Innocents bleed while the ignorant preach: The true victims of terrorism

The recent terrorist attack in Pahalgam is among the deadliest on civilians since the 26/11 Mumbai attacks. But this particular assault wasn’t only about indiscriminate killing—it was chillingly targeted. Reports indicate that the attackers asked for names, demanded the recitation of the Kalima, and selectively executed non-Muslims. Amid the horror, a Kashmiri Muslim was also killed—he died attempting to disarm the terrorists and protect others.

Like every Indian, I was devastated. But as a Muslim, I was also deeply ashamed. For an entire day, I was unable to react. The pain of watching innocent people slaughtered in the name of the religion I follow was too heavy to bear. I felt shattered—by the brutality, by the loss, and by the guilt-by-association that always follows such attacks.

Over the past few years, India’s communal atmosphere has grown increasingly tense. Attacks like the one in Pahalgam pour fuel on an already simmering fire. In the aftermath, I witnessed a disturbing shift—even those who previously identified as secular and inclusive began to express sweeping, dangerous generalisations. Phrases like “the problem is with one religion” or “the world would be better without this faith” began circulating on social media.

I understand the pain and outrage. But when grief is channelled into communal hatred, it doesn’t stay online—it spills into the streets.

In Islam, violence against innocents is unequivocally condemned. The Holy Quran states in Surah Al-Ma’idah (5:32):
“Whoever kills a person [unjustly]... it is as though he has killed all mankind. And whoever saves a life, it is as though he has saved all mankind.”
Those who carry out bloodshed in the name of Islam are not martyrs or heroes—they are criminals who betray the very tenets of the faith they claim to defend. And tragically, it is Muslims—particularly Indian Muslims—who are left to bear the consequences of their actions.

In less than 24 hours after the Pahalgam attack, Mohammad Ghulfam, a 25-year-old Muslim man who ran a biryani shop in Agra, was shot dead. Two men later posted a video on Instagram claiming to be gau rakshaks, taking “revenge” for the Pahalgam killings by attacking Muslims.

Elsewhere, a Kashmiri student was dragged out of her cab and assaulted in broad daylight. In Uttarakhand, members of the Hindu Raksha Dal threatened Kashmiri Muslim students, demanding they leave the state or face consequences.

This is what terrorism does. It doesn’t just kill—it multiplies hate. It fractures societies. It dehumanises communities. And it emboldens the ignorant who believe that vengeance lies in targeting the innocent.

But in these dark times, I also saw glimmers of hope. There were voices—Hindu, Sikh, Christian, and Muslim—who stood firm against this rising tide of hatred. They defended the principle that no community should be punished for the actions of extremists. They reminded us that the India we believe in is one where justice is individual, not collective.

We must not let terrorists define our religions—or our relationships with each other. They thrive when we turn against one another. To truly defeat them, we must resist not just their violence, but also the divisiveness they aim to create.

Let us grieve the lives lost in Pahalgam. Let us honour those who stood up to protect others. And above all, let us reject the politics of hate that seeks to hijack our grief.