The Sheikh Bagh cemetery, shaded by majestic chinar trees and bordered by the ever-watchful Zabarwan hills, is the only Christian burial ground in the region
In the midst of bustling Srinagar, where modernity pushes persistently against the old, there lies a quiet piece of land, unassuming yet profoundly significant. The Sheikh Bagh cemetery, shaded by majestic chinar trees and bordered by the ever-watchful Zabarwan hills, is the only Christian burial ground in the region. It holds within its walls not just graves, but histories—of doctors, missionaries, soldiers, and humanitarians whose lives became entangled with the soul of Kashmir.
Established during the British Raj in the 18th century, the cemetery was never a grand monument but rather a humble resting place for those who lived and labored in this far corner of the world. Today, it is a rare and precious historical site that speaks to a time when faith, service, and cross-cultural compassion left quiet imprints on the valley.
Worn marble slabs and moss-covered stones fill the space. The names they bear are largely foreign, yet the stories they tell are deeply rooted in Kashmir. One particular epitaph, faded but still legible, reads: “The face we loved is gone, the voice we heard is still, the space left vacant in our hearts, never can be filled.” It is a line that captures the mood of the entire cemetery—a garden of memory where the ache of loss meets the dignity of service.
Among the most significant names etched into the story of Sheikh Bagh is that of Lieutenant Robert Thorpe. A young British officer, Thorpe arrived in Kashmir in the 1860s, driven not by conquest but by curiosity—and soon, conscience. What he saw troubled him deeply. At that time, Kashmir was under the rule of Maharaja Ranbir Singh of the Dogra dynasty, and the local populace, especially the Muslims, suffered under high taxation, forced labor, and systemic neglect.
Thorpe took up their cause with a passion that surprised even his peers. He began documenting the plight of Kashmiris in a powerful collection of essays titled Kashmir Misgovernment, in which he exposed the realities of life under Dogra rule. His writings, though deeply controversial at the time, are now seen as one of the earliest and most direct calls for justice on behalf of the Kashmiri people.
His advocacy was not without cost. On a cold day in November 1868, Thorpe was found dead under mysterious circumstances near Shankaracharya Hill. Officially, the cause was reported as a heart rupture, but many believed he was poisoned—silenced for speaking too boldly. His grave in Sheikh Bagh is a quiet place, yet it speaks loudly. The simple inscription, “He gave his life for Kashmir,” still moves those who pause to read it.
But Thorpe was only one among many who served this land. The Christian missionaries who came to Kashmir—some inspired by his legacy—brought more than words. They brought healing. In 1865, Dr. William Jackson Elmslie established the region라이브 바카라 first Christian medical mission, providing free healthcare at a time when such services were virtually unknown in the valley. His successors, Dr. Arthur Neve and Dr. Ernest Neve, carried on the mission with tireless dedication, founding the British Mission Hospital in Srinagar and treating thousands.
These doctors lived humbly, often contracting the very diseases they sought to treat. During a smallpox epidemic in 1892, Dr. Arthur Neve refused to leave his post, ultimately succumbing to exhaustion and illness. He, too, lies in Sheikh Bagh, not far from Thorpe, his name nearly worn away by time but remembered still by local historians and older residents who recall stories passed down through generations.
Christian schools were also established in the region, including the CMS School and the Presentation Convent, which educated boys and girls of all faiths. These institutions laid the groundwork for modern education in the valley, introducing Western pedagogy while respecting local traditions and languages. They brought literacy, especially to girls, who had long been excluded from formal education.
The cemetery, then, is more than a burial site. It is a silent witness to a layered history—of foreign lives lived in service to Kashmir. It is where East met West not in conquest, but in compassion.
In recent decades, the site has fallen into disrepair. Floods in 2014 severely damaged parts of the cemetery, submerging graves and washing away records. But restoration efforts, spearheaded by the British Association for Cemeteries in South Asia (BACSA) and supported by local volunteers, have helped reclaim this historic place. Simple fencing, repaired headstones, and careful landscaping have returned a measure of dignity to the site.
Today, Sheikh Bagh stands as a symbol of pluralism in a region too often defined by conflict. It reminds us that faith, when practiced in service of others, becomes a bridge between cultures and communities. It is a sacred place not only for Christians but for all who value courage, empathy, and remembrance.
Visitors who step inside the cemetery often fall silent. Surrounded by echoes of lives once lived with conviction, they are drawn to reflect—not just on the past, but on the power of humanity to transcend boundaries. The face may be gone, the voice may be still, but the space they filled—through service, sacrifice, and love—can be replaced .