Kashmir is grieving. That grief is real, it is deep, and it deserves respect.
Ayatollah Khamenei’s death has touched Kashmir profoundly a valley that carried the epithet Iran-e-Sageer, little Iran, for centuries, bound by the ancient Silk Route, by Persian poetry, by shared faith and shared history. That bond is not political. It is human. And human beings have every right to mourn. But Kashmir must mourn wisely because Kashmir, above all places, knows the cost of streets on fire. To our politicians and religious leaders, we ask a question that deserves an honest answer: where was this urgency when Kashmiri families were burying their own? When our youth disappeared into conflict? When our tourism collapsed, our businesses shuttered, our children grew up knowing checkpoints before they knew playgrounds? The condemnation was quieter then. The streets were emptier then. Lead your communities today with the same energy but lead them toward life, not risk. History has shown repeatedly that assassinations become martyrdoms, and martyrdoms become mobilising tools for forces that care nothing for ordinary lives. Kashmir has seen this bitter truth before. Every sect, every community carries within it those willing to exploit grief for destruction. They do not mourn they wait.
Grieve. Pray. Observe. Light candles. But do not hand your streets, your safety, and your fragile recovery to those who profit from chaos. Kashmir has lost enough. Mourn peacefully because peace, here, is never guaranteed.
