After covering wars in Syria, Ethiopia, Sudan, Russia-Ukraine and Israel라이브 바카라 wars in Lebanon and Gaza—witnessing missiles and mortars flying overhead and entire neighbourhoods turned to rubble—it can be safely concluded that South Asia is perhaps the only region where ordinary people morph into instant experts on war strategy—all from their living rooms.
This may not be limited to war strategy alone. It appears the strength of both India and Pakistan is not drawn from their nuclear arsenals or claims of being the world라이브 바카라 largest democracy or even mango exports—but from their uncanny ability to advise on just about anything, from prescribing medication to the critically ill, explaining virus mutations, to correcting cricket techniques, all while lounging in their baniyans.
A news alert pops up—“Missiles fired near border”—and within minutes, your barber is explaining ballistic trajectories between snips. He’ll explain why Multiple Independently Targetable Re-entry Vehicles (MIRVs) are superior to conventional bombs, backing it up by citing a cousin in the Air Force (who, as it turns out, works in accounts).
“Arrey bhai, you don’t understand,” says a friend, whose primary military credential is watching Border and Uri 10 times. “India should have struck the ammunition dump first, not the barracks.”
When Indian missiles reportedly rained down on nine locations in Pakistan, hitting alleged terror infrastructure from Bahawalpur to Muridke near Lahore, a WhatsApp group in a South Delhi residential society went ablaze. Auntie in our neighbourhood was unimpressed with the strike라이브 바카라 precision. The building, she noted, was still intact. None of the deceased wore uniforms, which left her sceptical.
She was particularly disheartened to learn that the missile had followed a parabolic arc rather than a vertical dive. “The missile needed to be dropped straight on the building,” she wrote in the WhatsApp group, with an air of strategic finality.
Every time tensions rise between India and Pakistan—a skirmish at the Line of Control (LoC), a missile misfire or a full-blown airstrike—both nations undergo a bizarre transformation.
Shopkeepers become strategists. Rickshaw drivers turn into rocket scientists. Housewives evolve into geopolitical analysts. And before the defence spokesperson라이브 바카라 first press conference concludes, everyone knows precisely what the Prime Minister and Army Chief should have done.
You know the situation is grave when even the paanwala begins his day with, “Bhai saab, this was not the correct target. We should have hit their oil depots near Multan.”
One such character took to social media, urging the Indian Air Force to strike Thokar Niaz Baig in Multan, which she claimed harboured anti-India elements. She promptly deleted the post when corrected that Thokar Niaz Baig is in Lahore, not Multan.
Mr Sharma from Lajpat Nagar, an LIC agent by day and strategist by night, advised the Indian Army라이브 바카라 deployment strategy near Jaisalmer.
“If I were General,” he begins solemnly, “I’d have mobilised the BrahMos missiles from the northeast, not the west. That would have caught them off guard.”
He doesn’t stop there: “We should use hypersonics. Just like Russia. First, we need to hack their drones. My son knows hacking.”
In Pakistan, a tailor from Sialkot posted a thread on Twitter explaining why “Indian radar is weak in winter,” citing “fog advantage” and referencing Call of Duty as his primary source.
While real-life military chiefs calculate risks and consider complex geopolitical consequences, our desi generals-on-SIM-card offer gloriously simplified solutions: “Why not just nuke Karachi and finish the story?”
“Bro, if we drop a nuclear bomb on Delhi, their missiles will jam because we hacked them.” “We should send a surgical strike via the Nepal border—ultimate pincer move.”
One man on Indian Twitter even suggested India deploy a “reverse missile”—one that bounces back if intercepted. Physics, evidently, would oblige.
Friends in Pakistan report it라이브 바카라 no different across the border. On one Pakistani TV channel, a Chaudhry Sahab in Faisalabad who sells tractor spare parts was confidently instructing the army on how to fire the Shaheen-III missile, convinced it would strike Bengaluru with pinpoint accuracy.
“Why are we wasting time? Fire one and finish it,” he declared.
They may have failed high school physics, but their patriotism is loud. And their lack of knowledge? Immaculate.
In Pakistan, a viral Facebook post claimed India라이브 바카라 missile strike failed because “our soldiers recited Surah Yaseen in unison”. The post had more likes than Pakistan라이브 바카라 entire tank inventory.
And this phenomenon isn’t limited to the ill-informed WhatsApp aunties and uncles. In 2016, following India라이브 바카라 surgical strikes, an editor known for his strategic coverage, flew to Srinagar, drew the LoC through Dalgate, and aired a one-hour programme with a retired army colonel. He confidently live-streamed his plan to “invade up to Muzaffarabad in 17 hours”.
When a senior Indian journalist known for covering the Kargil War tweeted about the “destruction” of the Karachi Port, I reached out to an ex-colleague who now lives in Karachi. He was waiting outside a restaurant for his turn to get nihari for dinner.
In that queue, someone casually remarked, “Modi will do another strike before elections.” Another added, “Imran Khan already predicted it. India has become bold since he was jailed.” A woman murmured, “War is profitable. The arms industry wants it.” The discussion could have gone on, but my friend라이브 바카라 turn to take the nihari had arrived.
Meanwhile, the real soldiers—exhausted, anonymous, far from Internet fame—continue risking their lives without TikTok strategy guides. As people online root for escalation, the real casualties suffer quietly in border villages.
They have no clue what war actually means. One only needs to see the road from Aleppo to Homs in Syria—neighbourhoods destroyed, children displaced, soldiers buried with honour and forgotten by the following week.
In this festival of uninformed overconfidence, actual military veterans and credible analysts urging restraint are treated with suspicion. “Yeh toh unka banda hai,” someone scoffs, dismissing a retired officer라이브 바카라 caution. “He라이브 바카라 just scared. We should hit them hard.”
Diplomats counselling restraint are branded cowards. Journalists asking questions are labelled traitors. And anyone who dares suggest that war isn’t a video game is drowned in a flood of accusations: “So what, should we just sit quietly? Are you anti-national?”
It라이브 바카라 the same mindset that turns a flu into a cancer diagnosis via Google, or converts a minor batting slump into a match-fixing scandal. We live in a time where knowing is optional, but opining is mandatory.
There is little awareness that one assassination—of Archduke Franz Ferdinand—plunged the world into World War I, killing between 5 and 22 million and wounding another 23 million.
World War II, which began in 1939 after a Nazi unit staged an attack on a German radio station in Gleiwitz near the Polish border, resulted in 50-55 million civilian and 21-25 million military deaths.
The situation in India and Pakistan has descended to such an abyss that few politicians today understand the real costs of war. In the past, during crises like the Parliament attack, the hijacking of IC-814, or the 2008 Mumbai attacks, there were leaders capable of steering the ship away from full-blown war.
When an official once suggested to Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee that the hijacked plane could be blown up in Lahore or Dubai for diplomatic leverage, Vajpayee firmly rebuked the idea. He refused to sacrifice 300 lives for international applause.
Perhaps it라이브 바카라 time for the subcontinent to step back from its living-room war fantasies and learn the lessons history has screamed at us. War is not a television spectacle or a Twitter thread. It라이브 바카라 not about likes, hashtags, or WhatsApp forwards. Real war means real deaths, real loss and real consequences—none of which can be undone by bravado or armchair strategy. Before the next missile alert turns the region라이브 바카라 drawing rooms into battlefields, perhaps it라이브 바카라 worth remembering: peace, though quieter, requires the greatest courage of all.
(Views expressed are personal)
Iftikhar Gilani is a journalist currently based in Ankara, Türkiye
This article is part of 바카라라이브 바카라 May 22, 2025 issue, ‘Is This War?’, covering the tense four-day standoff that brought India and Pakistan to the brink of war. It appeared in print as 'Living War Rooms'.
