- 225 buses carried displaced Kashmiri Hindus to the Valley amid tight security
- About five lakh Kashmiri Hindus were displaced by terrorism in the early 1990s
- The pilgrimage symbolises reunion and hope for permanent return to Kashmir
Suparna was eight in 1990, the night her family fled the Valley in silence, leaving behind a home, a courtyard, a childhood. She has not returned since. Today, as a convoy headed for the Kheer Bhawani shrine, she wasn't just a pilgrim. She was a daughter returning home.
"This is a nostalgic moment for me. It took so many years just to reach the place that used to be my homeland," Suparna whispered, clutching the window rail as her eyes welled up from the weight of 36 years.
Suparna is not alone in living with the pain of exile. In the early 1990s, an estimated five lakh Kashmiri Hindus were forced to flee their homes in the Valley, uprooted by Pakistan-sponsored terrorism that turned neighbours into strangers and hearths into memories.
On Saturday morning, amid tight security, 225 buses carrying hundreds of displaced Kashmiri Hindus left Jammu for the Valley for the annual Kheer Bhawani Mela.
For the exiled community, this three-day journey is less about ritual and more about reunion.
The only prayer they carry in their hearts for goddess Mata Rani is to make the atmosphere stable enough for them to return to Kashmir permanently.
"Right now we go as pilgrims. Next year I want to go back forever," said Bhushan Lal. His parents died with a single, unfulfilled hope: to return home one day. "They lived with that hope. But they could not see that day," recounted Lal.
This is not a routine pilgrimage. For Kashmiri Pandits, grief and devotion travel on the same ticket. They wait an entire year for Kheer Bhawani - not merely to bow before the goddess, but because these three days are the only time they can touch the soil their ancestors called home. For many on these buses, it is the first footstep on Kashmiri earth in 36 years.
Kheer Bhawani is not just a shrine. For an exiled people, it is a fragile bridge between displacement and belonging.
"I can't tell you what these three days mean to us," said Dulari, an elderly woman. "I breathe the air of my Kashmir. Even if only for a while, I am home," she added.
