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Far from the missile strikes and drone combat that grabbed the world’s attention, ordinary Kashmiris suffer the heaviest toll of India and Pakistan’s confrontation.
By Showkat Nanda
Showkat Nanda reported from Garkote, in India-controlled Kashmir. Born and raised in the region’s Baramulla district, he heard plenty of gunfire growing up, but until last week had never spent a night under military bombardment.
May 11, 2025, 1:58 a.m. ET
As night fell, we could see in the distance hills dotted with glowing white specks — homes tucked into the slopes of the Pakistani side of Kashmir. The town behind us, on the Indian side, was also shimmering.
My friend was hopeful. “Lights are a good sign,” he said. “Means nothing will go wrong tonight.”
But as we settled into dinner, an announcement rang out from a nearby mosque: “Citizens, especially in border areas, are advised to remain indoors.”
As if in concert, the lights on both sides of the border flickered out, and darkness blanketed the valley. The announcement had sounded mundane, but Kashmiris knew what it meant.
The shelling was about to begin.
I have spent much of my career covering unrest across Kashmir. At the end of a reporting trip at the Line of Control, I looked forward to staying with my old friend Irshad Khwaja and his family in Garkote, a village on the Indian-administered side.
The day before, early Wednesday, tensions between India and Pakistan had flared up into a military clash that would play out as two confrontations being fought in parallel.
