By: Mir Sajjid Hussain
On the morning of April 22, 2025, the serene hills of Pahalgam—once a symbol of Kashmir’s unmatched natural beauty—were stained by an act of senseless violence. The cowardly attack that claimed innocent lives, both local and tourist, was not only condemnable in the strongest terms but also deeply disturbing for every peace-loving Kashmiri. As a son of this soil, I was shaken—not just by the loss, but by the storm it threatened to unleash across the subcontinent.
The days that followed were tense. Rhetoric surged. Troop movements intensified on both sides of the border. There was palpable fear in the air—not just in Kashmir but across India and Pakistan. Television debates replaced facts with fury. The word “war” echoed recklessly from many quarters, forgetting that behind every conflict are lives: young soldiers, farmers, students, children. Thankfully, wisdom prevailed, and a ceasefire was agreed upon before the powder keg ignited.
I write this as a Kashmiri-Indian, who has lived through decades of conflict, curfews, and uncertainty. Each time India and Pakistan come to the brink of war, it is the people of Jammu and Kashmir—on both sides of the Line of Control—who bear the brunt first. We have seen enough graves filled, enough schools closed, enough opportunities lost to know that war is not, and never was, a solution.
The Pahalgam incident must be investigated thoroughly, and justice must be served. Those who seek to destabilize the region by spilling blood cannot be allowed to escape accountability. But at the same time, war—whether fought with bullets or words—only plays into the hands of those who thrive on conflict. The true answer lies in resilience, in collective condemnation of terrorism, and in diplomatic maturity.
The ceasefire declared after the incident is not a sign of weakness. It is a testament to strength—the strength to resist the pull of vengeance, to prioritize human life, and to protect the fragile peace that has been built brick by brick over years. For us in Kashmir, peace is not an abstract ideal; it is a daily necessity. It is what allows children to go to school, farmers to till their fields, and artisans to craft beauty from wood and wool.
It is time for both India and Pakistan to realize that sustained peace is not achieved through arms but through dialogue, development, and dignity for all people—especially in regions like Kashmir. Let the Pahalgam tragedy be the last such incident, not the first in a new series. Let us honour the dead not with revenge, but with resolve—to build a future where violence has no place in the valleys we call home.
As a Kashmiri, I do not wish to see my land remembered as a battleground. I want it to be known as a bridge—between nations, between cultures, and between hope and healing.
