Few issues in Jammu and Kashmir’s administrative history have so starkly illustrated the limits of bureaucratic reform and the persistence of policy paralysis as the long-drawn Gair Mumkin Khad controversy. What began with the promise of clarity and relief for thousands of landowners has instead stretched into years of frustration, marked by procedural delays, incomplete surveys, and a widening trust deficit between citizens and institutions. The decision to now constitute a ministerial panel underscores the recognition that bureaucratic committees, despite repeated directions and revised frameworks, have failed to deliver. Yet it also raises questions about why such a critical reform was allowed to languish until political intervention became inevitable.
The issue first gained momentum in January 2022, when the Administrative Council approved the delineation and demarcation of lands wrongly recorded in revenue documents as Gair Mumkin Khad, Darya, or Nullah. These classifications, often made decades ago, had frozen the rights of private landowners, leaving them unable to sell, develop, or even mortgage their property. The decision to correct these records was seen as a landmark step towards restoring ownership rights and enabling economic activity. District, divisional, and UT-level committees were created with clear terms of reference and strict timelines. For many citizens, the announcement represented the long-awaited end to an ordeal that had choked livelihoods and denied them the dignity of exercising basic property rights. But optimism soon gave way to disappointment. Surveys were delayed, monitoring remained ineffective, and committees raised objections that could have been resolved at the outset. Instead of providing clarity, the process became mired in hesitation and half-measures. Two years later, when progress was sought, little had been achieved beyond bureaucratic paperwork. A revised framework in July 2024 attempted to decentralize powers, authorizing Deputy Commissioners to handle smaller cases and introducing digital elevation models and hydrological mapping to improve accuracy. Yet even with simplified rules and modern tools, the ground situation hardly changed. Cases pertaining to state lands received some attention, while privately owned plots—the heart of the problem—continued to languish. This inertia has not been without cost. Families dependent on selling or developing their land remain trapped, their property rights effectively suspended. Entrepreneurs have been unable to use land as collateral, stifling investment opportunities. Farmers and small landholders see their ability to plan for the future curtailed by what is, at its core, a failure of governance. It is not simply a legal or technical matter but a socio-economic issue that strikes at the very foundation of citizens’ faith in public institutions. The constitution of a ministerial panel now offers a new opportunity. By placing responsibility in the hands of elected representatives, the government has signaled that the matter requires urgent political will rather than further bureaucratic tinkering. The three-member committee, tasked with reporting within three months, carries the responsibility of breaking the logjam. But to restore public confidence, it must do more than just compile recommendations. It must create a transparent process that engages with affected stakeholders, applies technology fairly, and ensures that legitimate private ownership is not sacrificed to official apathy or over-caution. At the same time, the episode holds broader lessons for governance. Reforms cannot succeed if they are reduced to committee reports without accountability. Time-bound decisions mean little if timelines are ignored without consequence. When people’s lives and livelihoods are at stake, administrative excuses only deepen the perception that citizen concerns are expendable. The credibility of governance rests on the ability to deliver, not on the repetition of frameworks.
The Gair Mumkin Khad issue is, in many ways, a test case for reform-oriented administration in Jammu and Kashmir. If resolved decisively, it could unlock economic potential, restore dignity to landowners, and demonstrate that government can act as a genuine enabler of growth. If allowed to drift further, it risks becoming a permanent reminder of how well-intentioned reforms collapse under the weight of inertia. The shift from bureaucratic stalemate to political oversight should not be the end of the story but the beginning of a serious, time-bound effort to finally close a chapter that has remained unfinished for far too long.