Opinion: Pahalgam Attack A Calculated Strike On Kashmir’s Economic Revival?

The April 22 terror attack on tourists in Pahalgam, Kashmir, which left at least 26 dead and several others injured, is more than just a horrific act of violence. The deadliest such incident since the abrogation of Article 370 in 2019 is likely a strategic attempt to undermine the fragile economic resurgence that the region has painstakingly built in recent years. The timing, the target and the aftermath all point toward a deliberate effort to stall the economic momentum that has begun to erode the influence and recruitment base of separatist and terror groups.

Tourism is not just an industry in Kashmir - it is the backbone of its economy, directly and indirectly supporting hundreds of thousands of livelihoods. In the past few years, the region has witnessed an unprecedented boom. In 2023, a record 2.1 crore tourists visited Jammu & Kashmir, filling hotels to capacity and attracting major investments from both domestic and international players. The sector was projected to contribute up to 8.47% of the Union Territory's GDP, with ambitions to double that share in the coming years. This growth has had a tangible impact on the ground. Young Kashmiris, once vulnerable to the lure of militancy due to high unemployment and lack of opportunity, have increasingly turned to entrepreneurship, hospitality and allied sectors. The economic optimism has not only improved individual lives but also weakened the separatist narrative that feeds on despair and joblessness. The attack in Pahalgam was not random. It struck at the heart of the region’s peak tourist season, in a location known for its beauty and accessibility to pilgrims and travelers alike. By targeting civilians - especially Hindu outsiders - the perpetrators aimed to: > Instill fear among potential visitors, leading to mass cancellations and a sudden drop in revenue. > Shatter the image of normalcy and safety that the government has worked hard to project, both to Indian citizens and the international community. > Undermine investor confidence, jeopardizing ongoing and future projects that could further integrate Kashmir into the national economic mainstream. The immediate aftermath has been devastating. Reports indicate up to 90% cancellations in some segments, with hoteliers, taxi drivers and small business owners suddenly facing the prospect of loan defaults and financial ruin. The ripple effect threatens not just tourism but the entire tertiary sector, which accounts for over 60% of the region’s gross value added. There is compelling evidence that economic development, especially through tourism, directly undermines the recruitment strategies of separatist and terrorist groups. Studies and policy analyses consistently find that as young people gain access to stable jobs and rising incomes, the appeal of militancy diminishes. In the late 1990s and early 2000s, high youth unemployment was a key driver of insurgent recruitment. Today, with new businesses and employment opportunities, the separatist narrative is losing ground. For terror groups, this is an existential threat. Every successful entrepreneur, every family lifted out of poverty, is a loss for their cause. By attacking tourists and disrupting the economy, these groups hope to restore the climate of fear and uncertainty in which their ideology thrives. The attack is likely to have far-reaching consequences. Risk-averse investors may withdraw or delay projects, stalling infrastructure and job creation. Both domestic and international tourists may avoid the region, reversing years of painstaking image-building. And economic setbacks can breed frustration and resentment, potentially creating a new pool of recruits for extremist groups. The Valley’s resilience will be tested, but history shows that the people of Kashmir, given security and opportunity, choose prosperity over violence. The challenge now is to ensure that terror does not succeed in turning back the clock on hard-won progress. The response must go beyond security measures; it requires a renewed commitment to economic development, job creation, and the protection of the livelihoods that are Kashmir’s best hope for lasting peace.

Grooms Missing, Brides Quitting, Moms Eloping -- Just Another Day In UP

Uttar Pradesh’s wedding circuit has always been a riot of colours and chaos, but 2025 has truly outdone itself. The wedding season in the state of late has been less about “happily ever after” and more about “expect the unexpected.” 

If you thought the only thing running away at an Uttar Pradesh (UP) wedding was the groom’s nerves, think again. In the great Indian wedding circus, UP seems to be running the main tent with the most eyebrow-raising, head-shaking and side-splitting wedding mishaps from the heartland of India.

Mom Steals The Groom  (Aligarh, April 7, 2025)

Just nine days before the big day (scheduled for April 16), a 40-year-old woman from Aligarh’s Mandrak area eloped with her 20-year-old daughter’s fiance - along with Rs 2.5 lakh in cash and jewellery. The groom-to-be called his father to say, “I’m leaving. Don’t try to find me,” while the mother-in-law skipped even that courtesy. The family is now left with an empty mandap, a police complaint and a lifetime supply of awkward silences at family gatherings.

Bride’s Mom, Groom’s Dad (Badaun, April 11, 2025)

In Badaun, just days after the Aligarh escapade, 43-year-old Mamta (mother of four) ran off with her daughter’s father-in-law, Shailendra, on April 11. The duo absconded in a tempo, taking with them jewelry, cash and the last shreds of familial trust. The husband, a truck driver who was rarely home, is now left with a written complaint and a story that will haunt every future wedding toast.

Bride-to-Be Runs Away With… (Muzaffarnagar, February 18, 2025)

On February 18, a 26-year-old homeopathy doctor vanished from a beauty parlour hours before her wedding in Muzaffarnagar. To save face, her family faked her death, blaming a sudden “cardiac arrest.” The police, unimpressed by the amateur dramatics, tracked her down in Gwalior the next day, alive and well with her female friend. The only thing more dead than her willingness to marry was her family’s credibility.

The ‘Joota Churai’ Wars (Bijnor, April 7 & April 14, 2025)

• April 7, 2025: In Bijnor’s Garhmal village, a ₹50,000 demand during the joota churai (shoe-stealing) ritual sparked a brawl. The groom’s side offered ₹5,000, got thrashed and left without the bride. Police complaints flew faster than the shoes.
  
  
• April 14, 2025: Just a week later, another Bijnor wedding was called off after the bride’s sister demanded ₹15,000 for the shoes. The groom’s side countered with ₹2,100 and the ensuing scuffle sent the baraat packing. In UP, Cinderella stories end with police mediations and cancelled buffets.
  

The Drunk Groom Case (Bareilly, February 22, 2025)

On February 22 in Bareilly, a 26-year-old groom arrived late and drunk, then garlanded the bride’s best friend instead of the bride. He tried to recover by garlanding a male friend and an elderly guest, but the bride had seen enough. She slapped him, called off the wedding and sent the entire baraat home. The police had to intervene—because in UP, even the garlands have plot twists.

Husband Of The Year (Sant Kabir Nagar, March 25–28, 2025)

In Sant Kabir Nagar, Babloo discovered his wife’s affair and, fearing for his own safety (thanks to a recent spate of “killer wives” in the news), arranged her wedding to her lover on March 25. Three days later, overwhelmed by childcare, he went to her new husband’s house and brought her back. The only thing more confused than the villagers is the marital status on everyone’s Aadhaar card.

Honorable Mention (Charkhari, October 16, 2024)

In a lighter moment, Akhilendra Khare, a 43-year-old petrol pump worker from Charkhari, publicly asked his MLA for help finding a bride, citing his vote as collateral. The MLA, caught off-guard, promised to help. In UP, even democracy doubles as a matrimonial agency.

So, if you’re planning a wedding in UP, don’t just worry about the caterer or the weather. The smart thing to do is keep an eye on the guest list and maybe invest in some GPS trackers for the groom and the in-laws. In the wild world of UP weddings, you never know who’ll say -  “I do,” or “I’m outta here.” One thing’s for sure - the only thing more unpredictable than the wedding menu is who’ll actually make it to the honeymoon.

The Great Indian Language Limbo

India, the only country where a signboard can trigger a national crisis, is again embroiled in its favourite pastime - the Great Indian Language War. If you thought cricket was divisive, wait till you see what happens when someone paints a word in Urdu, Hindi, Marathi or Kannada on a public wall.

Let’s start with Hindi, the language that keeps popping up like that one relative at every family function - uninvited, but impossible to ignore. With its three-language formula, the New Education Policy (NEP) 2020 has Tamil Nadu seeing red (and not just on its signboards). The state’s leaders swear by their two-language policy, convinced the NEP is a sneaky plot to smuggle Hindi into classrooms under the guise of “linguistic freedom.” After all, nothing says “freedom” like being told what to learn.

The Centre insists it’s all about choice, but if you believe that, you probably also believe that “One Nation, One Language” is just a catchy slogan, not a fever dream of uniformity. Tamil Nadu remembers 1965, when anti-Hindi protests set the state ablaze - literally. Since then, “Hindi imposition” has been the political equivalent of a spicy sambar: always on the boil, and guaranteed to make eyes water.

Meanwhile, Maharashtra has decided that if you can’t beat the language imposition game, join it. The state’s new Marathi-only policy ensures that all government communication, from official memos to the “chai ready” announcement, must be in Marathi. Outsiders and Adivasis? Sorry, you’ll need Google Translate (or maybe divine intervention). The policy, meant to preserve Marathi pride, has left linguistic minorities feeling like uninvited guests at a very exclusive Ganesh Chaturthi party.

Karnataka, not to be left behind, is now lobbying for a two-language policy - Kannada and English. The Kannada Development Authority wants to keep Hindi at arm’s length (preferably farther), arguing that the language burden is already heavy enough. Why should Kannadigas learn Hindi when no one in Delhi is queuing up for Kannada lessons? And let’s not forget the regional languages like Tulu, quietly wondering if anyone remembers they exist.

So, here we are, a nation where every language wants to be the only child and every policy is a potential custody battle. As the Supreme Court wisely put it, “Language is not religion. Language belongs to a community, to a region, to a people, and not to a religion.” But try telling that to the politicians, for whom language is the sharpest tool in the shed.

Language in India is sacred, but also weaponised. Instead of celebrating our multilingualism, we routinely turn it into a zero-sum game. As if elevating one tongue requires stabbing another in the back. 

And while we’re busy fighting over whose alphabet should appear first on a highway sign, our kids are growing up in English-medium schools, dreaming in Hinglish, watching Korean dramas with Hindi dubs and texting in emojis. The future isn’t choosing sides. It’s blending them.

If journalism doesn’t work on social media, it might not work at all

Let’s face it - most of us aren’t typing “that news site we used to visit” into our browsers anymore. We’re on Instagram Reels while waiting for our chai, scrolling through X during lunch breaks, or watching YouTube in bed. That’s just how we consume information now. And journalism? It’s adapting - fast... to stay relevant in the game. For years, newsrooms used social media as a marketing tool or appetiser - just a little taste to drive you to the main course: the website. We’ve all seen it. A slick Instagram reel, a tweet thread with a hook, or a “Read more on our site” link dropped into a Facebook post. The goal? Funnel the traffic back “home.” Social media was just the bait. But here’s the thing - audiences aren’t following that funnel like they used to. Many don’t click through at all. And frankly, why would they? They're already swimming in an ocean of content on the platform itself. That’s where the shift comes in. These days, smart newsrooms and savvy journalists aren’t just using social to tease the story - they’re telling the story right there. On YouTube, Instagram, X, Facebook, TikTok and others. And they’re doing it in formats native to those platforms -  punchy videos, carousels, threads, lives, even memes. That’s why more and more newsrooms (and individual journalists), both international and Indian, are skipping the funnel and serving up journalism right where people are: in the feed. Take The Quint, for example. They’ve nailed the short-form video format on Instagram and YouTube. Their explainers, on-ground reports and “In-Depth” stories are designed for social-first consumption - whether you click a link or not. The Print and Scroll.in regularly publishes crisp carousels and X threads that summarise complex issues without requiring you to leave the app. You're not just teased with a headline - you’re informed right there. Meanwhile, Mojo Story (led by Barkha Dutt) shows what a journalist-led, social-first outlet looks like. Her YouTube Lives and Instagram interviews are often the primary source of news and analysis for thousands, especially during major events like elections, floods, or social movements. Then there’s @nowthisnews, which was practically born on social media. Their bite-sized news videos are designed only for feeds - no redirection, no “read more here.” The full story is right in front of you, tailored for someone who only has 30 seconds before switching apps. Even legacy outlets are adapting. BBC News runs tailored Instagram Stories with polling features and Q&As. NPR publishes explainer threads on X that work as standalone stories. They’ve realized if people won’t come to the site, the site needs to come to them. It’s not just media houses that are adapting - individual journalists are building powerful personal brands, too. Look at Faye D’Souza. Her Instagram is basically a one-woman news channel. She breaks down complex issues like policy decisions, legal verdicts, or election updates in simple, engaging formats - with none of the noise and sensationalism of primetime. Samdish Bhatia, formerly with ScoopWhoop and now doing his own thing on YouTube, mixes humor with sharp interviews. His content feels like a conversation, not a lecture - and that makes it shareable, even among people who usually “don’t follow the news.” Then there’s The Deshbhakt, run by Akash Banerjee—a satirical news and commentary platform that’s grown into a full-fledged alternative media brand. With YouTube explainers, meme-driven takes on current affairs and live Q&As, The Deshbhakt uses humor and relatability to cut through political jargon and engage younger, digital-first audiences. It’s political commentary made entertaining—without compromising on substance. And of course, Ravish Kumar - a name long associated with serious, fearless journalism. After stepping away from mainstream TV news, he now runs his own YouTube channel where he continues to do what he’s best at - in-depth, no-frills reporting that prioritizes people over power. His digital presence is proof that legacy journalists can evolve without losing their voice, authority, or audience - if anything, his community is stronger and more engaged than ever. So what’s the lesson here? News consumption has gone from appointment viewing to snackable content. We can’t expect people to come searching for our websites anymore - we have to show up where they already are. That means asking:

• Can this story be explained in a 60-second reel?

• Does it work as a carousel with context and quotes?

• Should I answer questions in the comments or go Live with an expert?

It’s storytelling, adapted. It’s not about "dumbing down" the news - it’s about reformatting it and making it easier to consume, in the places where people actually are. Because in today’s world, if we don’t go to them - they’re not coming to us. Simple.