<p>Srinagar: The <a href="https://www.deccanherald.com/tags/hurriyat-conference">Hurriyat Conference</a>, once the face of separatist politics in Kashmir, today lies in ruins—discredited, defanged and by the admission of one of its own, “non-functional.”</p><p>Into this emotionally fatigued but politically restless valley returns Bilal Gani Lone—once a moderate face of the Hurriyat Conference, now a man who wants to reclaim the dignity of Kashmiris, especially its disillusioned youth.</p><p>“In the name of dignity, we promised our people something we never delivered,” says Bilal. “We faltered. And the idea that Pakistan could deliver <a href="https://www.deccanherald.com/tags/kashmir">Kashmir </a>through rhetoric or force—well, that’s just a silly suggestion.”</p><p>This rare and stinging self-appraisal comes from a man once at the heart of Kashmir’s separatist movement. In a candid telephonic interview with <em>DH</em>, Bilal—whose father Abdul Gani Lone was assassinated in 2002—signals a quiet but unmistakable re-entry into Kashmir’s political narrative. This time, not in the name of ideology, but for the forgotten dignity of a broken people.</p>.Congress holds protest march in Srinagar demanding restoration of Jammu & Kashmir statehood.<p>“Every year, on July 13, from chief ministers to opposition leaders, everyone goes to the Martyrs’ Graveyard. No doubt the 1931 martyrs sacrificed for the dignity of Kashmiris. But what about the one lakh people who died in the last 35 years? Who remembers them? Who talks about their sacrifice?” he asks, his voice heavy with restrained rage.</p><p>Kashmir, he says, has become a place where 30 to 40 business houses and 8 to 10 political families have monopolized power, wealth, and voice. “They cry the loudest despite running 7,000-crore empires. But nobody listens to the poor man. He is left with graves, grief, and silence.”</p><p>For Bilal, this silence is no longer an option. “We’ve lost generations,” he says. “Youth raised on violence, on shattered promises. We owe them something real. They don’t want bloodshed or slogans—they want education, peace, dignity. My politics is for them.”</p><p>Two decades after Abdul Gani Lone—founder of People’s Conference and a votary of dialogue—was gunned down by Hizbul Mujahideen militants, his son’s political journey is beginning anew. And it is deeply personal.</p><p>“My father stood for non-violence and dignity. His legacy was distorted, even misused by those close to him—including family,” Bilal says, taking a direct shot at his brother Sajjad Lone. “We’ve been on different paths since 2002. Please, do politics on your own strength. Don’t exploit the ideology of our father.”</p><p>In the post-2002 years, while Sajjad entered electoral politics—aligning even with the BJP—Bilal stayed with the moderate Hurriyat faction led by Mirwaiz Umar Farooq. Over time, though, he retreated from active separatist politics, disillusioned with both its irrelevance and its compromises.</p><p>Now, he returns not to reclaim an old position, but to speak a difficult truth.</p><p>“The Hurriyat had opportunities to get something for our people. We missed them. Let’s be honest. Even Pakistan, for all its big talk, did little but deepen our wounds. They should help heal, not divide,” he says. “But Kashmir will never be won by force. Anyone who still believes that lives in fantasy.”</p><p>His return coincides with a time of visible fatigue in Kashmir’s political discourse. The separatist-militant rhetoric has lost traction, and mainstream parties are viewed with skepticism or disdain. In this vacuum, Bilal’s voice—measured, grounded in moral clarity—lands with surprising force.</p><p>Asked whether he is open to mainstream politics, Bilal doesn’t dodge. “We are active. It’s a collective, slow process. But it’s honest. I’m not running after posts, but I’m not running away either.”</p><p>“This generation is emotionally shattered. They need hope, not hashtags. They need someone who speaks for them without exploiting them,” he says.</p><p>There’s no grand blueprint, he admits. “I don’t have a strategy,” Bilal said as our call ended. “I just want to tell the truth. If that closes the doors of power, so be it. But I won’t lie to my people.”</p>
<p>Srinagar: The <a href="https://www.deccanherald.com/tags/hurriyat-conference">Hurriyat Conference</a>, once the face of separatist politics in Kashmir, today lies in ruins—discredited, defanged and by the admission of one of its own, “non-functional.”</p><p>Into this emotionally fatigued but politically restless valley returns Bilal Gani Lone—once a moderate face of the Hurriyat Conference, now a man who wants to reclaim the dignity of Kashmiris, especially its disillusioned youth.</p><p>“In the name of dignity, we promised our people something we never delivered,” says Bilal. “We faltered. And the idea that Pakistan could deliver <a href="https://www.deccanherald.com/tags/kashmir">Kashmir </a>through rhetoric or force—well, that’s just a silly suggestion.”</p><p>This rare and stinging self-appraisal comes from a man once at the heart of Kashmir’s separatist movement. In a candid telephonic interview with <em>DH</em>, Bilal—whose father Abdul Gani Lone was assassinated in 2002—signals a quiet but unmistakable re-entry into Kashmir’s political narrative. This time, not in the name of ideology, but for the forgotten dignity of a broken people.</p>.Congress holds protest march in Srinagar demanding restoration of Jammu & Kashmir statehood.<p>“Every year, on July 13, from chief ministers to opposition leaders, everyone goes to the Martyrs’ Graveyard. No doubt the 1931 martyrs sacrificed for the dignity of Kashmiris. But what about the one lakh people who died in the last 35 years? Who remembers them? Who talks about their sacrifice?” he asks, his voice heavy with restrained rage.</p><p>Kashmir, he says, has become a place where 30 to 40 business houses and 8 to 10 political families have monopolized power, wealth, and voice. “They cry the loudest despite running 7,000-crore empires. But nobody listens to the poor man. He is left with graves, grief, and silence.”</p><p>For Bilal, this silence is no longer an option. “We’ve lost generations,” he says. “Youth raised on violence, on shattered promises. We owe them something real. They don’t want bloodshed or slogans—they want education, peace, dignity. My politics is for them.”</p><p>Two decades after Abdul Gani Lone—founder of People’s Conference and a votary of dialogue—was gunned down by Hizbul Mujahideen militants, his son’s political journey is beginning anew. And it is deeply personal.</p><p>“My father stood for non-violence and dignity. His legacy was distorted, even misused by those close to him—including family,” Bilal says, taking a direct shot at his brother Sajjad Lone. “We’ve been on different paths since 2002. Please, do politics on your own strength. Don’t exploit the ideology of our father.”</p><p>In the post-2002 years, while Sajjad entered electoral politics—aligning even with the BJP—Bilal stayed with the moderate Hurriyat faction led by Mirwaiz Umar Farooq. Over time, though, he retreated from active separatist politics, disillusioned with both its irrelevance and its compromises.</p><p>Now, he returns not to reclaim an old position, but to speak a difficult truth.</p><p>“The Hurriyat had opportunities to get something for our people. We missed them. Let’s be honest. Even Pakistan, for all its big talk, did little but deepen our wounds. They should help heal, not divide,” he says. “But Kashmir will never be won by force. Anyone who still believes that lives in fantasy.”</p><p>His return coincides with a time of visible fatigue in Kashmir’s political discourse. The separatist-militant rhetoric has lost traction, and mainstream parties are viewed with skepticism or disdain. In this vacuum, Bilal’s voice—measured, grounded in moral clarity—lands with surprising force.</p><p>Asked whether he is open to mainstream politics, Bilal doesn’t dodge. “We are active. It’s a collective, slow process. But it’s honest. I’m not running after posts, but I’m not running away either.”</p><p>“This generation is emotionally shattered. They need hope, not hashtags. They need someone who speaks for them without exploiting them,” he says.</p><p>There’s no grand blueprint, he admits. “I don’t have a strategy,” Bilal said as our call ended. “I just want to tell the truth. If that closes the doors of power, so be it. But I won’t lie to my people.”</p>