Omar Abdullah’s Smart Meter Remark: A Palace Yawn in a Hungry Valley

Mudasir Yaqoob

When former Chief Minister Omar Abdullah recently declared that if his relatives living in Gupkar’s bungalows have no complaint against the installation of smart meters, the common people too should not object, he unintentionally exposed a truth larger than his statement — the vast, unbridgeable distance between the rulers and the ruled in Jammu and Kashmir.

 

 

 

 

 

His words were not merely a defence of a policy. They were a reflection of a mindset — one that confuses privilege for progress and comfort for consent. It is a symptom of political amnesia, where the powerful begin to believe that the conditions of their drawing rooms represent the realities of the streets.

 

 

 

 

 

 

There is a timeless Kashmiri proverb that captures this perfectly:
“Baadshahas wanuk draag woth, tim wun ak sun kariv kam”—
*When the king yawns, the subjects pretend they are sleepy too.*

That proverb, born out of centuries of feudal arrogance, now finds its most fitting echo in Omar Abdullah’s words. His comparison of his affluent kin in Gupkar with the impoverished families in the far-flung corners of Pulwama, Bandipora, or Kishtwar is not merely misplaced — it is profoundly tone-deaf.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A leader, even out of office, must carry the burden of empathy. But here, empathy was replaced by entitlement. To equate the silence of the privileged few with the acceptance of the struggling many is to erase the daily struggle of a people who live on the edge — where power cuts mean darkness, not inconvenience; where rising tariffs mean hunger, not discomfort.

History has known such rulers before. A Kashmiri monarch, long forgotten but often recalled in folklore, once advised his starving subjects to “eat one vegetable less among the seven served at dinner.” He believed, in his insulated wisdom, that everyone dined as he did — with abundance on the table. The people, who barely survived on scraps, could only laugh bitterly at the blindness of their king.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Omar Abdullah’s remark is a modern echo of that same blindness. It reflects a political class that still measures the valley’s pain in the comfort of its own privilege. The bungalows of Gupkar do not flicker in power outages; their meters do not threaten the monthly ration. To compare them with homes where a single bulb is a luxury is to compare privilege with survival.

The tragedy of Kashmiri politics has always been its distance from its people — leaders living in citadels, mistaking the silence of the governed for approval. Omar Abdullah’s statement reinforces that very divide. It is a reminder that detachment is the first step towards irrelevance.

The power of a ruler lies not in the ease with which he speaks, but in the truth he dares to hear. When that truth fades, the ruler’s voice becomes hollow — a yawn in a palace, mistaken for wisdom in a hungry valley.

 

 

 

 

And so, the old saying returns, hauntingly true once again:
When the Baadshah yawns, the people pretend to sleep — not because they are weary, but because they are weary of speaking.

Mudasir Yaqoob is Executive Editor and Chief to Board of Directors ANN News. Views expressed in the article are personal