Wasik Murtaza
The serene beauty of Pahalgam, known for its breathtaking beauty, turned into a horror scene on 22 April 2025. Pahalgam which was famous for peace and beauty became the victim of one of the darkest tragedy in the recent history, when a group of gunmen opened fire on non-local Tourists belonging to different parts of India. In this attack they killed 26 innocents and left dozens wounded.
While the headlines quickly captured the brutality of the attack, the aftermath — like always — fell hardest on those who had nothing to do with it: the common people of Kashmir.
The group behind the attack is believed to be The Resistance Front (TRF), a a wing of Militants of Lashkar-e-Taiba, targeted Hindu tourists and foreign visitors. Their purpose of attack seems simple, which is killing non-locals and put the valley on unrest and unfortunately they succeed.
The immediate blow was felt by the tourism sector, the very heartbeat of Kashmir’s economy. Hotels that were fully booked for the summer season now wear a deserted look. Shikarawalas, pony riders, tour guides — thousands who depend on tourists for their daily bread — have been left stranded overnight. Dreams of a normal summer season, crushed yet again.
Security forces have responded with intensified crackdowns. House searches, street checks, demolitions — all in the name of national security. But for the everyday Kashmiri, this means living under a cloud of suspicion, where a knock on the door could shatter the thin veil of normalcy they cling to.
And then , there are Kashmiri students who are pursuing education in the different colleges and university of India are going through abuses and harassment by mobs for doing absolutely nothing, they neither have any role in this attack nor any link with attacker.
Some of them have locked themselves in hostels or flats and some are told to not remain outdoors after the evening. Their only crime is being Kashmiri at this very wrong time.
Economically, the situation is just as grim. With cross-border trade frozen and diplomatic ties hitting new lows, local businesses — especially those involved in handicrafts and agriculture — are staring at a bleak future. Hopes of financial recovery that were beginning to sprout have been nipped in the bud.
The attack has also deepened the communal fault lines within the valley and beyond. Suspicion has replaced trust, anger has replaced patience. For a region that once prided itself on its rich, shared culture, this widening divide is perhaps the most painful scar.
Global leaders have condemned the attack in strong words, but such statements mean little to the ordinary Kashmiri struggling to navigate curfews, joblessness, and social alienation. What the world often misses is that every act of violence here leaves a thousand invisible wounds — on students, on shopkeepers, on farmers, on dreamers.
It is cruel irony that while militants chant slogans of ‘liberation’ in Kashmir’s name, it is the Kashmiri people who are shackled further — in fear, in poverty, and in lost opportunities.
Pahalgam’s bloodied meadow is not just a crime scene. It is a reminder of how Kashmir’s pain is renewed, again and again, by forces both external and internal. And as always, amid the noise of politics and power, the voice of the common Kashmiri — the one who simply wants to live with dignity — is drowned out.