Echoes Of Mourning From Pahalgam Attack

The afternoon sunlight filtered softly down on Baisaran Valley in Pahalgam—India라이브 바카라 mini Switzerland. It was 2:40 pm on April 22. Honeymooners Lieutenant Vinay Narwal, 26, and Himanshi Sowami were eating bhel puri while admiring the white-tipped mountain peaks. Soon after, a man in army gear shot Narwal.

He was one of the 26 tourists who were shot dead by four men wearing army gear that day. Seventeen others were injured. The terror attack—the worst involving civilians since the 2017 Amarnath Yatra massacre—has reignited calls for war with Pakistan, exposed security gaps in the Valley, and above all, left the families of 26 victims angry and heartbroken.

The government machinery swung into action soon after—Home Minister Amit Shah visited the site of the terror attack and vowed swift action; on April 23, police released the sketches of the suspects; a manhunt ensued. But the families of those who lost someone say all this is not going to bring back their loved ones.

Days after the attack, funerals followed—from Karnal to Kanpur, Kolkata to Mumbai. At each crematorium, a uniformed officer or a city mayor offered folded flags, honours and orations, apologising for security failures and promising justice. Caught amid the solidarity gestures broadcasted live were family members who were trying to make sense of the sudden tragedy as well as the spotlight that followed them to crematoriums. Each action was captured—Srishti Narwal라이브 바카라 trembling hands with which she lit her brother Vinay라이브 바카라 funeral pyre, Kolkata-based Bitan Adhikari라이브 바카라 final journey and eighteen-year-old Richa Mone라이브 바카라 lone march through silent Dombivli streets, mourning her father.

Grief-stricken Family Remembers Narwal

Dressed in a white kurta-pyjama, Rajesh Narwal appeared to float through the duties of a host during his son라이브 바카라 funeral on April 24. At one point in time, he was animatedly describing to a relative how Narwal was shot dead, but mostly he was numb with grief.

Their home in Karnal was filled with relatives, well-wishers from Vinay라이브 바카라 neighbourhood, and his village a few miles away, his college friends and his Navel cadre. Everyone who knew the 26-year-old Lieutenant was red-eyed and in shock—a testament to how beloved he was. “I’ll miss everything about him; everything,” his father says. His eyes threatened to tear up but since he was surrounded by cameras, he chose to remain strong for his family. However, two days later, while immersing Narwal라이브 바카라 ashes into the river in Haridwar, the grieving father wept inconsolably.

Seema Verma, Narwal family라이브 바카라 neighbour for 17 years, remembers Vinay as a chubby, bright-eyed boy with apple-blossom cheeks, who would come over to learn Science from her. “When we moved in, he was in Class 5 or 6 at St Kabir Convent. My younger daughter and his sister, Srishti, were in the same class. Even then, he was determined—running rounds in our park, be it evening or afternoon, to lose weight and fit the Navy라이브 바카라 standards,” she recalls.

Verma라이브 바카라 husband Sunil shares that Vinay was particularly close to his grandfather Hawa Singh, a retired police officer, as both bonded over their need to be of service to others. Sunil was Vinay라이브 바카라 Maths tutor in the last few years of school and described him as an “excellent and hardworking boy.”

Vinay had passed the NDA exams twice before finally joining the Indian Navy. He stood at 5 feet 9 inches, with broad shoulders. His friends and family called him Veer—brave. Last October, he proposed to Himanshi Sowami, a doctoral scholar, in Mussoorie. They married on April 16. It was a long wedding with dozens of functions, each more elaborate and joy-filled than the last, recalls Seema.

“They were so in love, the couple,” she says, adding, “And the whole family: I was so impressed by how much they liked being around each other and celebrating.”

Initially, Vinay and Himanshi were to honeymoon in Switzerland, but visas did not work out. Vinay라이브 바카라 mother Asha Narwal was keen that the couple stayed back a few days in Karnal to sort it out, but Vinay was on leave from his naval post in Kochi. “He told Asha ji that there will be time when they get back,” recalls Seema. Six days after their last wedding function, the couple arrived in Kashmir for their honeymoon.

When the shots rang out, Narwal and Himanshi were hand in hand, snacking on bhel puri. Terrorists shot him in the chest in front of his new bride.

At the crematorium, Srishti, who is only a year younger than Narwal, performed the final rituals for her brother. At one point, her stoic mask cracked when faced with Haryana Chief Minister Nayab Singh Saini. “No one was there for my brother for one-and-a-half hours. If they had been there, maybe he’d be alive,” she cried at the CM, adding that she wants her brother라이브 바카라 killers “dead.”

Inside the Karnal crematorium, as the sun set and darkness engulfed the city, Shrishti라이브 바카라 voice rang clear: “How could you let this happen? Where was the Army?” she screamed at the CM. Her neighbours and Vinay라이브 바카라 friends, too, voiced the same grievance. The Vermas demanded to know how could Baisaran, a known “hot spot for tourists,” could have been left unguarded? “If army people had been there, I do not think this incident would have happened,” says Manoj Kumar, Narwal라이브 바카라 relative. “It is the biggest flaw of the government,” adds his friend Vikas Malik.

“Sob Shesh—Everything Is Over”

Forty-year-old Bitan Adhikari flew to Kolkata from Florida on April 16. He worked as a test manager at Tata Consultancy Services but came home for Poila Boishakh, the Bengali New Year. On a whim, he and his wife, Sohini Roy, 37, and their son, Hridaan, 3, got on a flight to Srinagar and arrived in Pahalgam on April 22 morning.

Hours later, when the terrorists lined up tourists by religion, they were ordered to unbutton shirts to prove they wore their sacred thread, recalls the family. Bitan did so; and they shot at him thrice. One of the bullets struck his heart, resulting in immediate death. His wife watched with her arms wrapped around their son Hridaan.

Shankar Chakrabarti, Bitan라이브 바카라 uncle, learned of the attack on TV. Fearing the worst, he rushed Bitan라이브 바카라 aging parents to Kolkata airport. When the names of Adhikaris flashed across news channels, the family collapsed. 

Back in Kolkata, the city mayor and state minister received the body. At the Baishnabghata home, Bitan라이브 바카라 septuagenarian parents were inconsolable. “Sob Shesh,” they cried—“everything is over”. Bitan was the family라이브 바카라 sole provider, sending money monthly for food and medicines. West Bengal라이브 바카라 chief minister sanctioned Rs 10 lakhs ex gratia, but Bitan라이브 바카라 death has left an immeasurable void in his family라이브 바카라 lives.

Three Cousins, One Fate

Three maternal cousins from Dombivli—Hemant Joshi (52), Atul Mone (42) and Sanjay Lele (47)—set out for Kashmir with wives and children, believing this to be another family holiday.

Hemant, a shipping logistics executive, was known to his neighbours for his warm demeanour. They say he never failed to greet them with hot cups of tea and warm smiles. Atul, a senior section engineer with Central Railways, was the planner of the family—he had spent weeks working out how to get everyone on board for this trip. Sanjay, a logistics manager, had a creative streak and relished playing tabla on quiet afternoons. Their bodies arrived on April 24 at Bhagshala Maidan for a candlelit vigil. Dusk fell on Dombivli when the three coffins arrived from Srinagar. Across the neighbourhood, schoolchildren wore black bands; neighbours lit lamps in their memory.

Eighteen-year-old Richa Mone remembers hiding when Atul, her father, fell after a hail of bullets. “He asked if we were Hindu,” she told reporters. “Then they shot him right in front of me. I couldn’t do anything.” Sanjay, Harshal라이브 바카라 son, braved panic and fear to carry his wounded mother to safety. Dombivli라이브 바카라 tight-knit lanes are wallpapered with condolence banners and photos of the three cousins. The cousins’ dreams—for temples, treks, time together—ended in a mindless act of terror.

Avantika Mehta in Karnal, Trisha Majumder in Kolkata and Jinit Parmar in Mumbai