When 26 innocent Indians were killed in Pahalgam, the nation did not hesitate or hedge. The act was identified for what it was – terrorism – and the Indian State responded with resolve. There was no debate about domicile, no dilution of responsibility, no attempt to soften the crime with bureaucratic language. India went to war because Indian lives were taken. That response established a simple moral principle: when the lives of citizens are destroyed deliberately, the State must act decisively. Today, that same principle demands to be applied to Goa, where 25 innocent Indians lost their lives not to guns or bombs, but to corruption operating without fear or consequence. If the killing of 26 people justified war against Pakistan-backed terror, then the killing of 25 people must justify war against corruption. Anything less would suggest that some Indian lives matter more than others.
The people who died in Goa were not all Goans, but that fact is irrelevant. Terrorism does not ask for residency, and neither does corruption. Their wives, now widows, may live far from Goa, but their grief was created here. Their children may never return to this state, but their futures were destroyed by decisions taken within its system. Goa may not claim their surnames, but it must own the crime. What happened was not an accident, not misfortune, not an unforeseeable tragedy. It was a governance failure with a body count, the predictable outcome of warnings ignored, rules diluted, inspections compromised, and accountability deliberately postponed.
This is white-collar terrorism. White-collar terrorism does not arrive with slogans or threats; it arrives quietly through files, signatures, approvals, and calculated silence. It hides behind procedure and protocol, but its consequences are no different from conventional terrorism. Innocent lives are lost. Someone knew the risks, someone looked the other way, someone ensured that violations were normalised, and someone benefitted. A terrorist kills to spread fear; a white-collar terrorist kills to protect profit. One pulls a trigger once, the other pulls it repeatedly every time a law is bent or enforcement is withheld. This is not negligence dressed up as error; it is intent concealed as administration.
The most dangerous aspect of white-collar terrorism is the impunity it enjoys. There are no immediate arrests, no emergency sessions of outrage, no national mobilisation. Instead, there are condolences, compensation packages, routine suspensions, and promises of inquiry that quietly dissolve into procedure. Compensation replaces accountability, suspension replaces punishment, and silence is mistaken for stability. After Pahalgam, the Indian State did not confuse sympathy with justice. It acted, because the mass killing of Indians demanded action. In Goa, however, the response has followed a familiar and disturbing script that prioritises damage control over truth.
Prime Minister Modi, this moment demands Operation Sindhoor, not as a slogan but as a declaration of intent. Sindhoor symbolises dignity, continuity, and protection. When corruption wipes it away, the State cannot respond with half-hearted empathy alone; it must respond with force, legal and institutional. Operation Sindhoor must be a full-scale war against corruption that kills, a message that when Indian lives are lost due to deliberate negligence and systemic rot, the response will be uncompromising. This cannot be a localised exercise constrained by political convenience. It must cut through the nexus of politicians, bureaucrats, contractors, regulators, and enforcers who together convert governance into a transactional enterprise where human life becomes expendable.
If India can mobilise its strength against enemies across the border, it can mobilise its institutions against enemies entrenched within its own system. National security is not only about defending territory; it is about defending citizens, especially those who are invisible, migrant, or powerless. The 25 people who died in Goa did not die because of fate. They died because corruption operated without fear. Justice for them is not optional; it is a test of the nation. When 26 were killed, India went to war. Now that 25 innocent people have been killed, it is time to do the same, not across borders but within. Launch Operation Sindhoor, because corruption that kills is terrorism, and terrorism deserves a response, not excuses.
