By: Faizan Shafi
It was just another busy working day, and like always, I was returning to my room in the evening, yearning for a moment of rest and a sigh of relief. As I settled down, my phone buzzed with an unusual flood of notifications — each carrying a common thread: #Pahalgam_Kashmir. For a moment, I hesitated, torn between the need to rest and the pull of the unknown. Curiosity and concern finally won, and as I opened the news, the words on the screen struck me like a storm, shattering the evening’s calm and flooding my heart with an overwhelming sorrow.
Today, almost a week after that tragic incident unfolded, I find the strength to put my feelings into words — words that come straight from the depths of my soul as a Kashmiri. Another heartbreak has stained the sacred soil of Kashmir. Lives brimming with dreams, hopes, and endless possibilities were cruelly and senselessly snatched away. Sitting miles away from my beloved homeland, amidst the warmth of South India where Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs, and Christians live together like a single family, embracing newcomers with love, compassion, and kindness, the weight of this grief feels even heavier.
Kashmir — my Kashmir — is a masterpiece painted by the Creator Himself. Nestled in the lap of the majestic Himalayas, it is not only a land of breathtaking landscapes but a cradle of a rich, soulful culture. The valley is a timeless symphony of history, tradition, and spirituality, where the melodious notes of the santoor drift through the crisp mountain air, and the graceful steps of the Rouf dance celebrate the spirit of togetherness. The vibrant hues of Pashmina shawls, the intricate craftsmanship of Kashmiri woodwork, and the tender aroma of traditional Kahwa tea tell stories of resilience, beauty, and heritage. Here, Sufi poetry whispers messages of unity and love, weaving together the diverse influences of Hinduism, Islam, Buddhism, and beyond, into one harmonious tapestry that the world can only admire.
With a heart that bleeds and eyes clouded with unshed tears, I raise my voice — trembling yet resolute — against the merciless slaughter of innocent souls in the sacred valley of Pahalgam. They were not strangers; they were seekers of peace, pilgrims of beauty, who had come to breathe the pure air of Kashmir, to touch its timeless magic. Yet, their dreams were shattered by bullets of hatred, and their laughter silenced forever. Their loss is not just the agony of their grieving families — it is a gaping wound carved deep into the soul of Kashmir itself, a wound that bleeds in every true Kashmiri heart. We mourn them as our own — because they were our own — brothers and sisters bound not just by humanity, but by the spirit of shared hopes and simple dreams.
To the families left behind in the cold, cruel wake of this tragedy — and to every heart across the world that aches with us — hear this: the real Kashmir weeps with you. Our mountains bow in sorrow, our rivers run heavy with grief, and our skies, once filled with songs of freedom, now carry the silent cries of a valley in mourning. We, the children of this blood-soaked soil, promise you — hatred may wound us, may break our bodies, but it will never break our spirit. Kashmir’s true spirit was and always will be one of love, not hate — of togetherness, not division. We are the proud descendants of a land where Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs, Christians, and countless others lived and loved as one family — sharing harvests, joys, sorrows, and prayers under the same compassionate sky. Even as fate scattered us across distant lands, that bond of brotherhood lives on. Every smile of acceptance, every hand of friendship we find today rekindles that eternal flame, whispering to the world that Kashmir’s soul still breathes — and it beats for unity.
To the grieving hearts today, know this — you do not mourn alone. Every tear that falls from your eyes finds a mirror in ours. From the snow-crowned peaks of the north to the warm, open arms of the southern coasts, the whole land quivers with your pain. Even the silent winds carry your sorrow, and the mountains we once sang to now echo our prayers for your strength.
Let this darkness not plant seeds of hate among us. Let it instead sow the seeds of unbreakable unity. Let the mountains of Kashmir no longer thunder with gunfire but awaken once more with the songs of birds, the laughter of children running through meadows, and the melodies of peace long overdue. Let the rivers carry not the blood of the innocent but the dreams of the living. Let the world look at Kashmir and see not a land of sorrow, but a land of resilience — a land whose spirit cannot be silenced by any storm of cruelty.
Kashmir belongs to love, to dreams, to hope — not to fear.
And together, with hands entwined and hearts unyielding, we will make it rise again.
Kashmir will rise again. Inshallah!
