A massacre unfolded in the serene meadows of Baisaran in Pahalgam, where beauty once spoke of peace and nature whispered calm. On that blood-soaked Tuesday, those whispers turned into screams. Twenty-six innocent lives—among them tourists and families—were slaughtered in cold blood by terrorists who knew exactly what they were doing. It is now one of the most horrific terror attacks to stain Kashmir's soil since Pulwama 2019. But in the face of this national tragedy, there stands a darker insult: Pakistan’s shameless denial, perverse claims, and vile attempt to brand this mass murder as an Indian political conspiracy.

This editorial is not a cry for vengeance; it is a call for clarity and courage. It is a warning to those who live in denial and a message to those who twist tragedy into theatre. The truth cannot be blurred. The dead do not lie. And the hands soaked in innocent blood point clearly across the border.

According to eyewitness survivors, the terrorists carried out the attack with chilling precision. Twenty-six people were shot dead, including a Nepali national. Several were injured. But here’s where the cruelty becomes calculated: the women and children were deliberately spared.

At first glance, this might seem like a bizarre stroke of mercy. But it isn’t. It is psychological warfare at its most brutal. Why were the women and children let go? Because dead bodies don’t speak. Dead men and women cannot recount horror. They cannot repeat the screams, the sounds of gunfire, or the terror in their hearts. But survivors can. Survivors carry the story. Survivors multiply the terror with each retelling.

The trauma doesn’t end when the shooting stops. It begins when the silence sets in. When a mother walks out of a massacre alive, she carries not relief—but memory. When a child watches their father bleed to death and is left alive, they carry not mercy—but permanent mental scars. And those survivors will go on to tell their tale a thousand times—to other women, to other children, to Kashmiris young and old. This is how terrorism travels: not just through bombs, but through memory. Not just through destruction, but through the shadows it casts.

So no, the terrorists didn’t show compassion. They showed strategy. They calculated the impact. They knew that letting survivors go meant planting seeds of fear in an entire community. This is psychological terrorism, and it is far more enduring than the sound of a single gunshot.

And now, Pakistan dares to insult the dead by calling this a "false flag operation"? That this was orchestrated by India itself, as some twisted political gimmick? The very idea is filthy, and the source of this propaganda is clear—it comes from the same state that gave us Hafiz Saeed, that shelters Masood Azhar, that breeds radicals and sends them across borders with weapons and a mission to kill. This is not a theory. This is a pattern. Pakistan's entire strategy on Kashmir is built on bloodshed and lies, and this latest denial is only a continuation of its monstrous legacy.

India, thankfully, is no longer extending the olive branch to a hand that throws grenades. The Government has responded with decisive force. The Indus Waters Treaty—one of the oldest water-sharing agreements in the world—has been suspended. Pakistani diplomats have been declared persona non grata and given a week to leave. Visa services for Pakistani nationals have been halted, and all valid Indian visas for Pakistani citizens stand revoked as of April 27, 2025. The Attari-Wagah check post has been sealed. These are not symbolic actions. These are sovereign decisions, driven by national dignity.

Let us be clear: these are not just policy reactions—they are moral necessities. A country that exports terrorism should not be allowed to import diplomacy. You cannot talk peace with a dagger at your throat. You cannot reason with a regime that celebrates death as political currency.

But this editorial is also a warning to those within our own borders who have, time and again, echoed enemy narratives. The so-called "intellectuals" who question the timing of every attack, who see conspiracy in Indian grief but never ask who pulled the trigger—shame on them. Their silence when blood is spilled, and their voices only when doubt can be sown, make them complicit in this cycle of terror.

To those who ask why there were no witnesses to the killings—we answer this: there were. The witnesses are the trembling women and children who were let go—not because the terrorists grew a conscience, but because they wanted these witnesses to be living advertisements of terror. The message was simple: “We can strike anywhere, anytime, and we want you to tell the world.”

And what does this do to the soul of Kashmir? It poisons it. It leaves scars that outlive bullets. It breeds distrust, depression, and fear in every home. Terrorists do not liberate Kashmiris—they destroy their future. And Pakistan, in claiming these murders are "staged," is not just lying—it is betraying even the Kashmiri people it pretends to support.

This is not an editorial for moderation. This is an editorial for moral clarity. For standing firm and loud against the machinery of terror. For refusing to let fear dictate policy, and for rejecting the narrative being spun by those who have lost all moral compass.

The world must stop playing the game of neutrality. There are no two sides here. There is the side of terror, and there is the side of truth. Pakistan has chosen its side—again. It must now live with the consequences. And India, wounded but unbroken, must rise as it always does—not with vengeance, but with relentless resolve.

We owe that to the dead of Pahalgam. We owe that to the children who will carry their stories. We owe it to every citizen who refuses to live in fear.

This is not just a fight for borders. This is a fight for the soul of a nation.