Barbed to beauty: Tourism suffers Amid bolstered Amarnath Yatra
Centuries ago, Mughal Emperor Jahangir gazed upon Kashmir’s lush valleys and towering Himalayas, proclaiming, “If there is a paradise on earth, it is here.” In Pahalgam, that paradise once thrived—a haven of natural beauty where tourists from across the globe wandered through verdant meadows and along gurgling streams. Laughter echoed through the air, mingling with the calls of vendors and the chatter of visitors.
But by August 2025, Pahalgam’s heart had fallen silent. The vibrant tourist hub, once alive with joy, was now shrouded in fear, its streets lined with army bunkers and armoured convoys. The paradise Jahangir praised had become a place of siege, its beauty scarred by violence and oppression.
On April 22, 2025, a terrorist attack in Pahalgam’s Baisaran Valley claimed 26 lives, shattering the region’s fragile peace. The attack not only left a psychological wound but also triggered a brutal crackdown that crippled Kashmir’s economy and spirit. Indian forces, under the guise of Operation Mahadev, imposed a suffocating military siege on Pahalgam. Journalist Haseeb Ahmad, a native of the valley, documented the toll: checkpoints manned by security personnel, facial recognition systems, and no-fly zones stifled the once-thriving tourist town.
The government deployed 42,000 troops, erecting barriers that halted civilian movement and turned visitors away. “Pahalgam is the beautiful face of Kashmir,” a local elder told Haseeb, his voice heavy with grief, “but that face now wears a scar.”
The human cost was devastating. Imran, a hotelier who once welcomed guests with warm smiles, stood before his empty lodge, its rooms untouched since the attack. “My hotel is my life’s work,” he said, his eyes tracing the deserted street. “Now, it’s a ghost house.” Aqib, a juice vendor whose cart once brightened Pahalgam’s market, watched his livelihood vanish as roads closed and tourists fled. “No one comes anymore,” he whispered, his voice breaking.
“My family eats one meal a day now.” Adnan, a student, described his journey home as a gauntlet of halted traffic and Central Reserve Police Force (CRPF) scrutiny. “Every step feels like a punishment,” he said, his dreams of education dimmed by the daily struggle to move freely. A mother in the village confronted CRPF officers, clutching a photo of her missing son, her pleas met with cold silence. The Amarnath Yatra, drawing over three lakh pilgrims from July 3 to August 9, continued under heavy security, but civilian tourism collapsed. VIP trips and local visits were cancelled, leaving hotels, shops, and vendors in ruin.
The siege’s ripple effects were profound. The Yatra, while permitted, disrupted local life, with civilian traffic halted to prioritize pilgrim convoys. Pahalgam’s economy, once buoyed by tourism, crumbled as families like Imran’s and Aqib’s faced hunger and despair. The restrictions—checkpoints, internet blackouts, and movement bans—choked the valley, isolating Kashmiris from the world. Haseeb’s reports painted a stark picture: a people trapped in their own land; their livelihoods and freedoms sacrificed to a narrative of control.
The scars of Pahalgam were not just on its landscape but on the hearts of its people, who yearned for the days when their valley echoed with life, not silence. Yet, amid this suffering, the spirit of Kashmir endures. Imran still sweeps his hotel’s porch, hoping for guests. Aqib shares his last fruits with neighbours. Adnan studies by candlelight, determined to learn. The mother’s cries for her son echo in the valley’s prayers.
These are not stories of defeat but of resilience, of a people refusing to let their paradise be erased. The international community must heed their voices. The siege of Pahalgam, justified as counterterrorism, is a violation of human rights, stifling freedom and punishing the innocent. Global leaders, human rights organizations, and advocates must act—condemn the militarization, demand the restoration of Kashmiri livelihoods, and ensure accountability for the suffering inflicted. Pahalgam’s scars are a call to the world: do not let this paradise become a graveyard of dreams. Act now, before silence claims the last echoes of Kashmir’s hope.