One month after the Pahalgam attack claimed 26 lives and brought India and Pakistan to the brink of war, the manhunt for the perpetrators remains frustratingly inconclusive. Operation Sindoor may have delivered tactical victories elsewhere, but in the scenic valleys where tourists usually felt safe, a different reality seems to have taken hold.
The local economy has been disrupted. And the terrorists are still out there.
Armed with sophisticated weapons and ammunition, they’re believed to be lurking in the dense forest canopy of the upper Tulian Valley, having melted away from the Baisaran meadows after their calculated strike against Hindu male tourists. The National Investigation Agency questioned over 300 locals – shopkeepers, horse guides, photographers, zipline operators, and anyone who might have glimpsed the attackers’ faces or noticed their movements. Multi-agency teams have zeroed in on five prime suspects from Pakistan-based Lashkar-e-Taiba and its proxy group, The Resistance Front. Sketches have been released. A Rs 20 lakh bounty announced. Houses of the families of local suspected aides demolished. Yet the main perpetrators remain ghosts in the mountains.
What the terror attack exposed wasn’t just a security failure. It was a crack in the post-2019 narrative that Article 370’s abrogation had somehow led to stability and solved the region’s complex insurgency equation.
The security reckoning
The attack hinted at how cross-border terrorism has evolved, exploiting gaps emerging from military deployments. When troops, particularly the specialised Rashtriya Rifles counter-terrorism units, were shifted from Jammu to eastern Ladakh to counter Chinese incursions, Pakistan-based terrorists found their opening.
Colonel (retired) Shashank Ranjan, who commanded RR units in the region until 2023, says that the absence of RR forces on the ground significantly weakened the counter-terrorism grid, enabling foreign terrorists to establish safe routes and hiding spots in thick forested terrains.
The shift in infiltration patterns has been deadly. The traditional Kashmir Valley routes gave way to the once-peaceful Jammu region, where militants now operate from the mountain reaches of Rajouri and Poonch. Since 2021, nearly 50 soldiers and 20 civilians have died in this belt alone. The terrorists often come equipped with China-made encrypted communication devices, night-vision equipment, steel-core bullets, and US-made M4 carbine assault rifles – a technological sophistication that speaks to substantial backing.
But perhaps the most critical intelligence loss has been human. The pastoral Gujjar-Bakarwal community, comprising 12 percent of the Union Territory’s population, traditionally served as the Army’s eyes and ears in the rugged mountain terrain. Their intimate knowledge of the landscape and nomadic movement patterns made them invaluable sources of early warning about militant infiltration.
That relationship has soured.
Mohammad Shahnawaz Choudhary, a Gujjar Congress leader, describes a community under siege from multiple directions. “The custodial torture and killings of Gujjar youth in Shopian, Topa Peer, Kathua and Rajouri have led to a sense of betrayal among the communities for their unwavering support of the Indian establishment,” he claims.
The Modi-led government’s decision to grant Scheduled Tribe status to upper-caste Pahari communities further alienated the Gujjars and Bakarwals, who saw their reservation quotas shrinking. Add incidents of harassment by cow vigilantes and security forces, and a crucial intelligence network nearly went silent.
“Historically, the community has resisted all attempts by Pakistan and defended our country’s borders,” says advocate Guftar Ahmed, a young Gujjar leader. “They now have little to no incentive to support the security forces. As a result, these people are sitting in silence in their homes, to protect themselves and their families.”
“Gujjar-Bakarwals have actively participated with the Army in rolling back insurgency in the Jammu region. Their role in Operation Sarp Vinashin 2003 was crucial to neutralise terrorist bases in the deep forests of Hilkaka Poonch-Surankot in Jammu,” recalls Lt Gen (retd) DS Hooda, former Commander of the Army’s Northern Command. But local intelligence has taken a hit, he says, due to a weakened outreach.
The political vacuum
The security challenges are also compounded by a fundamental restructuring of power that has left the civilian leadership on the sidelines of critical decisions. When Jammu and Kashmir became a Union Territory, the centre of gravity shifted decisively to New Delhi, with the Ministry of Home Affairs directly controlling the security apparatus through Lieutenant Governor Manoj Sinha.
Chief Minister Omar Abdullah, elected in October last year, finds himself excluded from the very system designed to coordinate security responses. The Unified Command Centre, established in 1993 and traditionally led by the Chief Minister, now operates without the region’s highest elected representative. The home portfolio remains with the Lieutenant Governor, leaving J&K police management beyond the CM’s reach.
SP Vaid, former Director General of J&K Police, argues this represents a fundamental misunderstanding of counter-terrorism dynamics. During his tenure from 2016-2018, a period marked by intense home-grown militancy following Burhan Wani’s killing, Vaid credits political support as playing a part in gradually improving the situation. “The CM was an integral part of the security command and had the sole authority over key decisions, including transfers and removals. The CM’s office is connected with an expansive network of MLAs and political workers who have a deep understanding of the territorial and social issues of their constituencies."
That institutional knowledge and political connectivity has been sidelined.
Security issues are “not just about guns and bunkers”, says Tanvir Sadaiq, spokesperson of the Omar Abdullah-led government. “Countering terrorism in J&K requires a comprehensive effort along with the trust and involvement of people from the ground.”
The demographic weapon
The Pahalgam attackers didn’t choose their targets randomly. In first claiming responsibility, The Resistance Front explicitly framed the assault as retaliation against what they termed “Hindu settlers” – drawing parallels to Israeli settlements in Palestinian territories. The statement referenced 83,000 domicile certificates issued to non-locals since 2019, portraying tourism and settlement as tools of demographic engineering.
This narrative seems to have found some resonance in a valley already anxious from post-Article 370 changes. New laws allowing all Indian citizens to purchase land and settle permanently in J&K have strengthened fears of cultural and political marginalisation. The domicile certificates, granting newcomers the same rights as permanent residents for government jobs and land ownership, are widely perceived as part of a strategy to alter Kashmir’s identity.
Pakistan-backed terror groups have weaponised this anxiety with some amount of precision. Since August 2019, around 14 Kashmiri Pandits and Hindus and several non-native labourers have been systematically targeted.
Praveen Donthi of the International Crisis Group notes that while the high casualty count and profiling tactics were unprecedented, the Pahalgam attack itself wasn’t surprising: “Militants have been trying to exploit the anger and alienation on the ground. Kashmiris are unhappy and anxious about the changes in the region after the revocation of the special status.”
The trust deficit
A senior intelligence official who served during and after Article 370’s revocation acknowledges the tactical successes: cross-border infiltration, violence incidents, and casualty figures have all declined compared to the 1990s peak of militancy. “As of 2025, J&K is far more secure than in the ’90s. The government has successfully contained the internal drivers of militancy in the valley.”
But tactical gains haven’t translated into strategic success. The same official points to an oversight: “The tactical gains achieved in the aftermath of 2019 were not recalibrated to foster engagement with the Kashmiri people, festering a sense of resentment.”
The approach has remained significantly kinetic – focused on encounters, arrests, and targeting families of suspected militants. House demolitions, detentions, and continued restrictions have created what many Kashmiris experience as collective punishment rather than security.
Former Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee’s approach of “Kashmiriyat, Insaniyat, Jamhooriyat” (Kashmiri identity, humanity, democracy) is still fondly remembered for acknowledging Kashmiri aspirations. In contrast, Prime Minister Modi’s 2017 promise to resolve Kashmir “not with bullets or abuse – na gaali se, na goli se – but by embracing the people” rings hollow to many locals who report constant suspicion and scrutiny.
This extends beyond Kashmir’s borders. Across BJP-governed states including Delhi, Uttarakhand, Uttar Pradesh, and Rajasthan, Kashmiri Muslims and students have faced harassment and discrimination – reinforcing their sense of alienation.
‘Mere silence can be enough’
Pahalgam MLA Altaf Kaloo expresses hope that Operation Sindoor will deliver some gains on the ground. But what’s been truly needed is a soothing touch to heal the wounds of Kashmir, according to government officials, retired police officers, Army veterans, and security analysts who spoke to Newslaundry.
As Donthi warns, for militancy to wreak violence and instability in Kashmir, “it doesn’t require Kashmiris to participate by picking up guns. Mere silence or turning a blind eye can be enough.”
This is perhaps the most troubling dimension of the post-Pahalgam landscape. That the terrorists are still out there, and that the real question isn’t just when they will be caught.
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