The smell of blood once again taints the valleys of Kashmir. This time, it is the lush green meadows of Pahalgam that witnessed the savagery of terrorists, who, emboldened by the silence of our security apparatus, turned a place of peace into a ground of massacre. Twenty-six innocent lives were extinguished on that tragic day of April 22, 2025 — lives that came to Kashmir seeking beauty, not brutality. And once again, the bitter truth confronts us: the failure to act on intelligence warnings directly paved the path for this gruesome slaughter.
Intelligence inputs were not lacking. The warnings were clear. Communications from handlers sitting comfortably across the Line of Control had been intercepted. Phrases like “large impact” and “civilian gathering” echoed in intercepted messages. Yet, in the very place where danger was mapped, tourists roamed freely — unguarded, unprotected, unprepared. A calculated failure unfolded, not merely of systems, but of leadership and will.
The terrorists came prepared — M4 carbines, AK-47s, military fatigues, helmet cameras recording their inhumanity in real-time. They chose their targets carefully. They demanded their victims recite Islamic verses. Those who couldn’t, they slaughtered. Men were checked for signs of circumcision; religious identity determined the fate of life and death. These were not random killings; they were targeted acts of hatred designed to send a chilling message across India.
And what was the state apparatus doing? Waiting. Watching. Perhaps hoping against hope that the warnings would not manifest into an attack. The truth is harsher — our failure to act empowered these monsters. The Baisaran Valley, supposed to open to tourists two months later, was thrown open early, without even informing security forces. Who took that decision? Who gambled with the lives of citizens for the sake of tourism revenue or political optics?
The aftermath of the Pahalgam attack is being played out with the usual routine: condemnations, high-level meetings, and statements promising ‘justice.’ But justice for whom? For the dead, whose families have been shattered forever? For the tourists who trusted the state to keep them safe? Justice demands accountability. And accountability demands we answer some hard questions without the luxury of bureaucratic spin.
The National Investigation Agency (NIA) has already identified the hand of Pakistani terror groups — Lashkar-e-Taiba (LeT), Jaish-e-Mohammed (JeM), Hizbul Mujahideen — working in concert. But identifying the enemy outside is only half the battle. The bigger enemy is the rot within: the complacency, the hubris, and the chronic inability to connect the dots when it matters the most.
The Resistance Front (TRF), the ISI’s hand puppet, initially claimed responsibility, only to retract later, hilariously blaming a ‘communication breach.’ Their attempts to spin narratives only further expose the deep-rooted malice and manipulation in Pakistan’s terror networks. Yet, their duplicity would have meant nothing if we had fortified our defenses, if we had acted on what we knew was coming.
Hindus were deliberately targeted, a fact that the mainstream narrative will try its best to sanitize under the garb of ‘secular reporting.’ But there is no running away from the reality that this attack was communal in nature, aimed at sparking communal fires across India.
And then there’s the uncomfortable comparison to Pulwama. In 2019, intelligence warnings about an impending suicide attack on CRPF personnel were ignored. Forty jawans paid with their lives. Promises were made, reforms were discussed, but here we are again in 2025, burying our dead, reading intercepted chats post-mortem, and issuing fiery statements that terrorists will be “punished.”
We don’t need statements. We need systemic change.
The bitter irony is that while the nation bleeds, politicians will squabble over who failed more, bureaucrats will shield their inefficiencies, and think-tanks will pontificate from their cozy studios. Meanwhile, across the border, terror factories will continue churning out foot soldiers, and sleeper cells within will plot the next massacre, knowing well that our structures crack under the weight of their audacity.
Pahalgam should not become another chapter to be forgotten until the next body count. If we truly seek to honor the victims, we must abandon our addiction to damage control and embrace a culture of prevention. Intelligence must not merely be gathered; it must be acted upon. Warnings must not be filed away; they must trigger deployment, deterrence, and decisive action. Administrative lapses must not be protected; they must be punished, irrespective of political cost.
The most dangerous illusion we can entertain is that Kashmir is ‘normal.’ The faces behind the guns may change, but the ideology driving them remains the same — an ideology that loathes India, its diversity, its freedoms, and its future. Those who were murdered in Pahalgam were not just tourists; they were symbols of a pluralistic India the terrorists seek to destroy.
The security forces on the ground, many of whom risk their lives daily, deserve better leadership. Intelligence officers who intercept threats deserve mechanisms that guarantee their warnings translate into tangible action. And every Indian citizen, irrespective of religion or region, deserves the right to life without fear of being gunned down while on vacation.
Let Pahalgam be the last time we mourn because of our own negligence. Let it be the first time we demand and enforce accountability at every level — military, intelligence, political, and administrative. Because if we do not learn, if we do not act, the next massacre is not a question of if — it is only a matter of when.
The blood of Pahalgam cries out not just for justice, but for a national awakening
