A Letter From Kashmir | Pahalgam Attack

Dear,

I am writing this with a heart heavier than ever before. I have cried. I have shouted. I have walked alone in silence, and none of it is enough to express the rage and sorrow I feel after what happened in Pahalgam. Our beloved land is once again drenched in the blood of innocents. 

Our meadows, once filled with laughter, now echo with gunfire. Our skies, once blue with hope, are now dark with smoke and helplessness.

How long after all? How long will we keep paying the price of crimes we never committed? How long will we carry the burden of someone else라이브 바카라 hatred, someone else라이브 바카라 war, someone else라이브 바카라 politics? How long will we bury our friends, our families, our dreams while those responsible sip tea in safe havens across the border? 

I am furious. I am exhausted. I am done watching. I am done staying quiet. The youth of Kashmir, the children of this land who grew up in curfews and chaos, must rise. This time not with stones, not with guns, but with our truth, our fire, our words and our courage.

I want to go to the United Nations. I want to stand in front of the world and scream. I want to tell them that the generals and politicians of Pakistan have destroyed our culture. They took our music, our festivals, our warmth, our dignity, and they filled our homes with graves and our hearts with fear. They took our economy and replaced it with ashes. They took our stories and turned them into headlines soaked in terror. They stole our name and made it synonymous with violence.

We are not terrorists. We are not radicals. We are artists. We are farmers. We are dreamers. We are lovers of mountains and poetry. Yet we suffer every day because of a disease nurtured across the border.

I want to shout from the rooftops that this land belongs to us, not to their proxy wars, not to their guns, not to their ideology that poisons young minds and crushes old hearts. 

We want to live, not just survive. We want to build, not mourn. We want a future, not just memories.

Tell me, when will we rise together? When will we say enough? When will we become the generation that ends this curse?

I know your heart breaks like mine. I know your soul burns too. And I know that we cannot wait anymore.

With a storm inside me,

Tabish

(Views expressed are personal)

(Mohammad Tabish, a Chevening Scholar from Kashmir, is a policy professional with a focus on social welfare and child protection.)