32 bullets, he took ‘em all, to shield others from unrelenting guns

Abdur Rauf Wani (24) 

 It was the morning of January 21, 1990. The sun came up without much sparkle but it shone on young Rauf’s face for the last time. For, by noon, he was lying on the ground in his favourite blue jacket and green shoes, his body pierced by a hail of troopers’ bullets.

And, two decades later, his family and those who saw him getting killed along with 52 other peaceful protesters in Kashmir’s first massacre since the armed rebellion broke out in 1989 against the Indian rule, try to look back on the event that gave birth to a generation of angry youngmen, a violent uprising and a separatist sentiment never seen before in Kashmir.

On that fateful morning, Abdur Rauf Wani (24) and his father G A Wani, a government employee, watched from the window a huge but peaceful procession passing through Maharaja Bazar, triggered by the news of molestation of women in the old city, strict curfews and restrictions. It was also just a day after New Delhi appointed Jagmohan as J-K Governor in a bid to control mass protests by Kashmiris.

In the street below, men in thousands raised their fists, with slogans ‘Hum Kya Chahte… Azadi’ (We Want Freedom) renting the air. Nothing unusual, as people had grown used to these reminders. But Rauf, unable to contain the surge of emotions within, turned to his father and what followed was a little “more unusual”. “Bauji, this’ll be now begairti (disgrace), should we not join now,” Zulehama Banday, Rauf’s older sister recalls his brother’s conversation with dad. The senior Wani looked back, waited for a moment and then nodded his head. “Should I go,” Rauf again insisted. “Yes,” his father replied.

Zulehama says it was the first time that the family had okayed Rouf’s request to join the peaceful protests. Rauf was soon away, smashing a flower vase in hurry. He stumbled but got up immediately. He performed ablutions, fixed the shoe laces, adjusted his jeans and slid both arms in the blue jacket that he had slung on his right shoulder till then.

Onto the road. “A neighbour tried to stop him but he wouldn’t,” recalls Zulehama, who by now had joined her father at the window to see Rauf disappear in a swarm of youngmen. The long strip of rally that begun from Jawahar Nagar and Ikhrajpora, Rajbagh to reach Budshah Chowk. Earlier proposed to stopover outside UNO at Sonawar, people in the front decided to drum up more support from inner city. The crowd swerved towards Maisuma that would lead demonstrators to inner city till it reached Gaw Kadal Bridge over the Jhelum.When the front-liners of crowd were halfway across the Gaw Kadal, the paramilitary Central Reserve Police Force (CRPF) opened fire with automatic machine guns from three directions. In the next few minutes, the bridge with littered with corpses and blood. The first day of Governor Jagmohan’s rule would pass in the bloodshed.

Muhammad Altaf Qureshi (50) remembers how the march was stopped with automatic machine guns and how a fearless youngman braved bullets from an unremitting gun nozzle. “Without any provocation and warning, they fired on us,” he recalls. Qureshi, who was in the third row, says the sounds of unrelenting gunfire triggered a stampede on the wooden bridge. The charge pushed him on the deck and soon blood-stained bodies were dotting the spot. Whosoever tried to stand on his legs would be fired upon. In this melee of bullets and screams, Qureshi noticed a youngman getting up, pushing aside with his hands both the dead and alive. “A trooper was showering bullets from a short distance and this youngman shielded people by blocking troopers’ view,” Qureshi recalls. “He took all the bullets on his chest.” The youngster was none other than Rauf. Troopers with faces masked had emptied their carbines by puncturing Rauf’s abdomen and chest. The act of bravery saved scores from getting killed. Rauf finally collapsed, his face upwards; blood painting his blue jacket and green shoes with red. Qureshi watched silently. He was motionless.

The crowd had dispersed. ‘Mayhem’, ‘Massacre’, ‘God’ were the cries he heard from the receding crowd. On the bridge, troops were leaping on the corpses, kicking survivors and finishing them off. Qureshi pretended dead, hiding his face under someone’s blood-splattered torso. “I preferred to lie with the bodies, knowing for sure I will be shot if I stirred. I closed my eyes and remembered Allah and recited Kalima without letting a sound come out,” he recalls. Then the image of his three-month-old daughter flashed in his mind. He soon heard policemen speak in Kashmiri, shouting loud if someone was alive. “For a while I pretended dead,” he says. As if mere sack of flesh, blood and bones, the scene had deadened his body. He was picked up by a cop of J&K Police who inquired if he was alright. He saw policemen heave the bodies into a truck, over a tarpaulin and disappear from the spot. “I was taken to a nearby fire station, from where I called up my home. They were waiting for my corpse after a friend and survivor told them about the massacre,” recalls Qureshi.

The news travelled to home faster than the body of Rauf. Zulehama, the other siblings and father panicked. Rauf had wished martyrdom when a funeral procession passed by the family’s house months back. Zulehama watched their elder brother Parvez Wani readying for Police Control Room (PCR), Batamaloo, where the injured and dead were taken. At PCR gate Parvez struggled hard to enter the premises, as relatives of victims had already started to pour in.

Back home, Rauf’s father was restless. He had allowed his son join the peaceful march. A sense of guilt had overtaken him. Others in the family were crying and consoling each other, assuming Rauf might have swum the river below the wooden bridge. Or he must have stayed at someone’s house. “We were not sure, however,” Zulehama says. But at PCR, Parvez was face-to-face with reality: he was handed the bullet-ridden body of his brother. Thirty two holes, he counted, had punctured Rauf – the highest number of bullets fired on anyone in the rally. “And when the body reached our home…everyone……” Zulehama is unable to continue. It was not for the first time that he had risked his life to save others.

In 1984, Rauf risked his life to save a Sikh laborer who was shot on head while he was lacing his shoes in the street. Family members say that the labourer had cried for help, and when others in the neighbourhood shut their doors and windows, Rauf rushed out and took him to the nearby hospital. “He was 18 then,” Zulehama says. Three years later, in 1987, Rauf along with hundreds of youth was dragged to jail for supporting a political party Muslim United Front (MUF). Rauf was bundled into the notorious PAPA-2 interrogation chamber for 21 days.

Zulehama also remembers how young Rauf would shift a mound of sand outside a neighbour’s house making way for guests during a marriage. Rauf was laid to rest at a graveyard in Sarai Bala, besides Dastageer Sahib Shrine. Soon after, the family sold their property and moved to another locality. And in 2006, Rauf was posthumously honoured with Robert Thorpe award.

Zulehama knows police had registered a case which was, however, closed in 2005 and those involved in Kashmir’s first massacre were declared untraceable. But when I ask her what does she think and if she wants the case reopened, her silence is coupled with soaked eyes. For a moment she speaks nothing. Then she says: “Yes. It must be.” “When I think of my brother,” she says, “the thoughts are not just of the wonderful time we shared. It is of the brutal way in which he was killed, the irrationality of the act, and ultimately, the offenders and the Indian justice system.”

By Baba Umar ( journalist from Kashmir)

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Gaw Kadal Massacre "I saw a dog eating a human arm"

Jagmohan was appointed on January 19, 1990. That night, in response to the kidnapping of Rubaiya Sayeed and other militant attacks, Indian security forces conducted warrantless and thus illegal house-to-house searches in Srinagar, hunting for illegal weapons or other evidence of support to the militants. They dragged many people out of their beds into the bitter cold. Many Kashmiris complained that they were beaten and abused.Jagmohan maintains that he had nothing to do with the decision.

The next morning, as word of the searches and beatings began to spread, people began to pour out into the streets of Srinagar. From the mosques, loudspeakers urged Kashmiris to come out and fight for azaadi, or freedom. Thousands of Kashmiris gathered to protest the actions of the security forces.

The state government declared a curfew, but few if any Kashmiris observed it.It was early evening when one group of marchers reached the Gaw Kadal Bridge on Srinagar's JhelumRiver. They were shouting slogans and some were pelting the soldiers with stones. Troops from the Central Reserve Police Force (CRPF) opened fire into the crowd. Eyewitnesses say the shooting was a brutal and excessive use of lethal force against demonstrators. Many demonstrators were shot from behind as they turned to run away.Kashmiri news photographer Meraj-ud-din described the scene:

"When I reached Gaw Kadal, all I could see were the dead. I saw bodies of children, bodies of women, bodies of men.... Later they brought the bodies to the police compound. I saw them again. There I cried. I shouted, screamed. 'Don't do this to the people.' That day I saw everything."

Human Rights Watch, in its 1991 report on the shootings, criticized the killings and concluded that the use of lethal force was not proportional to the threat.

At least thirty-five people died. Many estimates put the toll near one hundred. Until then, this was the highest number of persons killed on a single day since the violence erupted in Jammuand Kashmir.The killings drew international attention. The London based daily,the Independent, carried an interview with one of the survivors, a thirty-eight-year-old mechanical engineer called Farooq Ahmad, who worked for the government:

"I was just standing watching the procession of Muslims demonstrating against India. It was curfew time and there were CRPF on both sides of the lane. They should have given a warning, telling people to go back to their rooms. But there was no warning, so people thought the procession was allowed. Then there were two shots in the air, and more shots, shots and shots – people were falling down. I also fell down. Someone pushed me down. The CRPF took control of the area. There were a lot of dead and injured. But I was safe, no bullet. Then came somebody, they said I was still alive, and that fellow, an officer, came with a Bren gun, a light machine gun. He aimed at me and started firing." 

Farooq Ahmad survived. But few in Jammu and Kashmir have forgotten that incident. Human Rights Watch recently met with an eyewitness who recalled the events at Gaw Kadal.

"I remember that scene perfectly. There were so many people. I remember thinking that all of Srinagar must be out on the streets. They were shouting slogans and calling for freedom. There was a CRPF bunker just near the bridge. Suddenly the soldiers opened fire. It was machine-gun fire and all I could hear is the rat-a-tat sound. At that time, we were not used to the sound of firing like we are today. I think everyone was shocked. No one had expected the troops to start firing. Soon, there were people falling down all over the place. I remember the man standing next to me saying, 'I know I have been shot but I can't feel anything.' I looked at him. And then I saw his foot. There was a bullet stuck inside his shoe... All around people were groaning with pain. Everyone that could ran away. I stayed where I was in case they fired at me. I stood there for many hours. Finally, the police brought trucks and started taking the dead and wounded away. But they had been lying there for many hours before the trucks came. I remember that there were dogs sniffing at the bodies. I will never forget one sight. I saw a dog eating a human arm."

The shooting at Gaw Kadal Bridge and the way the Indian government responded may have been the turning point in the rebellion. As Human Rights Watch said in a May 1991 report, "In the weeks that followed as security forces fired on crowds of marchers and as militants intensified their attacks against the police and those suspected of aiding them, Kashmir's civil war began in earnest".Almost every day there were protests. Teachers, students, and government employees came out into the streets shouting slogans. At the same time, there were increased attacks from militants, now with a religious dimension. Hindu Kashmiris, called pandits, came under attack. Many were abducted or killed. Many received anonymous notes that were threatening and abusive.Thousands of pandits began to flee the Muslim-majority Kashmir valley, relocating to squalid camps in Jammu and Delhi. At least three hundred thousand Kashmiri Hindus still remain displaced.

The state administration, led by Jagmohan, sought to end the militancy and the mass protests through the increased use of force. Government forces fired live ammunition on crowds of unarmed demonstrators.Round-the-clock curfews were imposed for days in major towns to prevent protests.Paramilitary troops conducted large-scale searches, called "crackdowns" in Jammu and Kashmir. Residents were forced to gather outside while troops ransacked their belongings, looking for hidden weapons. Informers, in hoods, identified alleged militants to be taken into custody, who were then often tortured and sometimes killed.

No known action was taken against any CRPF officials who ordered their forces to open fire at Gaw Kadal, or against the officers present during the shooting. No public inquiry was ordered into the incident.The police did file complaints against demonstrators who pelted stones at security forces, but they were not investigated. Without an investigation into what exactly happened in Gaw Kadal, there will be no chance of holding those responsible accountable.

The consequences of Gawkadal and the failure to hold the security forces accountable have been far reaching. Many young Kashmiris began to join the militants, whose popularity shot up. One man told Human Rights Watch that he and other parents watched helplessly as their sons enlisted with the militants: "Boys, as young as fourteen or fifteen, crossed the border and came back with guns. No one could stop them."

"Gaw Kadal remains an emotional and sentimental subject for Kashmiris even today".

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1993 Sopore Massacre

January 6 : In occupied Kashmir, massacre in Sopore town 18 years back, when the apple town witnessed the worst incident of arson at the hands of troopers of Border Security Forces leading to death of 57 people, a dozen of them roasted alive, besides reducing 350 shops and residential houses to rubble and ashes on 6 January, 1993.

The ‘Time’ magazine had titled the news report (on January 18, 1993) “Blood tide rising: Indian forces carry out one of the worst massacres in Kashmir’s history.” The publication described the massacre, and the protests that ensued thus: “Perhaps there is a special corner in hell reserved for troopers who fire their weapons indiscriminately into a crowd of unarmed civilians. That, at least, must have been the hope

of every resident who defied an army-enforced curfew in the Kashmiri town of Sopore to protest a massacre that left 55 people dead and scores injured.”

The memories of the bloodiest of the massacres carried against the civilian population in Valley remains fresh in hearts and minds of the people particularly denizens of the apple town even after eighteen years.

It was the chilly morning of January 6, 1993 when mujahideen attacked the BSF men at Baba Younis Lane near the Sopore town’s main street, killing two of them. The mujahideen also took away the rifles of the slain BSF men. The personnel after the shootout went berserk and opened indiscriminate fire on unarmed civilians and set on fire markets and Women’s Degree College near chowk of the town.

The local residents regard the incident as one of the worst massacres in the history of Kashmir. Abdul Rashid, an eyewitness while recalling the massacre said it was around 1030 hours on the fateful day when BSF personnel fired indiscriminately and carried out arson in the apple town.

“I still remember that BSF personnel intercepted a bus from Bandipore near Sopore and set it ablaze.” Fifteen persons were charred alive. “I along with nine other persons had taken refuge in a shop and there was destruction across Sopore. I still remember that corpses were scattered and police was watching helplessly,” he said.

Some 15 civilians who tried to rescue their brethren were also shot dead by the BSF personnel, said Abdul Majid, a survivor. Ghulam Nabi Butt of New Light Hotel shouldered 11 dead bodies and before he could carry the 12th, he too was shot dead. “I cannot forget that horrendous incident till I am alive; the troops were on rampage; I lost two relatives in the incident,” said an eyewitness and survivor of the carnage. “I wonder how can doomsday be worse,” said a resident.

As per the locals, BSF personnel sprinkled petrol and gun powder on all structure to set about 350 shops on fire,” said an eywitness, Ghulam Nabi. Recalling the horror at the hospital, an employee at local hospital said, “We could not rush outside as BSF personnel killed several persons who rushed the injured for treatment.”

“The massacre would haunt us as long as we are alive,” said Muhammad Abbas of Sopore.

The locals said that people searched the debris for bodies for next three days. The incident sends shock waves across the Kashmir valley and people protested for many days continuously. The martyred were later identified as Mohammad Maqbool Dar son of Karim Dar, Abdul Ahad Laloo son-in-law Razaq, Abdul Ahad Kanjwaal (85) of Muslim Peer Sopore, Zahoor Khan son of Shafi Khan, Bashir Ahmad son of Ghulam Mohammad Shalaa, Ghulam Rasool son of Mohammad Shaban, Ashraf son of Mohammad Maqbool Shalla, Sajad son of Razaq Shalla of Shalpora, Ismayeel son of Ghulam Ahmed Butt of Marajpora, Ghulam Mohammad son of Khaliq Wani of Iqbal Nagar, Sideeq Rahee, Ghulam Nabi Zargar Son of Qadir of Badami Bagh, Ghulam Nabi Butt New Light Colony, Farooq Banday son Rashid Banday, Javid Sheikh, Ghulam Nabi Butt son of Abdullah Butt of Sangrampora, Altaf son of Ghulam Rasool Ganie of, Ashraf son of Ghulam Hassan Kangoo, Ashraf Kernaie son Hassan Kernaie Khan Kahie Mohalla, Ghulam Rasool Sofi of Rafiabad, Majeed son of Ghulam Mohammad Gadoo of Baba Raza, Majeed son of Shafi Sofi, Haji Gh Mohammad Sheikh of Krankshun colony, Ashraf Wani of Handwara, Mohammad Hussain Wani of Baramulla, Bashair Wani of Wanigam Pattan, Mushtaq Ahmad Balla Son of Khazir Balla of Seer, Mohammad Ashraf Mir of Ashpeer, Rashid son of Jabbar Sofi Bandipore, Rashid son of Ghulam Mohammad War Tujar Sharief, Khaliq son of Ghulam Mohidin Malik of Arampora, Razak Chalkoo son Ghulam Mohammad of Baramulla, Ghulam Mohammad son of Sultan War of Tujar Sharief, Gulzar Sheikh son of Abdullah Sheikh of Shahabad, Ghulam Mohidin son of Asadullah Mir Bandipora, Ghulam Rasool son of Sultan Sofi of Langate, Ghulam Mohammad Khan of Bandipora, Bita Mir son of Gh Mohdin of Tawheed Gung Baramulla, Bita Ganie son of Wali Mohd of Syed Kareem Baramulla, Misra wife of Asadullah Lone of Hatlongoo and Ghulam Mohammad Sheikh of Krankshun colony

Earlier Posted On  Frontline Kashmir

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A Mother’s Tragedy

Sixty-five-year-old Nabza Bano stands near a small cornfield where her three-storey house once stood in Sundbrari village, about 85kms from Srinagar, the capital of Indian-administered Kashmir. Lost in a melancholic silence, she points out all that remains of her old home – a few burnt logs.

She says two of her houses were burned down by the Indian army, along with two cowsheds, but what pains her most is the absence of her three sons – all of them killed by the Indian army. Their loss has inflicted a wound that only festers with the passing years.

But years of mourning have dried her tears and she is unable to weep now.

After their house was destroyed, Nabza and her family lived in a tent adjacent to the burnt remains of their home for six months during a harsh Kashmiri winter. The family’s neighbours and relatives helped them to build a modest one-storey house where Nabza now lives with her terminally-ill husband, her daughter, son-in-law, their two children and the two children of her now deceased eldest son.

They live in poverty. Nabza’s son-in-law works as a labourer, but he is the only wage earner in the family and his salary is not enough to support them all.

Nabza’s husband, Las Khan, suffers from asthma and his treatment costs about 15,000 Indian rupees ($340) a month. Last month, the family had to sell off one of their cows to cover the cost.

Picking up the gun

Nabza displays pictures of her sons [Majid Maqbool]

Las Khan has lost four sons to the conflict, including one from his first marriage. Mukhtar Ahmad was 40 when he was killed in an encounter with the Indian army in 1997. Khan says his eldest son was a militant.

The youngest of Khan’s sons with Nabza was just 13 years old when he was killed in 1999. Nabza says Mohammad Abbas would sometimes help out militants who were active in the area by showing them safe passages. “But he was not a militant and never had a gun. He was innocent,” she adds.

On the day he was killed, Nabza recalls, he had put on his best clothes and taken food for a few of the fighters who were in the mountains.

“As soon as they finished eating, the army laid an ambush and killed all of them in the encounter,” Nabza says. Seven were killed that day, including Mohammad. The death certificate issued by the police refers to Mohammad as a “19-year-old militant”.

Ajaz Khan and Ghulam Hassan – the elder two of Khan’s sons with Nabza – picked up the gun in the early 1990s when the armed struggle broke out in Kashmir. They both joined the indigenous rebel group, Hizbul Mujahideen.

Ajaz was 25 when he was killed in an encounter with the Indian army in 2002.

“He had come home that day after more than six months,” Nabza recalls.

But the army had laid an ambush outside their home and Ajaz was killed in the fighting that ensued. He was shot twice in the chest.

“Army from seven companies laid an ambush for him that day,” Nabza says. “Some families had offered him a safe house during the encounter but he declined, saying he could not bring harm to any civilians.”

Nabza says the shooting began at four o’clock in the afternoon and Ajaz fought until he ran out of ammunition. He was killed at around two o’clock in the morning. After his death, Nabza recalls, the soldiers fired shots into the night in jubilation.

Ghulam was one of the first young men from their village to join militant ranks in the early 1990s, Khan says.

“In 2003, he was arrested and tortured in custody for eight days in the RR [Rashtriya Rifles] military camp,” Nabza adds.

After he was released and returned home, Nabza says, her son bore the marks of torture on his body – his face was swollen, his kidneys damaged and he could barely walk or talk. A few days later he died.

“He died when he was offering morning prayers in this room,” Nabza says. “I held him close to my chest. I would not let him go,” she recalls. “Then I don’t know … I fainted.”

“After he died … the army lied and said that he had a heart attack in custody,” Khan interjects. “They even wrote this lie on his death certificate,” the old man explains.

Ghulam was the only one of their sons to marry. After he was killed, his wife remarried and Ghulam’s son and daughter came to live with Nabza and her husband.

‘Mother of militants’

Click here for more on the Kashmir conflict

Las Khan fell ill after the deaths of his sons and has been bedridden for the past 10 years. Photographs of his sons hang beside each other on the wall of his small room. He cannot speak or hear well, but he recalls the details of their deaths with clarity. He remembers the date and the deed. And even though illness has made him too weak to walk, he never misses a prayer. Gasping for breath, he prostrates himself in prayer five times a day.

Beside his bed is a small trunk. Nabza unlocks it and carefully removes pictures of their sons and their death certificates. She spreads them out on the floor, one by one, and stares at them. There are pictures of funeral processions, of people offering funeral prayers, others showing the burnt remains of their old home. She addresses the pictures as though talking to her sons in person – incoherent lamentations of how much she misses them and how she wishes that at least one of them had lived.

A child enters the room. He is the son of Ghulam. He carries a blackened samovar that had been found a few days before at the site of their old house. They gaze at it, turning it around. Their silence is filled with memories of their life before. Nabza explains that they used to serve tea to guests in this samovar. She says it was the only thing recovered from the burnt remains. Everything else was consumed by the fire.

Nabza recalls how in 1998, soldiers had raided their home, threatening to set fire to it. She says they had called her “the mother of militants”.

Las Khan produces a pocket diary. He flips its small pages, showing entries made in Urdu. It is a detailed record of the dates his sons were killed and his properties destroyed – a written testimony to the tragedies the family has endured.

When his sons were alive, Khan was himself arrested several times by the Indian army. He says he was tortured and beaten in custody for failing to convince his sons to surrender. His son-in-law shows an old mobile phone picture of Khan’s bandaged broken arm.

“The army said they would give me 1.3 million rupees if my son surrenders,” Khan explains. “But my son had not picked up the gun for money. He would not even call me father had I taken even 15 paisa from the army.”

Looking at her ailing husband, Nabza remembers how he was beaten every time their home was raided by soldiers looking for their sons. “I felt as if I was receiving those blows,” she says. “Those blows also hit my body.”

The family says the authorities told them that they could not claim any compensation for their houses or cowsheds because their sons were militants. Neither did they receive any substantial aid from groups opposed to Indian rule.

Now, all that Nabza is left with is her unshakable faith in God. She has a firm belief that her sons did not die in vain. “We will get freedom one day, God willing,” she says with conviction.

For Nabza, her sons remain alive in her memories. She talks to their pictures as though they are there with her. “All my sons are alive,” she says in Kashmiri, looking at the pictures spread out in front of her. And then, after a brief pauses, adds: “We are all dead.”

Source (C) Aalaw

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Police firing in India: Human lives not worth the monkeys

The killing of Altaf Ahmad Sood, a class XII student on 2 January 2012 at the NHPC premises at Boniyar village under Baramulla district of Jammu and Kashmir in the firing by the Central Industrial Security Force (CISF) personnel has exposed illegal direction issued by the CISF Directorate for the use of fire-arms to protect the installations. Altaf Ahmad was part of a mob of 400 villagers who took to the streets and later gathered near the local power station to protest against long hours of power outages.

On 30 September 2011, the CISF Deputy Inspector General, Shikha Goel reportedly issued a circular stating that the CISF Directorate had noted that some units were “failing to take proactive action” in protecting and securing the undertakings and that the CISF personnel should effectively protect the installations against mob violence, particularly where there is a delay in arrival of the local police or the magistrate.

The CISF circular is blatantly illegal. Section 129 of the Criminal Procedure Code (CrPC) provides that if protestors of an unlawful assembly do not disperse, they, if necessary, are to be arrested and confined. If it is still not possible to disperse, the CrPC further provides that the law enforcement personnel should use “as little force, and as little injury to person and property, as may be consistent with dispersing the assembly and arresting and detaining such persons”, with the authorisation by the Magistrate.

In clear violation of the CrPC, the first thing security personnel do is to use lethal weapon while dealing with protests which may turn violent. In most cases, police shoot without authorization of the Magistrate. Even when the police are authorised by the Magistrate, they usually shoot above the waist level to cause maximum damage i.e. loss of life or impairment for life. The Indian practice is in sharp contrast to the practice of the Britain which designed its bullets to be fired at the ground so that they would bounce up and hit the legs of demonstrators. In 1989, the British government further replaced its rubber bullets with the plastic ones for dealing with the protests in the Northern Ireland as the rubber bullets were considered too dangerous.

Each year the right to life of many citizens of India is violated in the disproportionate use of fire-arms by the law enforcement personnel. According to the statistics of the National Crime Records Bureau, in the last five years a total of 1,462 civilians were killed in police firing i.e. 472 in 2006, 250 in 2007, 317 in 2008, 184 in 2009 and 239 in 2010. In 2010, about 50.8% of all police firing cases were necessitated for ‘riot control’.

The patterns of police firing in India do not also meet the United Nations standards on the use of fire-arms. Rule 9  of the United Nations Basic Principles on the Use of Force and Firearms by Law Enforcement Officials of 1990 states that “Law enforcement officials shall not use firearms against persons except in self-defence or defence of others against the imminent threat of death or serious injury, to prevent the perpetration of a particularly serious crime involving grave threat to life, to arrest a person presenting such a danger and resisting their authority, or to prevent his or her escape, and only when less extreme means are insufficient to achieve these objectives. In any event, intentional lethal use of firearms may only be made when strictly unavoidable in order to protect life.” Further, Article 3(c) of the United Nations Code of Conduct for Law Enforcement Officials provides that “The use of firearms is considered an extreme measure. Every effort should be made to exclude the use of firearms, especially against children.”

Human life is too precious to be taken away by the trigger happy law enforcement personnel. The governments which are concerned about the right to life of their citizens have been using rubber and plastic bullets to reduce death and serious injuries.

Even the rubber bullets have been found dangerous. A study by the British medical doctors on the effects of rubber-coated bullets used by the Israeli police force during riots by Israeli-Arabs in northern and central Israel in early October 2000 found that Israeli Police often fire from too close range and aim poorly. The study published in The Lancet, a medical journal, in March 2002 concluded that “Resistance of the body surface at the site of impact (elastic limit) is the important factor that ascertains whether a blunt or penetrating injury is inflicted and its severity. Inaccuracy of rubber bullets and improper aiming and range of use resulted in severe injury and death in a substantial number of people. This ammunition should therefore not be considered a safe method of crowd control”.

In India, the use of rubber bullets is an exception while the use of live bullets is the norm. The State governments usually order inquiries to placate the situation once some protestors were killed. However, the use of force is often justified on the ground of mob violence. Since it is impossible to prove dis-proportionality of the use of fire-arms in case of violent protest, the inquiries often end up in exonerating the police personnel even if they simply aim to kill. The police firing on the protestors of land acquisition in Pune on 9 August 2011 captured on camera showed that the police fired to kill and not to control the crowd.

In the aftermath of Sharpeville massacre on 21 March 1960, even then Apartheid regime of South Africa started using the rubber bullets. If India is committed to ensure the right to life of its citizens, it must issue a circular to make it mandatory to use plastic coated bullets before the use of live bullets. After the Himachal Pradesh High Court disapproved of the use of live bullets to tackle the monkey menace in January 2011, the Himachal Pradesh State Wildlife Department started using the rubber bullets since May 2011. There is no reason as to why the guarantees to ensure the right to life of the monkeys cannot be extended to human beings.

Source (C) Aalaw

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