In Kashmir, journalism is never a routine job. It is a calling that demands patience, courage, and a quiet kind of strength. News is not gathered in peaceful offices or predictable streets. It is collected in villages still carrying the weight of grief, on roads filled with noise, and in conversations where every sentence holds a history. To choose this profession here means carrying the responsibility of telling the truth even when the truth is heavy. Among those who lived this duty with honesty and grace was Tariq Ahmad Bhat, a name that earned respect not by noise, but through years of steady and sincere reporting.
Tariq Sahib was 54 when he left this world. Born and raised in Srinagar, he spent most of his life observing the land he loved, speaking to its people, and documenting its many layers. For more than two decades, he worked as a journalist, most prominently representing THE WEEK magazine from Jammu and Kashmir. In that time, his reporting did not just bring news to readers, it brought lived experiences, human emotions, and voices of ordinary people into the national conversation. He understood something many forget: a story is not only about events; it is also about the people who live through them.
Those who met him remember a gentle-spoken man, calm in manner and thoughtful in his approach. He was not someone who rushed into conversations or chased dramatic soundbites. He believed that to write well, one must first listen well. Many young reporters recall how he encouraged them to focus on understanding before writing, and to treat every person they interviewed with respect, whether a grieving parent or a government official. Journalism, for him, was not a race; it was a responsibility.
A senior television journalist, remembering their first field visit with him, said, “Tariq sahab didn’t just teach reporting, he taught patience. He would say, ‘If you don’t listen properly, you don’t deserve to write.’ That stayed with me.”
Another colleague who shared newsroom hours with him remarked, “In a profession full of ego and hurry, he was different, always composed, always fair. He never tried to outshine anyone. He just did his job with dignity.”
Kashmir has produced many brave journalists, but bravery comes in different shapes. Some courage is loud and visible; some is steady and quiet. Tariq’s courage belonged to the second kind. He did not make grand claims about risk or sacrifice. He simply showed up every day, notebook in hand, ready to do his work with dignity. He walked into areas others hesitated to enter, not to prove a point, but because there were stories there that deserved to be told. In silence and sincerity, he carried the weight of truth.
He covered politics, conflict, social issues, and everyday life, but what remained constant in all his work was humanity. He did not write to judge; he wrote to understand. If a family suffered, he gave their grief space. If a policy affected the common person, he highlighted it without drama. His writing had balance, and people trusted him because he never twisted voices to fit an agenda. In a time when opinions often overshadow facts, he held on to fairness like a value he could not compromise.
A young reporter he mentored offered a simple but moving memory, “Whenever I doubted whether this profession was worth it, he would say, ‘Truth is slow, but it reaches.’ Today I understand what he meant.”
Beyond his work, Tariq Sahib was a family man. Friends say he found comfort in simple family gatherings and conversations at home. He carried himself with humility and did not bring the stress of his profession into private life. He leaves behind a family that felt pride in his work but also felt the constant weight of the risks he quietly lived with. For them, he was not only a journalist; he was a son, a husband, a father, a brother — someone whose presence brought calm and warmth.
His sudden passing came as a shock to the media fraternity and to many people across the Valley who had grown familiar with his byline. Those who knew him personally speak of a person who never allowed bitterness to take root in him, even after years of covering difficult stories. It is not easy to report from Kashmir without carrying emotional scars, but Tariq Sahib found a way to remain gentle, to hold on to empathy, and to believe that truth has value even if the world does not always reward it.
With his departure, journalism in Kashmir has lost one of its sincere guardians. His absence is felt not only in newsrooms but in the moral fabric of the profession here. He represented a generation of reporters who believed that journalism is about service to society, to memory, and to justice. He never treated reporting as a ladder to personal fame. His satisfaction came from knowing he had done his duty with integrity.
As we remember him today, we honour a life shaped by sincerity, resilience, and compassion. In a place where words can either heal or harm, he chose to write in ways that dignified others. May his soul rest in peace, and may his legacy continue to inspire those who believe that journalism, at its heart, is an act of humanity. His work continues to speak in his silence, a reminder that true respect is earned not by volume, but by values lived every single day.
Author is a columnist and has written for Greater Kashmir, Kashmir Observer, The Print, Countercurrents and other media outlets. He is based in Gowhar Pora Chadoora, J&K.
