| “Om Asato Maa Sad-Gamayā,
Tamaso Maa Jyotir-Gamayā,
Mrityor Maa Amritam-Gamayā.”
(Lead us from the unreal to the real, from darkness to light, from mortality to immortality.)
As New Year 2026 dawns with its gentle radiance, a sacred greeting rises for the Kashmiri Pandit community—a people whose resilience is woven from spiritual discipline, whose wisdom echoes through centuries, and whose memory continues to illuminate the valley even in their physical absence. Their exile may have separated them from their homeland, but it could never separate them from their identity. They are the children of Sharda, the heirs of ancient sages, the keepers of Agni, Veda, and Satya—the very forces that once sanctified Kashmir and gave it the soul that the world admired.
In Karma-Vigyan, three forces guide every life and every community: Sanchit Karma (accumulated actions of past lives), Prārabdha Karma (the destined portion that must unfold in this life), and Kriyamān Karma (the actions we perform now, shaping the future). Among these, Prārabdha is the portion of destiny that is unavoidable, unalterable, and divinely timed. It manifests only when the universe decides: “Now the cycle must complete.” The story of the Kashmiri Pandits is precisely such a Prārabdha. Their exile is not merely a social wound; it is a chapter ordained for purification, endurance, and inner awakening. But the same Dharma-Shastra declares: “Prārabdha never leaves a righteous one unfinished.” What begins in suffering ends in restoration — just as night ends in sunrise without asking permission.
Nature does not tolerate imbalance. Just as a ball thrown down with force bounces back with equal energy, any act of injustice sets in motion an equal and opposite restoration in the moral universe. Thus the law becomes a metaphor here: the “action” is displacement; the “reaction” is return. The “force” is injustice; the “counterforce” is restoration. Newton’s physical law mirrors a higher moral law: “The exile of the Pandits created a vacuum in Dharma; and Nature, bound by her own law, must fill that vacuum by their return.”
Every displacement in creation demands a return to equilibrium. When a tree is uprooted, the soil yearns to hold its roots again; when a civilization is exiled, the land itself remains incomplete until her children come back. This is not sentiment — it is the geometry of existence. Dharma, too, is a law of balance.
Their story is not a chronicle of defeat; it is a testament to dignity. Silence may have surrounded their suffering, but silence cannot dim the truth. As rivers naturally find their path to the sea, the Kashmiri Pandits too shall return to the cradle of their civilization — not as displaced souls seeking charity, but as rightful inheritors reclaiming what has always been theirs. Their return is not dependent on political benevolence; it is written into the natural rhythm of Dharma and cosmic law.
The ancient Nilamata Purana declares that the land where Brahmins uphold sacred fire, knowledge, and truth becomes blessed. Kashmir blossomed under this blessing because the Pandits lived there—tending the sacred flame, preserving sacred hymns, and aligning the valley with cosmic harmony. Their absence, therefore, is not merely geographical; it is the temporary silence of a spiritual heartbeat. And just as a heartbeat inevitably resumes, their homecoming too is inevitable.
Wherever a Kashmiri Pandit travels, one divine name whispers through the stillness of the soul—Maa Sharada. The chants they composed, the rituals they nurtured, the philosophies they unfolded — all rise like incense toward Her. A child who remembers his mother never loses the way home. Their return is therefore not uncertain; it is destined, guided by the very divinity they have worshipped for ages.
Centuries ago, the valley produced Abhinavagupta — the sage whose doctrine of Prakasha taught that truth always completes its orbit and returns to its source. The Kashmiri Pandits, born of that philosophical brilliance, carry within them the same law. They may wander for a while, but they cannot remain away forever. Nature does not permit the permanent exile of truth-bearers.
History shows that the righteous are often met with silence before they are recognized. The Bhagavad Gita says: “Yadā yadā hi dharmasya glānir bhavati Bhārata…” (Whenever righteousness declines and unrighteousness rises, I manifest Myself.) Even Lord Krishna, when He went to Hastinapur as a messenger of peace, was mocked and dismissed. Yet His words prepared the world for Dharma-Yuddha. So too it is today. The words of the Kashmiri Pandits may fall upon deaf ears, but they are reshaping the conscience of time.
When Lord Rama was exiled, the majority remained silent — not because they supported injustice, but because fear outweighed courage. This is how Dharma tests the righteous: through silence, through isolation, through endurance. Rama’s exile purified Ayodhya before His return. Perhaps the exile of the Pandits, too, is a sacred purification — preparing the land for their rightful re-entry.
The Upanishads remind us: “Ātmanastu kāmāya sarvaṁ priyaṁ bhavati…” (People hear only what aligns with their self-interest.) The world’s indifference toward the Pandits is therefore not rejection but a test. Silence toward suffering is an ancient human weakness; yet silence always has a price. When Draupadi was humiliated, the elders — Bhishma, Drona, Vidura — remained silent. Not because they agreed, but because comfort outweighed courage. The same silence echoes today — calling injustice “complex” instead of confronting it. But the price of silence always arrives, as it did at Kurukshetra. One day, the conscience of India will ask why her own Pandits were left unheard.
History affirms this certainty. Communities dispersed or oppressed have returned when their perseverance, memory, and moral claim became undeniable. The Pandits — scholars, sages, and bearers of sacred wisdom — possess this very strength. Their return is a natural law, not dependent on approval, not delayed by politics, but certain as sunrise after the longest night.
Exile is not punishment. It is preparation. When the bearers of light are displaced, darkness spreads not by force, but by absence. The exile of the Pandits is thus not the end of their story; it is the quiet interval before a triumphant return. The Gita says: “Satyasya prārabdhaṁ balavattaram” (The destiny of truth is the strongest.) The Jews wandered for millennia, yet returned — not because the world offered them kindness, but because spiritual identity cannot be erased. So too must the Pandits carry their inner vow: “Next year in Sharda Desh.”
Communities rooted in sacred memory do not vanish. They may bend but do not break. They may be scattered but are never lost. Their return is governed by natural law, by the truth that wisdom returns to where it once illuminated the world. The valley that once glowed with their chants cannot remain spiritually vacant forever. Where light has lived, light must return.
When that homecoming arrives, the chinars will stand prouder, the Vetasta will flow clearer, and even the winds will whisper: “The children have come home.” And history will write not of exile, but of endurance; not of loss, but of restoration; not of silence, but of the unbreakable certainty of Dharma.
“Sarve Bhavantu Sukhinah,
Sarve Santu Nirāmayāḥ,
Sarve Bhadrāṇi Paśyantu,
Mā kaścid duḥkha-bhāg bhavet.”
(May all beings be happy, may all be free from suffering, may all witness auspiciousness, and may none ever be touched by sorrow. May this blessing) |
Veer Krishan Sharma, a native of Village Akura, District Anantnag, Kashmir, is a postgraduate in Hindi from the University of Kashmir. Began his professional journey as a teacher at Tyndale Biscoe School, Srinagar Kashmir. After the migration from Kashmir, relocated to New Delhi, where he transitioned into the publishing industry. Worked extensively on Cambridge books and journals, ensuring the highest standards of academic publication. Currently, he continues to contribute meaningfully as a freelance writer and editor, focusing primarily on academic books and journals. His work reflects a deep commitment to preserving and promoting the spiritual and cultural legacy of his homeland.