On September 29, 2025, the normally bustling streets of Muzaffarabad, the regional capital of Pakistan-administered Kashmir, fell eerily silent. Markets shuttered, roads blocked, and the hum of daily life replaced by tension and uncertainty as the Jammu Kashmir Joint Awami Action Committee (JKJAAC) called for a sweeping “shutter-down and wheel-jam” strike. The protest, one of the largest in the region’s recent history, quickly escalated into violence, leaving at least one person dead and more than two dozen injured, including a policeman, according to multiple local and international news reports.
The strike was not an isolated event, but the culmination of years—some would say decades—of simmering frustration. The JKJAAC, a civil rights alliance, organized the demonstrations to demand subsidized flour and electricity, an end to elite privileges, and structural reforms to the region’s governance. As reported by NDTV, the group’s 38-point charter included calls to abolish 12 legislative seats in the Azad Jammu and Kashmir (AJK) assembly reserved for Kashmiri refugees living in Pakistan—seats locals argue undermine their representative voice. Protesters also sought fairer power tariffs, particularly given the presence of the Mangla hydropower project in the region, and the implementation of reforms Islamabad had long promised but, in their view, never delivered.
“Our campaign is not against any institution but for the fundamental rights denied to our people for over 70 years,” a core JKJAAC leader told crowds in Muzaffarabad, as cited by NDTV. The leader’s words echoed through the crowd: “Enough is enough. Either deliver on rights or face the wrath of the people.”
Authorities, clearly anticipating unrest, responded with a heavy hand. According to NDTV and Dawn, thousands of security personnel were deployed, with additional troops brought in from Punjab and an extra 1,000 police officers sent to reinforce local forces. Entry points to major cities were sealed, and, in a move that would soon have profound consequences, mobile phone and internet services were suspended across much of the region, a blackout that began at noon the previous day and was expected to last at least until Wednesday. Landline and private internet networks also went down, further isolating the population.
The situation took a deadly turn around midday at Neelum Bridge, a key crossing in Muzaffarabad. There, JKJAAC protesters clashed with participants of a parallel “peace rally” organized by the Muslim Conference, a political party whose supporters included leader Raja Saqib Majeed. Tensions, already high, erupted into violence when, according to witness accounts reported by Dawn and The Express Tribune, members of the peace rally allegedly opened fire on the demonstrators. Mohammad Sudheer, a 30-year-old crockery shop owner, was struck by a bullet and died during treatment at the Combined Military Hospital. Several others, including a policeman and another shopkeeper, Mohammad Basharat, suffered injuries from gunfire and shrapnel.
“By the time we reached CMH, he had lost consciousness due to excessive bleeding,” said Ghulam Mustafa, who witnessed the aftermath. At the hospital, bystanders displayed spent bullet casings they said were collected from the scene as they attempted to rescue the wounded. The violence was captured in viral social media footage before the communication blackout fully took hold. Journalist Farhan Ahmed Khan noted, “The incident, captured in viral social media footage, clearly shows the persons shooting at the crowd.”
As often happens in such chaotic moments, blame for the violence quickly became a matter of dispute. JKJAAC leaders insisted that their movement was peaceful and accused the peace rally’s participants of firing “without any provocation.” In contrast, some government officials and local media outlets suggested that it was the demonstrators themselves who had instigated the gunfire. With phone lines down and internet access restricted, verifying these claims proved difficult.
In the evening, the unrest had not subsided. Nearly 5,000 people gathered at Lal Chowk in Muzaffarabad, where JKJAAC central leader Shaukat Nawaz Mir delivered a fiery 17-minute speech. He condemned the shooting and accused the authorities of attempting to stage "another May 9"—a reference to previous episodes of state-provoked unrest—using their "touts". Mir called on supporters to reassemble at the same spot the next day, vowing that protests would continue until every demand was met. “Fake footages are being aired to suggest everything is normal,” he declared, as reported by The Express Tribune, “but our movement will not stop.”
The strike’s impact radiated far beyond Muzaffarabad. According to Dawn and The Express Tribune, protests and roadblocks paralyzed towns across AJK, including Mirpur, Poonch, Neelum, Bhimber, Palandari, Rawalakot, and Sudhnoti. Even overseas, in cities like London and Bradford, UK-based Kashmiris rallied in solidarity, with Raja Amjad Ali Khan telling the Pakistani consulate, “We have no quarrel with any institution or the Army. Branding protesters as traitors only serves Pakistan’s enemies. This movement includes all schools of thought and seeks only the rights of the people.”
As the dust settled, law enforcement agencies began legal action against those accused of vandalism and rioting. Security officials promised “strict legal action against anyone damaging public property or inciting unrest.” District Magistrate Mudasser Farooq reminded the public, “Peace is the collective responsibility of citizens and the administration.” Meanwhile, the federal government, represented by Minister for Parliamentary Affairs Tariq Fazal Chaudhry and Minister for Kashmir Affairs Ameer Muqam, urged dialogue. Chaudhry claimed that authorities had agreed to 95% of the protesters’ demands but lamented that some still resorted to violence. Muqam noted that talks had failed because certain demands—especially those concerning the refugee assembly seats and official privileges—would require constitutional amendments, a process neither quick nor simple.
The government maintained that wheat and electricity were already being supplied at discounted rates, and accused the protest movement of being politically motivated. “After the government had already provided flour and electricity subsidies, demanding more through strikes appeared unreasonable and politically motivated,” read an official statement. Yet for many in the region, these assurances rang hollow. The JKJAAC had led similar protests just a year earlier, which resulted in four deaths and dozens injured, but their grievances, in their view, remained largely unaddressed.
In the wake of the violence, questions abound. Why was the peace rally allowed to proceed on the same day as the JKJAAC’s lockdown call? Was the heavy security presence a deterrent or an escalator? And with communications cut, how can the truth of what happened at Neelum Bridge be fully known?
As Tuesday dawned, Muzaffarabad and the wider region braced for further demonstrations. Shops remained shuttered, roads empty, and a sense of uncertainty hung in the air. For now, the people of Pakistan-administered Kashmir are left waiting—hoping that their voices will be heard, and that peace, however fragile, will return to their streets.