This time, the Indian Army didn’t arrive en masse. They used mud-smeared dump trucks packed with soldiers wearing traditional pheran cloaks, guns hidden. The villagers thought they were laborers. The soldiers quietly surrounded the house and called for backup.

The soldiers sent in two rounds of emissaries, including village elders, to persuade Sameer Tiger to surrender. He replied with a burst of bullets, hitting Major Shukla in the shoulder.

The sound of gunfire served as an alarm, setting off an eruption. The village mobilized. Boys, girls, men and women scampered out of their houses and rushed into the road with stones in their hands. Mosque loudspeakers blared: “Sameer Tiger is trapped! Go help him!” The whole town, quite openly, was rallying to an outlaw’s side.

As additional army trucks rumbled in, packed with troops, more civilians rushed forward, trying to insert themselves between the troops and Sameer Tiger. One young man was shot dead; the crowd kept coming.

But the cordon had been well laid, growing to nearly 300 soldiers and police officers. The civilians, however determined, couldn’t break it.

Several police commanders said security officers then moved in, firing a rocket at the house. Flames burst out. Sameer Tiger scampered onto a rooftop. The soldiers opened up with automatic weapons from four directions. He was hit several times.



A CULTURE OF DEATH IS SPREADING across Kashmir. The militants have become the biggest heroes. People paint their names on walls. They wear T-shirts showing their bearded faces. They speak of them affectionately, as if they are close friends. The militants are especially revered after they are dead.