The Pahalgam Massacre
Years on, the shadow of that violence still lingers over Jammu and Kashmir. What made Pahalgam particularly chilling was not only the brutality of the act, but the clarity with which it exposed the architecture behind it: cross-border planning, trained operatives, and a system of sponsorship that thrives on deniability. That architecture, by all credible indicators, remains intact.
Pahalgam was never an isolated act. Like earlier attacks across Jammu and Kashmir, it was part of a sustained pattern—one rooted in cross-border planning, state-enabled facilitation, and the use of proxy groups to maintain plausible deniability. Today, that pattern is re-emerging with disturbing clarity.
Recent intelligence inputs suggest that the Pakistan Army has reactivated nearly 70 terror launchpads along the Line of Control and the International Border, with plans to push close to 800 infiltrators into the region. This is not defensive posturing; it is structured preparation for renewed infiltration. The scale alone points to a deliberate attempt to revive a cycle of violence that has defined the region for decades.
For years, Pakistan has maintained the fiction that it is itself a victim of terrorism, even as evidence continues to point toward its role in nurturing, training, and facilitating militant networks targeting India. The reactivation of launchpads—long a key component of infiltration strategy—signals not only continuity but intent. It suggests that despite global scrutiny and repeated diplomatic pressure, the machinery of cross-border terrorism remains operational.
In recent days, reports have emerged of prominent figures linked to Pakistan’s military and intelligence establishment being seen in the company of known terrorists. Among them is Saifullah Kasuri, also known as Sajid Jatt or Habibullah Tabassum—identified as a key handler of Lashkar-e-Taiba and widely regarded as the mastermind behind the 2025 Pahalgam attack. His reported presence in cities such as Kasur, Rawalpindi, and Lahore—moving openly and even issuing threats—raises serious questions about the environment in which such figures continue to operate.
This is not the profile of a fugitive under pressure. It is the profile of an individual functioning with a degree of confidence that suggests protection, or at the very least, tolerance.
For years, Pakistan has relied on groups like Lashkar-e-Taiba and Jaish-e-Mohammed as instruments of asymmetric strategy against India. These organizations have consistently benefited from training infrastructure, logistical support, safe havens, and operational guidance—much of it linked to elements within the Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI). Testimonies from captured operatives and investigations into past attacks have repeatedly traced planning chains back to handlers based on Pakistani soil.
The continuity is impossible to ignore.
From the 2016 Pathankot attack to the 2016 Uri attack and the 2019 Pulwama attack, the template has remained consistent: cross-border facilitation, local execution, and official denial. Pahalgam fits squarely within this lineage. What current developments suggest is not a break from that past, but a continuation of it.
The reactivation of launchpads and the reported interactions between establishment-linked figures and terror operatives together paint a stark picture. They indicate that terrorism, rather than being treated as a liability, continues to be viewed as a usable instrument of policy—calibrated, deniable, and periodically reactivated.
This is what makes the present moment particularly concerning. The scale of infiltration being prepared suggests not a one-off strike, but a sustained campaign designed to stretch security forces, destabilize local conditions, and keep the region in a state of managed volatility. It is a strategy that avoids large-scale escalation while ensuring that peace never fully takes hold.
On an anniversary meant to honor victims and reflect on the cost of violence, these developments send a different message: that the conditions which enabled Pahalgam have not been dismantled. They have, instead, been preserved and repositioned.
The challenge, therefore, is not just to remember Pahalgam—but to recognize that without addressing the structures behind it, anniversaries risk becoming markers not of distance from tragedy, but of its repetition.
