Listen up, the truth’s about to drop, and I don’t sugarcoat.
Deep in the scarred ridges of Kashmir, where the Himalayas cast long, silent shadows and geopolitics trades bullets instead of words, the people are living through a grim rerun of history’s favorite Armageddon sideshow: India vs. Pakistan, Round #TooDamnMany.
You see, while New Delhi tightens its collar and Islamabad thumps its chest louder than a Bollywood villain on a sugar rush, Kashmir bleeds in the middle. Again. And no, this ain’t a metaphor — it’s shrapnel on vegetable carts, schools turned to evacuation zones, and kids counting sirens instead of sheep.
Let’s call this what it is — a geopolitical custody battle, where the child has outgrown both parents’ tantrums.
We’ve got two nuclear rivals playing chicken on a border that’s never really cooled down since 1947 — ironic, isn’t it? The year that gave me my name and gave South Asia its favorite obsession: claiming Kashmir without asking Kashmiris.
While generals flash their medals and politicians strut about with war-hardened rhetoric on prime-time, the people of Karnah, Kupwara, Uri—hell, even the pigeons up in Tangdhar—just want to know one thing: “Can we please have one week without exploding skies and dead relatives?”
But no. Peace is boring. It doesn’t trend. War? Now that’s a blockbuster. And nothing jazzes up a sluggish election season like a little border drama. Smoke, fire, and bombastic press briefings — the subcontinent’s favorite political cocktail.
Here’s the 360-degree slap in the face: Both governments claim to fight for the interests of the Kashmiri people, while simultaneously reducing them to cannon fodder. That’s like saying you love someone so much, you’ll destroy their hometown in the name of loyalty. Bravo. Five stars for emotional manipulation.
Let’s look at India’s script: Deploy more troops, silence dissent with AFSPA-shaped duct tape, hold pressers saying “normalcy has returned,” while the only thing returning is the echo of gunfire.
Pakistan? Oh, Islamabad huffs and puffs in international forums, paints itself the eternal guardian of ‘occupied Kashmir’ and yet forgets to mention the perpetual lockdown and censorship on its side of the fence too.
Spoiler alert: Nobody’s clean here. It’s muddy boots and muddier intentions all around.
But let’s not pretend this is just a cross-border squabble. This is high-level chess on a blood-soaked board. And Kashmiris? They’re the pawns, always offered in sacrifice so the kings and queens can posture for power.
Here’s your reality check: No one wants war. Not your average Indian sipping chai outside his corner shop. Not your everyday Pakistani trucker rumbling down the GT Road. Certainly not the Kashmiri family rebuilding their house for the third time.
Yet war looms. Why? Because peace doesn’t get politicians reelected. Provocation does. Nationalism does. And nothing says “vote for me” like a red-hot LOC and a prime-time bark-fest designed for dopamine, not diplomacy.
So where do we end up? Here — a land where every sunrise comes gift-wrapped in anxiety and every silence is just the breath before the next mortar.
Kashmiris aren’t asking for miracles. They’re not demanding thrones or conquests. They’re pleading for the luxury of ordinary life — school bells, wedding songs, weekends without funerals.
But until both sides stop scripting electoral theater on a landscape already dipped in history’s ashtray, the Valley will keep weeping — for sons lost, dreams buried, and peace that never seems to RSVP.
To the grandstanding governments on both sides of the border: If your obsession with soil costs this many souls, maybe it’s time to redefine patriotism.
Because war doesn’t build nations. It only fattens egos and fills cemeteries.
And last I checked, cemeteries don’t cast votes.
The game’s on, and I play to win — not with missiles, but with truth.
– Mr. 47
