By: Mohd Amin Mir
In the intricate machinery of local governance in Jammu and Kashmir, the twin roles of lumberdar and chowkidar were once pivotal—trusted eyes and ears of the state in both urban and rural areas. Appointed as intermediaries between the administration and the populace, they were responsible for maintaining public order, assisting in revenue collection, and providing local intelligence.
However, the system, conceived over a century ago during colonial rule, is now groaning under the weight of unprecedented demographic shifts.
What was once a sensible ratio—one lumberdar or chowkidar for every 100 families in rural areas, and one for every 100 to 150 families in urban settings—has now become obsolete. With population figures swelling nearly fivefold since independence, the scale of oversight entrusted to these few individuals is not just impractical—it is fundamentally unjus
To understand the gravity of the issue, we must revisit the genesis of these roles.
The lumberdar, a legacy of British administrative design, was typically a local influential figure appointed to act as a village-level informant, revenue assistant, and representative of the state. He assisted in land revenue collection, maintained records, and relayed official orders.
The chowkidar, on the other hand, was the village watchman—tasked with maintaining vigil, providing nightly security, and assisting in criminal intelligence.
These appointments were fixed and hereditary in many cases, with the government providing a small honorarium or a portion of revenue (known as “lumberdari bata”) as remuneration. Their authority stemmed less from statutory law and more from tradition and social hierarchy.
Fast forward to 2025, and Kashmir’s demographic reality is starkly different. Villages that once housed a few hundred now number in the thousands. Urban centers like Anantnag, Baramulla, and Pulwama have transformed into bustling semi-metropolises. Yet, the number of lumberdars and chowkidars remains frozen in time
The consequences of this demographic mismatch are clear:
Dilution of oversight: One individual cannot realistically monitor hundreds of families spread across different mohallas or wards.
Erosion of authority: An overburdened lumberdar or chowkidar cannot enforce his writ, reducing his role to ceremonial rather than functional.
Increased vulnerability: Crime, encroachments, and social disputes have grown, but these functionaries are helplessly under-resourced and overextended.
- The Vanishing Chowkidar in Urban
Anantnag
In localities like Lalchowck, residents often say they’ve never seen their designated chowkidar. “He might exist on paper,” one shopkeeper quips, “but we rely more on CCTV and our own vigilance than any chowkidar.” In a mohalla with over 3000 households, how can one chowkidar patrol effectively?
Without Records in South Kashmir
In villages around Qazigund and Dooru, lumberdars are still called upon during land demarcation or welfare schemes. But many confess they no longer maintain traditional records, are unfamiliar with digitized land data, and have neither assistants nor clerical support.
A major reason this system continues to operate in its outdated form is administrative inertia. Despite numerous reports and departmental reviews, no concrete overhaul has been initiated.
Legal ambiguity: The J&K Lambardari Act and Chowkidari Rules are relics with no provision for revision based on population growth.
No performance audits: Lumberdars and chowkidars are often retained for years without reviews.
These posts carry little political weight, unlike elected panchayat member
This stagnation has cascading effects:
Increased burden on police and revenue officials: Without ground-level support, tehsildars and SHOs are overwhelmed.
Loss of traditional intelligence networks: In the absence of real-time reports, the administration is often flying blind.
Public disenchantment: Citizens view these figures as irrelevant, weakening faith in decentralized governance.
Other South Asian countries have either modernized or phased out similar roles:
Nepal: Local ward chairs and assistants carry administrative and vigilante responsibilities.
Bangladesh: Community policing with trained local volunteers under official supervision has replaced the old system.
Rajasthan, India: Chowkidars are now integrated into the police’s community beat system for proactive patrolling.
To rejuvenate this institution, a comprehensive reform agenda is necessary.
Appoint one lumberdar and one chowkidar per 300–400 households in rural areas.
In urban wards, assign one per 150–200 households.
Provide for assistant chowkidars and deputy lumberdars.
Amend the Lambardari and Chowkidari Acts to include decennial reviews.
Introduce fixed terms, reappointment conditions, and performance-based removal.
Provide them with mobile apps to report local issues.
Build a dashboard for administrative tracking of activity and coverage.
Introduce mandatory induction training in revenue procedure, law, and public service.
Conduct annual refresher courses and assessments.
Conduct village or ward surveys on their visibility and performance.
Create toll-free complaint lines or online portals
Revise honoraria to reflect rising inflation and job complexity.
Offer incentives for proactive land dispute resolution, encroachment detection, and citizen feedback.
Discontinue hereditary appointments.
Set minimum education and physical criteria.
Involve panchayats or ward committees in transparent selection.
Require quarterly logs of activities and outcomes.
Logs should be cross-signed by patwaris, panchayat heads, or municipal officers.
If grassroots governance is to thrive, its instruments must evolve. The lumberdar and chowkidar system is not beyond repair—it is simply out of sync with modern realities.
Rather than scrapping these roles, we must recast them as 21st-century local officers—trained, visible, equipped, and accountable. A hybrid of tradition and innovation can restore their legitimacy.
Modern Kashmir needs functionaries who are not symbolic figureheads but operational pillars. The tools are at our disposal—digital infrastructure, local governance frameworks, and public feedback mechanisms.
All we need is political will and administrative courage to act
Mohd Amin Mir is a legal and policy columnist specializing in land revenue and grassroots governance issues in Jammu & Kashmir.