Blood in the valley: How Pakistan's strategic jihad betrayed Kashmiriyat again

Time of India

23-04-2025

Mudasir Dar is a social and peace activist based in South Kashmir. He is a Rashtrapati Award recipient in world scouting and has contributed to many local and national publications on a diverse range of topics, including national security, politics, governance, peace, and conflict. LESS ... MORE
The serene atmosphere in Pahalgam on April 22nd 2025 was transformed into a dreadful nightmare when a gruesome act of violence occurred. Mass killing of innocent families was orchestrated which resulting in the death of twenty-eight tourists—men, women, and children, in a calculated manner. It is chilling to note that this unthinkable and repugnant act was done simply because the victims held the misconception that Kashmir was regaining stability and the alluring valley that was ruthlessly conflicted was soothing and recovering.
The massacre wasn't executed merely for the sake of killing. It was done to propagate specific ideology—a violent agenda containing pseudo-religious reasoning. This was not created within the woods of Kashmir, rather in the battle strategizing rooms of Rawalpindi. With this strategy, the bloody actuality becomes even clearer. For instance, the core of it all is exposed when looking extremally close to the heart of Pakistan's army, Asim Munir. The man seems to be the only living human without empathy—who combines spirituality and militaristic sovereignty and inverse of love.
Seeing this brutality as an outbreak divorced from the context of history is to misinterpret history profoundly. Pahalgam is all too familiar with the pain that comes with bleeding wounds. Terrorists had once attacked pilgrims near Pahalgam, leaving 32 dead in 2000. In 2002, yet another attack was launched on yatris in Anantnag. And the common thread? Civilians. Non-perpetrators. Peace ful and pluralistic Indians alongside tourists – the very essence of India's composite nationalism.
This pain, both strategically and symbolically orchestrated, is planned. It exists within an extensive strategic plan – a continuum of Pakistan's hybrid warfare doctrine which intertwines religion with insurgency, jihad with borders, and creates a false narrative of rebellion where there, in truth, is none.
This latest attack must be seen as doctrinal terrorism, especially because it happened just days following General Munir's incendiary speech at the Overseas Pakistani Convention. When a serving general quotes martyrdom, the defense of Kalima, and the metaphysical imperative to wage 'sacred struggle,' it is none of those things—it is operational signaling. In Pakistan, military grammar constructs jihad not only as personal; it is also policy.
There is a Munir focus, steeped in scholarly Quranic remnants and the synthesis of Zia-ul-Haq Islam, which seems to fuel history's myopic fury. It also seems to bring additional post-theological zealotry to Pakistan's already militarized institutions. The notion of Pakistan being viewed as a 'strategic depth' for qualifying Islamic resurgence is now being reanimated.' In this captivating vision, the valley is not simply region—it is drenched in a prophesied narrative that reframes capital punishment: 'liberation' or ruthless reckoning.
Yet, the most profound scar is reserved for those unassuming travelers. They set foot on the Kashmiri land as tourists, aiming to witness saffron blossoms, under gaping through pine-covered ridges, and partaking in kehwa sipping under the Chinar trees, all devoid of the welcoming bullets and fire.
In this region, it would quintessentially morally wrong to harm a guest, but alas, this guest was targeted in the name of hospitality. In enabling them to attack not just the Indian government, but Kashmir's moral fulcrum, showed the lengths those perpetrators will go to rip apart universal kindness. Rather, they did not impersonate ordinary lunatics, but hostile ones. Kashmiriyat was singlemindedly put to rest, torn to shreds, without discrimination, burning chronicles of civility and kindness in their wake.
This transforms the attack from tragic to symbolic. The Jihadist machinery in Pakistan has systematically attacked the threads of Kashmir's connectivity with India, especially those that oppose their story. Whether it's a Kashmiri shopkeeper aiding tourists during an Amarnath Yatra or a Hindu pilgrim being sheltered by a Muslim villager, these tales inflict greater harm to Pakistan than any tank or troop ever could.
Let's not fool ourselves. The Pahalgam attack is just the latest chapter in a long, violent strategy that began in 1947, when Pakistan sent armed raiders into Kashmir to seize it by force before it could lawfully join India. What we saw in 1948, 1965, 1971, and again in Kargil in 1999 weren't just failed wars—they were repeated failures to accept reality and abandon a dangerous fantasy.
During the '90s this fascination was given a makeover and rebranded as 'bleeding India with a thousand cuts' in the era of Zia and then Musharraf. LEJ and JEM were not stray entities; they had a nurtured state sponsored ideology of arms, theology, and political legitimacy. They wiped out both Hindus and Muslims. They expelled the Pandits. They torched educational institutions. They stifled literary poets. What they sought was not freedom, it was terror induced purity.
While the ideology may have changed, its root purpose remains the same: turn Kashmir into a region that cannot be inhabited, governed, or restored, not for the people of Kashmir, but for the concept of India. This ideologgy seems to be waning today. A new discourse has developed, though not without its problems; certainly, it is sharper in aim and focus. After assembly elections, there is a 'trickle down' effect of investment and participation from the grassroots level. Young men from erstwhile 'no-go' villages like Lelhar and Karimabad are organizing Tiranga rallies. Hijab-clad girls are becoming IAS officers. This is the change which Pakistan truly fears.
Because the success of Kashmir is wholly inconsistent with the Two Nation Theory – Pakistan's founding fable – and renders it useless. Every Kashmiri Muslim thriving within the Indian democracy serves as a direct danger to the ideological backbone of the Islamic Republic. And every tourist who dares to feel safe spending time in Kashmir is an affront to the terror narrative. This is why the attack happened. Not because of strength, but out of desperation. That was Pakistan's strategic scream amid its fraying fantasy.
India should mourn, yes, but with a resolve. These twenty-eight lives cannot just be numbers—these must be emblems of a profound awakening. This is the moment to be diplomatically daring. We cannot simply scrutinize busts as here say; we must reveal Munir's declarations for what they are—acts of sponsored extremism—on international stages. The glare of scrutiny, particularly from Western nations who financially support Pakistan's stricken economy while masquerading as peacemakers, needs to witness the consequences of their complacency.
However, we must also protect the heart of Kashmir. Refrain from directing any form of retribution toward the helpless Kashmiris who, like the deceased, are victims of terrorism. Let the narrative of healing, unity, and resistance be forged adorned with positive hues. If we chose to be hateful in our mourning, we grant them the power they want—the power to manipulate our actions.
The Baisaran will shine again, and the Chinars will bloom again too. But even then, the wound of Pahalgam will not fade too soon…and nor should it. Let it remind us of the costs of ideological appeasement. Let it strengthen our resolve against those who wish to carve this land into pieces with the help of rifles and religion. And let it be heard across every valley and village that Kashmir's destiny does not rest in dictatorial theocracy—but in democracy, dignity, and peace.
Let the blood that was spilled in Pahalgam nourish the tree of hope. Let the world be informed, 'Kashmiris have chosen life,' and, 'India will defend that decision—through history, justice, and when needed, war.'
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Views expressed above are the author's own.