Enough is Enough: Terrorism has bled us again, and This Time, It's Personal

Terrorism—a permanent, festering wound on the soul of humanity—has once again bared its fangs. On April 22nd, a group of cowardly militants carried out one of the most barbaric and unforgivable acts in recent memory. Twenty-eight innocent lives were brutally taken—not soldiers, not politicians, not even locals caught in the wrong place at the wrong time—but tourists, visitors who had come in peace, to admire the valley, to spend money, and to feed the very economy that sustains that land.

This was not just another terror attack. This was a message of hate, drenched in blood and savagery. This time, the limits weren’t just crossed—they were obliterated. These killers didn't ask for identification; they asked for religion. “Are you Hindu or Muslim? Can you recite the Kalma?” they barked—before humiliating the men, checking their faith by force, and executing them without remorse. Is this what humanity has come to? Is this what Kashmir, once lovingly called ‘Heaven on Earth,’ is now reduced to—a graveyard for peace?

There is no denying it—India is burning with grief and rage. A collective lump sits in the throats of 1.4 billion citizens. We are heartbroken, we are livid, and we are demanding answers. Time and again, we’ve been told things are under control. But if tourists, families, and children can be hunted like animals on a leisure trip, then clearly, something is terribly broken. Pulwama, Uri, the target killings of Kashmiri Pandits, and now this… how many more horrors must we endure before we wake up to the glaring truth?

The question must be asked—what did these terrorists hope to achieve? Was it just the killing of Hindus? Was it to terrify the nation? If so, they’ve only revealed their desperation and inhumanity. The aftermath is already visible: more than 90% of travel plans to Kashmir have been cancelled, and with it, the very lifeblood of the region's economy has been choked. But beyond the numbers lies the trauma, the sheer terror in the eyes of survivors, and the silence of the families who are now mourning.

In swift retaliation, the Indian government has shown resolve—revoking the Indus Waters Treaty, expelling Pakistani diplomats, and tightening the diplomatic noose. But let’s be clear: these gestures, however strong, cannot cleanse the pain etched in the hearts of the bereaved. How do you console a child who saw their father shot dead? How do you calm a mother whose son died because he couldn’t ‘recite a Kalma’?

Another dark cloud now looms—was the holy Amarnath Yatra the actual target? With the attack happening so close to Pahalgam, is this an attempt to spread fear and disrupt the spiritual heartbeat of Hindu India? If so, let it be known—we are a resilient people. We will not be shaken. Our devotion will not be extinguished by bullets, and our unity will not be torn apart by those hiding behind religion.

But we must also look inward. Seven terrorists, including two locals, with access to arms, ammunition, and even army uniforms, roamed freely. Where was the intelligence input? Where were the patrols? Why was there no security in a tourist hub? These aren't just operational lapses; they are shameful betrayals of public trust. We failed our people, and no amount of compensation or press conferences can deny that.

It’s time to admit that "kadi ninda" (strong condemnation) is nothing but a ceremonial phrase now. We don’t need statements. We need strikes. We need results. We need to erase these monsters from existence. Let the world know—we are a peace-loving nation, but not a weak one. India will rise not just to mourn, but to avenge. Not with blind rage, but with strategic ferocity and unforgiving resolve.

And to those still mouthing the hollow phrase, “Terrorism has no religion,” let us remind them—terrorism may be a method, but the ideology that fuels it is unmistakable. There is a pattern, a code, and an allegiance behind every bullet fired in the name of hate. It’s time to name it, shame it, and destroy it.

To the families of the 28 victims—we are sorry. We are angry. We are heartbroken. But most of all, we promise—this will not be forgotten. Your loved ones will not become another statistic. Their blood cries for justice, and justice will be served.

India must now rise—not just in pain, but in purpose. Let there be no safe haven for those who celebrate death. Let our resolve be louder than their bullets. Let our revenge be the end of their existence.