And When Our Mehmaan Became a Martyr

When the batter starts finding rhythm, the bowler throws a bouncer—not always to get them out, but to break their confidence. Pahalgam, a valley of whispers and waterfalls, just received one such bouncer. Not on the cricket field, but in the lush fields of tourism, where laughter echoed louder than the chinars in bloom.

A terror attack on tourists—helpless visitors, seekers of peace—left the valley reeling in horror. 26 dead. Dozens wounded. All innocent. All human. And all now reduced to numbers on news tickers, hashtags on timelines, and footnotes in debates about “the larger picture.”

But let’s pause. Strip away the politics, the commentary, the TV studio outrage. Let us look at the bare bones of it: guests were killed. Families came to admire beauty, and left in coffins. Mothers, children, newlyweds—those who packed sunscreen and snacks were instead wrapped in blood and headlines. This isn’t just a tragedy. It is a betrayal.

In our valley, guests are more than just visitors. In our culture, and deeply embedded in our Islamic tradition, the mehman is a blessing—rahmat. Not just someone to host, but someone to protect. What happened in Pahalgam wasn’t just un-Islamic; it was inhuman.

The Quran (5:32) doesn’t mince words: “Whoever kills an innocent person, it is as if he has killed all of humanity.”
Today, humanity lies wounded under deodar trees, somewhere between the Lidder river and shattered windshields.

We must stop calling this a “condemnable act” like it’s a checkbox on social decorum. Of course, it’s condemnable. The fact that we even need to say it loudly shows how numb we’ve become. Condemnation without accountability is just noise. What we should be demanding—loudly and clearly—is justice.

Catch the perpetrators. Punish them with the full force of law. No delay. No distraction. And please, not again—do not twist this into a business conversation. Yes, tourism will suffer. But to talk about hotel bookings when families are still identifying bodies is grotesque. Human lives must take precedence. Always.

The conversation should not be about losses in revenue, but the loss of souls.

But even in grief, Kashmiris have always shown something the world sometimes forgets we have in abundance: insaniyat. Humanity. Kindness. Resilience. And that must rise now, more than ever.

I urge all hoteliers, locals, guesthouse owners, and everyday Kashmiris: if you see a stranded tourist, offer them a place. Don’t charge them. Feed them. Shelter them. Hug them if you must. Let this be our resistance to those who want to turn our valleys into graveyards and our mehmans into martyrs.

Let us show the world that this is Kashmir: not the one in the headlines, but the one in our hearts. Where homes open wider than wallets. Where compassion beats commerce. Where healing starts from the grassroots.

Let our message to the world be clear: we may not control the bouncers that terror throws, but we control our response. And our response must be loud, loving, and unwavering.

In memory of those who were murdered in Pahalgam—not as statistics, but as human beings—we must stand united. For justice. For dignity. For the soul of Kashmir.

Let the world know: you may rattle our rhythm, but this inning isn’t over. Not yet.

Ikkz Ikbal has a Masters in Biotechnology and is Principal at Maryam Memorial Institute Pandithpora Qaziabad. He X’s @IkkzIkbal