The Weekly Vine Edition 39: The horror of Pahalgam

Time of India

23-04-2025

Nirmalya Dutta's political and economic views vacillate from woke Leninist to Rand-Marxist to Keynesian-Friedmanite. He doesn't know what any of those terms mean.
It was a sorrowful week, with the events of Monday hanging heavy across India, as 28 people—mostly tourists—were brutally murdered in a terror attack in Jammu and Kashmir's Pahalgam. In this edition, we also explore why Pope Francis was so beloved, how gold is glittering like only it can, why Pete Hegseth's job is hanging by a thread, and what exactly went wrong with BluSmart.
The horror of Pahalgam
Baisaran Meadow, a postcard-perfect slice of heaven above Pahalgam, turned into a blood-soaked nightmare on April 22, as terrorists gunned down 28 tourists in the deadliest attack in Jammu & Kashmir since the abrogation of Article 370 in 2019.
The Resistance Front—a Lashkar-e-Taiba proxy backed by Pakistan's ISI—claimed responsibility. Terrorists dressed in Indian Army fatigues struck around 1:30 p.m., reportedly separating victims by faith. Survivors recounted being asked to recite Islamic verses before the gunmen opened fire at point-blank range.
What was meant to be a tranquil afternoon in the Valley's alpine heartland turned into a horror show, reminiscent of the 2000 Chittisinghpora massacre, when 36 Sikhs were killed just before President Clinton's India visit. The attack coincided with U.S. Vice President JD Vance's visit and Prime Minister Modi's diplomatic outreach in Saudi Arabia. It followed a provocative speech by Pakistani Army chief Asim Munir—an apparent attempt to revive international focus on Kashmir and frame it once more as a nuclear flashpoint.
As TOI reported: 'While security agencies have yet to form a definitive assessment, multiple intelligence officers said there were indicators that Munir's provocative address, in which he also focused on cultural and social differences between Muslims and Hindus and endorsed the 'two-nation theory', may have emboldened The Resistance Front (TRF), a proxy of LeT, which has claimed responsibility for the attack, to plan a 'spectacular strike'.
A TOI editorial aptly put it: 'The aim here is to create inflammatory rhetoric from those horrified by the deaths. Therefore, a message must go out from the highest levels of the Government of India—religion-tinged rhetoric must be avoided, not just in Kashmir, but everywhere. If this national tragedy is spun into communal venom, terrorists win. India loses.'
The People's Pope
In a world where power often hides behind marble columns and Vatican curtains, Pope Francis tore them down—not with revolution, but with a smile and a metro pass. The first Jesuit and Latin American pope, he came from the barrios of Buenos Aires, not the parlours of Rome—and it showed.
From the moment he stepped onto that balcony in 2013, chose the name Francis, and refused the papal limo, people sensed this papacy would be different. No velvet capes. No ruby slippers. Just orthopaedic shoes and a mission to bring the Church closer to the people—not just the pious, but the poor, the disenfranchised, the climate activists, the single mothers, the doubting millennials, and yes, even the lapsed Catholics who only show up at Christmas.
Francis didn't dilute doctrine—he redirected focus. 'Who am I to judge?' wasn't just a viral line. It was a worldview. He rebranded mercy as policy, theology as empathy. He kissed lepers, hugged atheists, and reminded the world that faith without kindness is just bureaucracy with incense.
He embraced modernity without selling the soul. Twitter? Yes. TikTok dances? No. But he understood the algorithm of hope. The pope who once took a selfie with teenagers became a spiritual icon in an age of influencers.
Critics called him soft. Conservatives winced. But Francis never claimed sainthood—only sincerity. And that's why, when the incense settles and the vestments are folded away, he'll be remembered not for the power he held, but for the humanity he restored.
Why gold is glittering
'There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold, and she's buying a stairway to heaven.'
— Led Zeppelin
In 2025, she might be right. Gold isn't just a symbol of wealth anymore—it's the only thing still standing while the world melts down its economies, central banks, and trust.
Crossing $3,500 an ounce and breaching ₹1 lakh per 10 grams in India, gold has gone from timeless to urgent.
Blame the sparkle on a perfect storm: Trump's second-term tariff tantrums, China's strategic hoarding, and global instability. With U.S.–China trade tensions at boiling point—tariffs as high as 125%—markets have become emotional rollercoasters. Amidst the volatility, gold offers what even Jerome Powell can't: certainty.
As the Fed buckles under political pressure and inflation rises, the dollar is no longer a safe haven—it's a floating QR code for uncertainty. Meanwhile, China is buying up gold like it's the new oil, and other central banks are following suit. This isn't about profits. It's about survival.
India, naturally, is feeling the heat. Gold imports are straining the economy, the rupee is limping, and wedding budgets are being melted into gram-by-gram recalculations.
In short: maybe not everything that glitters is gold. But right now, gold is the only glitter that counts. Or to paraphrase Bappi Da: Yaar bina chain kahan re?
Liability or Loyalty?
There's a rule in Washington: leak once and you're sloppy, leak twice and you're radioactive. But leak thrice—and you're Pete Hegseth.
Trump's Secretary of Defense has now been caught in three separate Signal chat leaks—one with Pentagon staff, another with friends, and most recently, a family group chat featuring real-time drone strike updates. If you thought WhatsApp family groups were annoying, imagine yours with live war footage.
Trump initially shrugged: 'Ask the Houthis how he's doing.' But inside the White House, loyalty is being reassessed. Not because Hegseth is disloyal—but because his loyalty now attracts subpoenas.
The Pentagon is a mess. Aides are quitting, rivals are circling, and Trump is wondering whether to stick with his Fox News pal or ditch him before the leaks drown them both.
In any normal administration, Hegseth would be gone. But in Trumpworld, loyalty is currency—until it becomes a liability.
BluSmart Woes
Once hailed as India's Tesla moment, BluSmart was the golden child of sustainable mobility. No surge pricing, no cancellations, no pollution—just quiet, clean, punctual rides. For urban India, it felt like deliverance.
But in April 2025, the electric dream short-circuited.
SEBI uncovered that BluSmart's parent company, Gensol Engineering, had misused loan funds meant for EV expansion. The Jaggi brothers—Anmol and Puneet—were accused of buying luxury apartments and golf sets instead of building a greener future. ₹42 crore for a flat, ₹26 lakh for a golf bag—perhaps they thought karma came with a 9-iron.
The SEBI report read like a thriller—shell firms, diverted funds, governance failures. By mid-April, BluSmart had suspended operations. Drivers were jobless. Regulars at IGI were stranded. And Delhi whispered: 'Yeh BluSmart bhi gaya.'
Now, its fleet is merging with Uber, and the startup that once promised a carbon-free future is dying in the arms of a corporate overlord.
It was a reminder as old as capitalism: if something sounds too good to be true, it probably is. And for the rest of us we are again stuck in the world where all our taxi drivers turn into Travis Bickle and ask: 'You talking to me?'
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