As the zipline operator chants ‘Allahu Akbar’ while Hindus are gunned down, the complicity of local Kashmiris in the Pahalgam massacre can no longer be denied
The valley of Kashmir, once romanticised as “Paradise on Earth,” has once again revealed its darker underbelly — not through whispers and accusations, but through cold, hard, horrifying evidence. A video, now viral across social media, shows a zipline operator in Pahalgam callously pushing a tourist into the jaws of death, while chanting “Allahu Akbar,” even as terrorists beneath opened fire on helpless visitors.
It is difficult to overstate the significance of what we witnessed in that clip. It shatters, beyond repair, the carefully cultivated liberal narrative of “Kashmiriyat” — the supposed culture of harmony and hospitality that Kashmir’s apologists dust off and present to the nation every time a terror attack stains the valley with blood.
In the video, the tourist — an innocent civilian who had come to soak in the famed Baisaran meadows — is hanging mid-air on the zipline, vulnerable and exposed. As gunfire erupts below, the natural instinct for any human being should have been to protect the person, to unhook him, to pull him back, to shield him from certain death. Instead, the zipline operator, a local Kashmiri, utters “Allahu Akbar” — a cry that, though sacred to many, has been appropriated by terrorists as a battle shout before bloodshed — and sends the tourist hurtling towards the carnage unfolding beneath.
This is no accident. It is not cowardice. It is complicity.
The tourist, identified as Rishi Bhatt, later recounted his suspicions against the zip line operator. He revealed that the operator did not utter the phrase when his family members took the ride earlier. He also mentioned that the terrorists were dressed like security personnel and that locals were among the first to flee the scene, offering no assistance to the victims.
For decades, a section of the Indian intelligentsia, media, and political establishment has laboured under the delusion — or perhaps the willful lie — that terrorism in Kashmir is the handiwork of a handful of “outsiders,” with the local population being mere helpless victims. The truth, however, has always been more sinister. Locals have been indispensable cogs in the machinery of terror: sheltering terrorists in their homes, providing logistics, conducting reconnaissance, helping transport weapons, and serving as eyes and ears for cross-border handlers.
Now, it seems, they have taken it a step further: actively pushing innocent tourists to the harm’s way.
What happened in Pahalgam is not an aberration; it is the logical culmination of years of indoctrination and radicalisation. For every terrorist who sneaks across the Line of Control, there are dozens of locals ready to embrace him, to feed him, to guide him, and — when the time comes — to help him slaughter civilians without remorse.
Sure, there are some locals like Syed Adil Hussain Shah who was martyred trying to snatch the weapons of terrorists and protecting the tourists. But let us not indulge in selective idealism: their numbers are tragically few, dwarfed by the overwhelming complicity or indifference displayed by the larger populace. Isolated examples of selflessness, while praiseworthy, cannot be used to whitewash the widespread and systemic support that terrorism enjoys among many local networks. The fact that terror attack took place over 200 kms away from the Line Of Control highlights the support the terrorists might have received from local population.
The myth of “Kashmiriyat” has been weaponised to silence critics, to paint any discussion about local complicity as bigotry. But the gruesome reality playing out again and again in the valley demands honesty. It demands that we discard the rose-tinted glasses and see Kashmir for what it has become: a region where a substantial portion of the population is either actively aiding terrorism or turning a blind eye to it.
Where are the locals denouncing the betrayal at Pahalgam? Why are Kashmiri leaders not talking about suspected local involvement in the scale of attack witnessed in Pahalgam on April 22? There is a chilling silence — the same silence that has accompanied thousands of terror attacks, bomb blasts, targeted killings, and pogroms over the decades. A silence that is not born of fear alone, but often of quiet approval.
Every year, crores of taxpayer rupees are poured into the valley under the garb of “development,” “healing,” and “reconciliation.” And yet, time and again, when the bullets fly and the bombs explode, we find locals not standing with India, but with its enemies. Before the abrogation of Article 370, a large section of Kashmiri youth in sensitive regions took to stone pelting, often to disrupt army cordon and give a cover fire to help terrorists escape. With the Article 370 abrogated and a severe clampdown on terror finance, the anger against armed forces seems to have gradually diverted towards civilians and tourists.
The complicity of the local populace is the open secret that our liberal commentariat refuses to address. It is easier to blame Pakistan — and to be sure, Pakistan’s role in fomenting terror is undeniable — but cross-border infiltration would mean little without a willing support system on the ground. It is the locals who act as the extended arms of these handlers, making attacks like Pahalgam possible.
The incident at Pahalgam should be a wake-up call. India must recalibrate its approach towards Kashmir, shedding the illusions that have allowed this betrayal to continue unchecked. Security forces need to be empowered, intelligence networks must be more ruthless, and the web of local support to terrorism must be systematically dismantled.
Above all, the Indian public must reject the sickly-sweet sermons about “Kashmiriyat” and demand accountability. Sentimentality has cost us too many lives already.
The face of the zipline operator sending a man to a carnage unfolding below, should be seared into the national consciousness. It is a reminder that not every local in the valley is innocent, and not every hand extended is meant to save.
Some hands, as we saw that day, are pushing us into darkness.
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