When Tragedy Strikes, Must We Always Choose Silence?

When tragedy strikes, as it so often does in the fraught landscape of our shared borders, the instinct is often to retreat, to harden lines, to speak only of retribution. But then, there are voices, sometimes quiet, sometimes impassioned, that dare to suggest another way. It was precisely this sentiment that echoed from Srinagar, as People's Democratic Party (PDP) president Mehbooba Mufti, in truth, made a compelling, if perhaps controversial, plea for dialogue in the stark wake of the Poonch terror attack.

Her words weren't just a political statement; no, they were a deeply felt reflection on a cycle of violence that, honestly, seems unending. Mufti didn't mince words, squarely laying responsibility on the current BJP-led government for what she perceives as a distinct failure to engage. She argued, quite pointedly, that simply relying on a heavy hand, on isolating a populace, has never, not truly, brought lasting peace. And really, when you look at history, can we dispute that?

You see, for her, the path forward isn't an unknown one. She harked back, as many often do, to the era of Atal Bihari Vajpayee, a time when, she maintained, a genuine attempt at outreach, a robust dialogue with both internal and external stakeholders, actually yielded results. It offered, for once, a glimmer of hope, a tangible reduction in hostilities. It was, you could say, a blueprint, imperfect certainly, but a start.

But this isn't just about internal conversations, is it? It’s also, fundamentally, about Pakistan. Mufti's argument extends to the broader geopolitical chess game, insisting that real peace—a peace that truly holds—requires us to confront, head-on, the very root causes of this seemingly perpetual animosity. And that means, yes, talking to Islamabad, no matter how uncomfortable it feels in these charged moments. It’s a bitter pill for some, perhaps, but a necessary one, she believes, if we are to break free from this relentless cycle of pain.

Because, ultimately, what's the alternative? To perpetuate a state of siege, to allow anger and grief to dictate policy, to further alienate those who already feel marginalized? Mufti's message, stripped down, is a call for a different kind of strength—the strength to converse, to understand, to bridge divides, even when every fiber of our being yearns for something simpler, something more immediate. It’s a tough ask, yes, but perhaps, just perhaps, it’s the only way forward.