Pakistan has long carried a reputation for betrayal. But when one of its prime terrorists speaks of being betrayed, the story demands attention. In February 1991, this journalist sat down with Bitta Karate (Farooq Ahmed Dar), the notorious butcher of Kashmiri Pandits, in Kot Bhalwal Jail. Decoding his revelations took time, but what emerged exposed a grim nexus of fanaticism, manipulation, and treachery.
Bitta Karate, a self-confessed fanatic, admitted to killing 20 people, most of them Kashmiri Pandits. When asked hypothetically if he would have killed his own brother or mother, he answered without hesitation: yes. He executed these murders under orders from his ‘Area Commander’, Ishfaq Majid Wani, who was later killed in an encounter. J N Saxena, then DGP of Jammu & Kashmir, described him as a “compulsive killer” capable of gruesome acts even in front of women and children.
But the deeper story was one of betrayal. Bitta revealed that in 1988, when he crossed into Pakistan-occupied Kashmir (POK) for training, Pakistan had promised him that, while he caused mayhem inside the Valley, they would attack India from the outside. That promise was never kept. “Bahut dhokha hua hai,” he said, a profound sense of being deceived.
This betrayal was not personal; it was systematic. Pakistan switched support from the Jammu & Kashmir Liberation Front (JKLF) to Hizb-ul-Mujahideen, transferring weapons, resources, and strategic cover. The shift coincided with the December 1989 kidnapping of Rubaiyya Sayeed, daughter of the then Union Home Minister. Suddenly, JKLF found itself opposed not only by India and Hizb but also by the aggrieved Kashmiri Hindus.
While both JKLF and Hizb originated from the same jihadi network and ostensibly championed ‘Kashmiriyat,’ their end goals diverged sharply. JKLF sought an independent Kashmir, whereas Hizb aimed for merger with Pakistan. Initially, Pakistan leveraged JKLF’s secessionist sentiment to spark unrest.
But once violence escalated, Pakistan switched allegiance to Hizb, ensuring that Kashmir would align with its own strategic interests. JKLF’s idealistic jihad was discarded for Pakistan’s pragmatic agenda.
The consequences were devastating. The fall of JKLF led to a decline in popular support among Kashmiri Muslims, while Hizb’s deadlier presence intensified the terror. During Rubaiyya’s captivity, intelligence and policing in the Valley collapsed. Once she was released in exchange for five terrorists, the atmosphere became lethal for Hindus. On the night of 19-20 January 1990, mosques broadcast a stark ultimatum: convert, die, or leave. Pandits, facing killings, abductions, and assaults, fled en masse, abandoning homes, jobs, and possessions.
In response, the central government appointed Jagmohan as Governor, imposing central rule to restore order. His decisive action on Republic Day 1990-shoot-at-sight orders for violators — sent jihadis scrambling and prevented a declaration of an “independent Islamic Republic” of Kashmir.
Bitta Karate later realised why Pakistani trainers had blindfolded recruits in POK: Pakistan had been orchestrating a double game all along, training JKLF and Hizb cadres simultaneously while planning JKLF’s destruction. For the terrorists, it was a lesson in cold betrayal.
In the end, the story of Bitta Karate is one of mirrored treachery. Monsters like him betrayed their homeland through violence, while Pakistan betrayed the very instruments of that violence. It was a lesson in fanaticism, manipulation, and the brutal reality that in this theatre of terror, loyalty was always conditional and betrayal, inevitable.
The writer is a senior journalist