Around 2–3 pm, reports of an incident in Pahalgam, in Indian-occupied Kashmir, began to filter through—and within minutes, every brigade of Indian social media was pointing the finger at Pakistan. I watched the reports pour in with growing alarm: around 2–3 pm that day—6.4 kilometres from the last checkpoint—communications abruptly went dark, and India was swift to assign blame abroad. But as an investigative journalist, one cannot help but ask: what evidence underpins such a hasty accusation? What fissures lie hidden in the official narrative?
First, consider the pattern of “fake encounters” along the Line of Control. Time and again, operations justified as responses to cross-border infiltration leave locals whispering of innocents caught in the crossfire of a larger strategic game. Then there are the tantalising yet unsubstantiated reports of an Israeli reconnaissance jet making an unscheduled appearance over Srinagar to deliver technical equipment, and claims that IED calls were not only traced to militants but to systems allegedly monitored by Indian intelligence. If accepted at face value, these details suggest more than a spontaneous attack: they imply a calculated operation designed to achieve multiple political and military objectives.
Over the past two decades, New Delhi has repeatedly trodden a familiar script: staging or timing high-profile “terror” incidents to coincide with diplomatic engagements or moments of domestic turbulence, then rushing to attribute guilt to Pakistan with minimal evidence. From the purported foiled plots during President Clinton’s 2000 visit, through the manufactured outrage of the 2008 Mumbai attacks, to the instantaneous accusations in Uri, Pathankot, and the Pulwama–Balakot escalation, each episode has followed an eerily similar sequence—sensational headlines, opaque encounters, selective leaks to compliant media, and demands for swift retaliation. The blackout in Pahalgam, arriving just as foreign delegations arrived in Delhi, appears to extend this pattern: a systematic effort to divert attention from governance failures, stoke nationalist fervour, and entrench Pakistan as a perpetual villain rather than engage in honest dialogue.
At its core, India’s swift accusation against Pakistan serves as a convenient distraction from domestic discontent. By framing the Pahalgam incident as an external conspiracy, the spotlight shifts away from economic slowdown, rising unemployment, and simmering social unrest. More alarmingly, this narrative conveniently lays the groundwork for questioning the sanctity of the 1960 Indus Waters Treaty—an agreement that underpins Pakistan’s agricultural lifeline and the well-being of millions. Threatening to disrupt transboundary water flows is nothing short of an act of war; water is not merely a resource but the artery of life for rural communities on both sides of the border.
Equally troubling is the chorus of voices within India’s own military establishment, which seem less about measured strategy than partisan zeal. Insiders allege that the Indian Army echoes the hardline stance of the ruling BJP, with dissenting perspectives all but silenced. Can it be credible that a professional military would entertain or even condone a false-flag operation merely to justify future actions against Pakistan and suppress Kashmiri aspirations? The absence of any “sane” counterpoint within the ranks should alarm those who believe in institutional neutrality.
History offers unsettling precedents. The Pulwama incident saw initial denials morph into grudging admissions; the Balakot airstrike was hailed as “befitting retaliation” yet criticised by independent analysts as disproportionate. Beyond these headline events, a shadow war of disinformation has flourished: fake NGOs, counterfeit websites, and “citizen journalists” peddle AI-generated footage, repurposed to vilify Pakistan. Mainstream Indian outlets, caught in a cycle of sensationalism and government spin, frequently abandon ethical journalism in favour of inflammatory narratives.
Meanwhile, a darker trend unfolds within India’s society. Hate crimes against Muslims, Christians, Dalits and other marginalised groups have surged under the veneer of “national security.” Reports from Kashmir Valley campuses tell of students beaten for alleged anti-state sympathies; social media platforms overflow with doctored content aired by the so-called “godi media.” If the greatest threat to India’s cohesion is not an external adversary but the rise of sectarian violence and state-endorsed vigilantism, why then resort to cross-border provocations that risk full-scale conflict rather than healing internal wounds?
Tampering with Pakistan’s water supply—whether through physical obstruction or propaganda warfare—constitutes an act of war. Pakistan will not sit idle while its most precious resource is held hostage to political expediency. Every diverted drop demands a calibrated response, and the fallout for South Asian stability would be severe. Yet here we stand, poised on the brink of confrontation, as managed truths and false flags proliferate.
What, then, will it take for cooler heads to prevail? Will the next investigative commission merely rubber-stamp the official narrative, or will it pierce the murk of politics, military ambition and media manipulation? Until independent forensic analysis, unedited communications logs and verifiable eyewitness testimony are brought to light, every citizen and journalist risks becoming complicit in a carefully orchestrated campaign of disinformation. In an age when managed truths can be as potent as any bullet, justice demands transparency—and regional peace demands nothing less.
