture.
This phase of life has brought countless heartbreaks,
but this one… this one is deeply personal.
It’s the kind of pain you carry silently,
the kind that no words can fully explain.
Some wounds don’t bleed,
yet they ache every moment.
Some injustices leave no marks,
yet they break you from within.
Ya Allah, You see what hearts carry when lips stay silent.
Heal our wounded hearts.
Grant us sabr that doesn’t shake,
strength that doesn’t fade,
and faith that holds us together when everything feels heavy.

They killed…
yet they are not answerable.
They broke us into tears.
They broke us from inside—in ways no one can see.
And now, they continue the cruelty by mentally torturing us,
by recalling incidents that shake our souls to the core.
This is not questioning.
This is mental harassment.
This is mental torture.
It feels like reopening wounds that never healed,
wounds that still feel as fresh as the first day.
It feels like burying our son, our brother, all over again—
the one we lost during the 2010 unrest killings.
How cruel must a system be
to keep dragging grieving hearts back to the grave
again and again?
This world feels unbearably insensitive—
where those who seek justice are broken repeatedly,
where power believes it can summon pain anytime,
ask anything anytime,
and expect silence in return.
But know this:
Allah sees every tear that falls in silence.
Allah hears the cries that never reach the world.
And Allah is the Best Judge.
Ya Allah, heal our hearts.
Grant us sabr, strength, and dignity.
Give us justice in this world or the next—
for in Akhirah, no uniform, no power, no authority will hide.
Ameen. 🤍

13/12/2025

RIP JUSTICE | A DAY IN KASHMIR’S COURTS

So today was supposed to be our formal final hearing.
A case that has been dragged since 2010.
A case where a 17-year-old boy, Umar Qayoom, was allegedly picked up, tortured, and died in custody.
A case where the court itself has repeatedly passed strict orders.
A case where the CJM clearly warned of contempt of court if reports were not submitted.

And yet—here we are.

I reached the court at 10:00 am, carrying a heart shattered by the loss of my uncle just four days ago, along with the grief of losing my brother that never leaves me.
I entered Court Room No. 14 hoping—foolishly—that today might bring accountability.

At 12:39 pm, our case was called.
The SDPO was absent.
I was told to wait.
“After lunch.”

After lunch, I waited.
And waited.
And waited.

The judge never came out.

At 4:05 pm, the SDPO finally arrived—
not with urgency,
not with shame,
not with an answer.

He walked straight into the judge’s chamber.
Tea.
Snacks.
Casual conversation.
Comfort.

At 4:30 pm, he walked out—
with swagger,
with ease,
with the confidence of someone who knows the system bends for him.

And me?
I stood there from 10 am to 5 pm, only to be told that the case is “still pending” and they “need more time.”

Six months more.

Isn’t this insanity?

I came with grief piled upon grief.
They came with snacks and convenience.
My pain had no seat in that room.
Their comfort did.

This is the so-called justice system of Kashmir,
where commoners suffer endlessly,
and people in uniform are never answerable.

This is the so-called court
where strict orders mean nothing,
where contempt of court exists only on paper,
where deadlines are jokes,
and accountability is optional.

Custodial killings become “files.”
Files become delays.
Delays become years.
And years become silence.

Today proved one thing clearly:
Justice here is not delayed — it is deliberately denied.

Orders can be rewritten.
Deadlines can be extended.
Pain can be ignored.
All for the convenience of power.

This is not governance.
This is not law.
This is a sold-out system,
where truth waits outside the door
while privilege is served tea inside.

So yes—
RIP to the justice system in Kashmir.
RIP to courts that protect power instead of people.

History will remember this silence.
And Allah will judge what these courts refuse to.
Court is sold out
Justice is sold out
everything is sold out

08/12/2025

Words still fail me when I try to speak about you, Zahoor Baijaan

I remember the day my brother Umer was breathing his last… and you stood there in the ICU, full of hope, whispering that he would breathe again. In that chaos, when Umer took his final breath, you were the one who noticed the police officials trying to change the cause of death to “natural death.”
You faced them.
You shouted at the doctors.
You made them correct the death summary.
You laid the foundation of Justice for Umer Qayoom.

You cried like you had lost your own son—because Umer was not just your nephew, he was like your child.
You taught him Urdu calligraphy.
You helped me write letters and applications for Baya’s case.
You always encouraged me, praised me, stood by me, telling me you were proud that I was fighting for my brother, for our martyred Umer.

Every time I went for a court hearing on my scooty, you would look at me with pride… as if saying, “You are the voice of Umer.”

And then… 7th December came.
A day that shattered us again.

I got a call from Mumma—“Zahoor Baijan is in the ICU.”
I ran with hope.
I begged Allah not to repeat the pain we lived through with Umer.
I entered the same ICU where I once heard the beep-beep of machines around my brother… but this time I held on to hope. I believed I would take my uncle home safely.

But fate had other plans.
A massive heart attack took you away from us.
Losing you was the biggest shock for the entire Bhat family—especially for us. You were our pillar, our strength, our support in Umer’s case, in every matter, in every hardship.

Just days before, with so much excitement, you wrote my “Saat Nama.”
You wrote my name on the prayer mat for my marriage.
You were dreaming and preparing for my big day…
and none of us imagined you would leave us like this.

I remember when your son was born—you said,
“This is your Umer now. Love him like your brother. Treat him like Umer. He is your Umer.”
How do I tell that child—just 13 years old—that his father is no more?
How do I explain this sudden loss to him?
Losing a father is the biggest heartbreak a child can face.

You will be remembered, Baijan—every single day.
Every time we step out of home and look at the gate, we will see you standing there with colors and pens in your hands, working on your artistic boards.
Your presence is still here, and so is the ache.

My marriage is coming… and I will miss you and my brother the most.
Two empty spaces that nothing and no one can ever fill.

Zahoor Baijan…
We still cannot accept it.
May Allah grant you the highest rank in Jannah.
Ameen.

This picture of you with my brother breaks me—both of you gone, both of you missed beyond words.

You will live in our hearts, always.

08/11/2025

🕊️ Justice Delayed is Justice Denied 🕊️

It has been 15 long years since 17-year-old Umer Qayoom lost his life in August 2010 after alleged torture in police custody. We have been walking the road to justice ever since — visiting courts, facing delays, hearing excuses, and carrying the same wound every single day.

This week, the Chief Judicial Magistrate, Srinagar, issued a strong order that once again exposes the systemic failure and apathy in this case. The court has directed the SSP Srinagar and the Investigating Officer to complete the investigation within six weeks and file the final report.

The order calls out years of institutional neglect and administrative inaction, stating that such delays undermine public trust and violate the constitutional Right to Life under Article 21.
It’s a reminder that when justice is delayed, it becomes another form of denial.

For me, every hearing is not just a date — it’s a reminder of a life stolen too soon, of truth buried under files, and of a system that forgot what accountability means. Yet, I continue to fight — with patience, courage, and faith.

🕯️ Order Date: 4 November 2025
⚖️ Next Hearing: 12 December 2025

Justice must not only be done — it must be done in time.
Because when power goes unchecked, and lives are lost without accountability, silence is no longer an option.

29/10/2025

🚨 Important Update Regarding Umer Qayoom’s Case

As Umer Qayoom’s sister, it is my moral duty and responsibility to keep everyone informed about any developments in my brother’s case. Transparency is something I have always believed in, and today I am sharing this with a heavy heart.

Recently, a shocking incident came to light. A woman—disguised in a burkha—approached certain political leaders to seek financial assistance using my brother Umer’s name. This deceitful act was done purely for personal gain.

We were informed about this when a personal assistant from a political office came to our home to verify the situation. Our entire family was stunned and heartbroken to learn that someone could misuse a martyr’s name for money.

Using the name of someone who sacrificed his life is deeply disrespectful and shameful. And as a woman, it is even more painful to see another woman stoop so low. Imagine if it were your brother or son—could you bear to see their sacrifice being turned into a means for financial gain?

We, Umer’s family, have never and will never seek or accept any money in his name.
Even when authorities and police offered financial help, we declined every time.
Because no amount of money can ever compensate for the loss of a life.

Our father raised us with dignity and strength. Even after losing his son, he ensured that we—his daughters—stood tall, independent, and principled. Whatever we are today is because of his courage and values.

So, to all those who say:

> “Arey, beta shaheed hua, ab uske naam se paisa le rahe hain,”

Let me make this absolutely clear:
👉 We have never taken a single penny from any government office, fund, or department in the name of Umer.
👉 We strongly condemn anyone using his name for personal benefit.
👉 We will not tolerate anyone disrespecting his sacrifice.

I, Urzeeba Qayoom, am taking a stand against this.
And I request everyone reading this to stand with me.

If you come across anyone using Umer Qayoom’s name for money or favors, please inform me immediately. You have my email — reach out.
Even if it has happened in the past, please share details with me.

My brother’s name is sacred.
We are not fighting for money — we are fighting for justice and accountability.
Please stop misusing his name.

Let’s honor his memory the right way. 💔

18/10/2025

Court Update | 16th & 17th October

On 16th October, I reached the court premises sharp at 10:00 a.m., full of hope that maybe today our case would finally move forward. But as always, things didn’t go as expected.
I saw our case listed as Serial No. 57 on the notice board. From 10 to 12:40, cases were called one by one, and when finally our number came up — the SDPO was absent. The court instructed him to appear after lunch, so I waited patiently, the whole day.
Even by 4:00 p.m., he didn’t show up. Instead, someone from his office came to ask for “more time.” The judge directed that the case remains open and adjourned it to 17th October.
Another day wasted. Another day of shattered hope.

On 17th October, I reached again at 9:45 a.m., determined not to miss anything. The courtroom was empty — only victims and culprits waiting. Hours passed. At 12:30, the judge again inquired about the SDPO’s presence, and once more we were told, he will come after lunch.

Finally, at 3:10 p.m., he arrived with some officials. They presented the file and requested two more months to “complete the investigation.” I reminded the court that this FIR was registered in 2018, and even back then they were given 42 days to produce the challan. Now it’s 2025, and still — no challan, no justice, only delays.

The judge asked me to return after three days to hear the order.
I stood there, helpless, fighting tears. I’ve tried to stay strong all these years, but every time I face police officials, my heart races and I struggle to hold back the panic.

This was just a formal hearing for everyone else — a common case among many.
But for me, it was hope, it was the broken heart that carries the memories of my brother, it was the fight to stay strong when everything inside me feels shattered.

They took just two days of hearings.
But now, I know I’ll be emotionally drained for days, maybe months.
Because healing takes time — and with each hearing, I gather courage before it, but lose a part of myself after it. The exhaustion, the waiting, the silence — it breaks me every time.
Yet I remind myself again — Allah is the best of planners.

I don’t know how many more days, hearings, or moments it will take for things to finally normalize.
But I still choose faith over fear, and hope over despair.
Because justice might be delayed, but truth never dies.

16/09/2025

Hearing Update – 16 September 2025

Today’s hearing was both formal and deeply emotional.

Counsel for the complainant was present. The SHO of Police Station Soura appeared with the CD file, which was perused and then returned. The SHO requested three months’ time to file the final report. The matter has now been listed for further proceedings, and the next date of hearing has been fixed for 16 October 2025.

Although our case was listed at serial number 53, we were suddenly called after number 6. I had to rush my lawyer to attend quickly. When the SHO entered and submitted the file before the judge, my hands began to tremble. Each time I see police officials, I am reminded of how they took my brother away and have never been held answerable.

At that moment, I lost all strength and broke down in tears. It was unbearable to endure the SHO’s cold stare, a reminder of the injustice we continue to face.

Another date has now been given, but my fight will not stop until justice is served for my brother.

15/09/2025

Tomorrow is our hearing.

My last update was about the hearing on 9th September, where the SDPO was absent, and the court scheduled a new hearing for 16th September. This time, the court has directed that:

Counsel for the applicant will be present.

APP will be present.

The concerned SDPO, along with the CD file, must remain present.

This is a formal hearing, and once again I find myself hopeful that tomorrow brings a step closer to justice for Umer Qayoom.

I also know, deep inside, that there are chances they may not appear again, and another date may be given. Yet, I continue to hope. Hope that one day justice will not be denied. Hope that one day they will feel the weight of what they have done. Hope that one day, truth and accountability will prevail.

Let us keep sharing, let us keep raising our voices — because justice delayed should not mean justice denied.

Shaheed Umer Qayoom Bhat

17/02/2026

30/12/2025

13/12/2025

08/12/2025

08/11/2025

29/10/2025

18/10/2025

16/09/2025

15/09/2025

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