Pahalgam Terror Attack | “Not empty resorts but my heart bleeds for those who won’t return,” Writes a Kashmiri Muslim

I never thought I’d have to write something like this. Pahalgam has always been a place of healing for me—a place where time slows, the rivers whisper stories, and the mountains make you feel safe. But now? That same place has become a graveyard for innocence. And the worst part? We’re not even talking about it the way we should. People are talking about how tourism will suffer, how the local economy might dip, and how hotel bookings have been cancelled. But my heart doesn’t bleed for empty resorts. It bleeds for those who will never return—for the lives lost, for families torn apart, and for the silence that follows every time a tragedy like this occurs. Lives Over Landmarks Behind every casualty is a shattered family. There’s a mother who’ll never see her child again, a child who’ll never hear their father’s voice. These aren’t just statistics in the news—they’re people. Real people. And somehow, we’ve let tourism, profit, and perception take precedence over pain. Let me be very clear: tourism is important. But not at the cost of human life. Not when we’re rushing to reopen, to “restore normalcy,” without even letting the blood dry on the ground. We Need to Talk About the Real Enemy Also Read: Bharat will identify, trace and punish every terrorist and their backers,” says PM Modi in Bihar’s Madhubani For over three decades, Kashmir has been under attack. Not by nature. Not by misfortune. But by a sustained, state-sponsored terror campaign from across the border. Pakistan-backed terrorists have spilled innocent blood under the guise of religion. From the mass exodus of Kashmiri Pandits in the ’90s to the recent targeting of Hindu tourists, the motive has always been clear: terrorise, destabilise and divide. Let me be blunt here: this isn’t just about Pakistan. The bitter truth is that these terrorists have support from some among us. Yes, among us—local collaborators, OGWs (Over Ground Workers), who act as informers, hide terrorists, and help them execute their bloody plans. It’s treachery—and it’s killing our people. Enough hiding behind diplomacy. Enough with appeasement. We must call it what it is: jihad-driven, ideologically fueled terrorism. And the support system it thrives on must be dismantled. Pahalgam’s Blood Will Not Be Forgotten I can’t stop thinking about what happened—about how fragile life is, and how quickly we move on. One moment you’re admiring the snow, the next you’re ducking for cover. And for what? For a twisted vision of “Khilafat” built on blood? No more. We can’t just protest with hashtags. We need action on the ground—security reform, accountability, justice. And we need to stand with those who’ve lost everything. Let’s Stop the PR Campaign I’ve seen the tweets. The influencers. The tourism boards trying to spin the story: “Kashmir is safe, please keep visiting.” But right now, what Kashmir needs is not a PR makeover. It needs mourning. It needs justice. It needs answers. We must ask: who failed these victims? Were there lapses? Were people warned? And if not, who will be held accountable? We Need to Reclaim the Narrative We are not just a land of lakes and mountains. We are a people—resilient, diverse, and united by pain. And we will not let our pain be turned into a sales pitch. Let the Government act. Let the media speak truth to power. Let the public stop romanticising a place without acknowledging its wounds. What Now? Investigate and hold accountable everyone involved—from the masterminds across the border to the local enablers. Support the families who lost loved ones—not just with money, but with dignity, with voice, and with real justice. Reform our security approach. It’s not enough to react. We need to prevent. We need surveillance, intelligence, community support. Stop covering up. Don’t sanitise the headlines. Let people know the truth. Let the world see the cost of silence. Stand united—Hindu, Muslim, Sikh, Christian—Kashmir belongs to all of us. And if we don’t fight this together, we all lose. This isn’t a political piece. This is personal. It comes from a place of deep hurt and a deep love for Kashmir. I don’t want more headlines. I want change. I want peace that isn’t paid for in blood. So yes, my heart bleeds for Pahalgam. Not for cancelled vacations or bad optics. But for the people who died when they should have been safe. Let their names echo louder than any slogan. Let their memory be the beginning of something real. Because if we don’t stand now, when will we?