A Valley Under Siege by Narratives
By: Javid Amin | May 12, 2025
On a chilly morning in Pahalgam, 82 kilometers from Srinagar, three shopkeepers huddle on the pavement outside their shuttered stores. The once-vibrant main road, lined with shawl sellers, dry fruit vendors, and cozy cafes, is eerily quiet. Their eyes are glued to a smartphone screen, watching a YouTube video by a vlogger named B Boys, who boasts 2.44 million subscribers. In the video, B Boys roams Srinagar’s streets, camera in hand, confronting Kashmiris about a recent terror attack that claimed 26 lives—25 Hindu tourists and one local Muslim. “Why don’t you protest? Why don’t you condemn this attack?” he demands, his lens zooming in on hesitant faces. Flipping the camera to himself, he declares, “Everything seems normal… but whoever supports this attack is a terrorist.”
The video, which racked up 2.2 million views in just a week, is flooded with comments praising the vlogger for “exposing anti-India sentiments.” For the shopkeepers, watching in silence, each click feels like a wound. This is not just a video—it’s part of a broader wave of Kashmir media coverage that has turned their grief into a spectacle, their lives into a battleground of narratives.
Just a week before the April 22, 2025, attack, Pahalgam was a postcard of joy. Tourists strolled shoulder-to-shoulder, snapping photos against pine-covered hills, bargaining for pashminas, and sipping kahwa at roadside stalls. Today, the same streets are deserted, the air heavy with fear and mistrust. The attack didn’t just claim lives—it unleashed a torrent of biased Kashmir media coverage, inflammatory social media campaigns, and confrontational influencer content that has vilified Kashmiri Muslims, crippled tourism, and deepened a sense of alienation.
This article dives into the heart of this crisis, exploring how sensationalist Kashmir media coverage and social media hate have distorted the truth, silenced local voices, and fueled division. Through the stories of shopkeepers, hoteliers, survivors, and experts, we uncover the human cost of this narrative war and the urgent need for responsible journalism to heal a fractured valley.
The Attack That Shattered Pahalgam’s Peace
A Day of Horror
On April 22, 2025, Pahalgam—a serene hill station known for its meadows and the gushing Lidder River—was thrust into chaos. A group of armed attackers targeted a group of tourists, killing 25 Hindu visitors and one local Muslim. Survivors later recounted chilling details: the attackers demanded to know their faith, asked some to recite the Kalma, and opened fire indiscriminately. The brutality was undeniable, a stark reminder of the fragility of peace in Kashmir.
For locals, the attack was a nightmare come to life. “I’ve lived 22 years, and I’ve never seen such a tragedy,” says Arafat Ahmad, a young hotelier in Pahalgam, his voice heavy with sorrow. “We were all in shock. Families, children, locals—everyone was crying.” Ahmad’s hotel, fully booked with 10 rooms that day, became a refuge for terrified tourists. He and his staff worked tirelessly to ensure their safety, offering comfort and shielding them from panic.
Across Pahalgam, locals sprang into action. Ponywalas, taxi drivers, and guides risked their lives to protect tourists, guiding them to safety through the night. Some shielded visitors with their bodies, others ferried them to secure locations. These acts of courage were immediate and instinctive, rooted in the Kashmiri tradition of hospitality. Yet, as the world would soon see, these stories of humanity were overshadowed by a different narrative—one driven by Kashmir media coverage that sought to divide rather than unite.
The Immediate Aftermath
The attack sent shockwaves through Kashmir’s tourism industry, a lifeline for thousands of families. Pahalgam’s bustling main road, once alive with the chatter of tourists and the clink of cash registers, fell silent. Shawl sellers sat idle, their colorful wares untouched. Cafes that once served steaming plates of rogan josh now had empty tables. Hoteliers like Ahmad watched helplessly as guests, rattled by the attack and the ensuing media frenzy, packed their bags and left.
“Some tourists were already shaken, but the media made it worse,” Ahmad recalls. “Reporters were everywhere, shoving mics in people’s faces, asking provocative questions. It scared people even more.” The sudden exodus left businesses reeling, with many shopkeepers and vendors facing months of uncertainty. For a region already grappling with economic challenges, the attack was a devastating blow.
The Media Storm: From Reporting to Vilification
The Descent of Reporters and Influencers
Within hours of the attack, Kashmir media coverage took a confrontational turn. Television crews, social media influencers, and YouTubers descended on Pahalgam and Srinagar, their cameras trained not on the victims’ families or the investigation but on ordinary Kashmiris. Reporters from Hindi-language channels approached locals with loaded questions: “Do you condemn the attack? Was it done by local Muslims or Pakistan? Why are you silent?” The tone was accusatory, the intent clear: to frame Kashmiris as complicit.
Influencers like B Boys amplified this narrative. His viral video, watched by millions, painted a simplistic picture of a valley indifferent to the tragedy. Other vloggers, such as Vishal Chaurasia, went further, urging followers to boycott Kashmir tourism altogether. Digital channels with massive followings, like one with over a million Facebook fans, posted videos of reporters aggressively pursuing locals, who responded cautiously, aware their words could be twisted.
For locals, these interactions felt like traps. “They didn’t want our grief; they wanted soundbites,” says Nisar Ahmad, a salesman in Pahalgam. “Five reporters came to me, asking if I condemned the attack. I said yes, but I refused to go on camera. I knew they’d edit it to fit their story.” Ahmad’s fears were not unfounded. Many locals reported their statements being misrepresented or ignored entirely, with videos edited to fuel outrage rather than reflect reality.
The Role of Mainstream Media
Mainstream media outlets, particularly television channels, played a significant role in shaping this narrative. Prominent networks ran inflammatory tickers, with one journalist from a channel with nearly half a million Instagram followers asking locals if an “Israel-like solution” was needed for Pakistan. Such rhetoric, broadcast to millions, framed the attack not as a tragedy but as a call to arms, with Kashmiris caught in the crosshairs.
Anuradha Bhasin, editor of Kashmir Times, whose X account has been blocked, points to a deeper issue: the cozy relationship between media conglomerates and the government. “Dominant sections of the media, especially TV, are owned by business groups close to the ruling party,” she explains. “This ensures there’s no scrutiny of the government. Instead, we get hate-mongering, war frenzy, and a focus on an ‘enemy within’—Muslims, Kashmiris.” This dynamic, Bhasin argues, allows the state to dodge accountability while using Kashmir media coverage to stoke division.
The Amplification of Hate
The synergy between mainstream media and social media was particularly vicious. Television channels fed off inflammatory posts, while influencers and far-right accounts amplified news tickers. Hashtags like #boycottkashmir and #boycottkashmirtourism trended on X, driven by a coordinated effort from what experts call the “Hindutva IT cell.” One verified X handle with 308,800 followers captioned a video with, “Muslims care about Kashmir’s economy and not 26 kafirs,” a slur that dehumanized the victims and vilified an entire community.
The Parliamentary Standing Committee on IT raised alarms about such content, warning that some social media handles were inciting violence and acting against national interests. Yet, the government’s inaction—despite its ability to issue media advisories, as seen after the 2008 Mumbai attacks—suggests a reluctance to curb hate that aligns with its political interests, according to Geeta Seshu, co-editor of FreeSpeechCollective.
Social Media’s Toxic Tide: Misinformation and Propaganda
The Spread of False Narratives
Social media platforms, particularly X, Instagram, and YouTube, became battlegrounds for misinformation after the attack. One widely shared video falsely claimed to show the final moments of Navy officer Lieutenant Vinay Narwal and his wife, victims of the attack. The footage, amplified by TV channels and social media pages, was actually from a trip by travel influencers Ashish Sehrawat and Yashika Sharma, recorded on April 14, 2025. The couple issued a public plea to stop the spread, expressing distress over the misuse of their content.
Other posts were more insidious. An Instagram account with over 125,000 followers posed a question: “Terrorism has only one religion and that is:?” The comments section erupted with explicit references to Islam, fueling a narrative that painted all Muslims—and by extension, all Kashmiris—as terrorists. Independent outlet Maktoob reported discussions on X advocating for the “massacre of Muslims,” with some accounts claiming, “Every Kashmiri was involved in this massacre.”
Coordinated Hate Campaigns
Raqib Hameed Naik, founder of the Center for the Study of Organized Hate (CSOH), describes these efforts as part of a “deeply networked” playbook. “After any incident, far-right groups and ruling party supporters activate,” he explains. “It starts with prominent influencers and accounts posting hate content, which is then amplified by larger players, including politicians. The narrative shifts from grief to calls for violence and exclusion.”
This was evident in the backlash against Himanshi Narwal, widow of Lieutenant Vinay Narwal. In a viral video, she urged the public not to exploit the tragedy or blame Kashmiris, emphasizing unity and justice. Her plea was met with vitriol, with some BJP members accusing her of downplaying the attack’s severity. The coordinated nature of this response—amplified by verified accounts and media outlets—underscored the power of organized hate to silence voices of reason.
The Human Cost of Hate
The impact of these campaigns extended beyond online vitriol. Kashmiri students across India reported harassment, with some facing threats and discrimination. Traders in Pahalgam and Srinagar, already struggling with the tourism slump, were targeted with accusations of “harbouring militants.” “You can’t even open social media,” says Nisar Ahmad. “There’s so much hate. We respect tourists, we mourned with them, but the media won’t show that.”
The economic boycott calls, amplified by hashtags like #boycottkashmir, have left lasting scars. For a region where tourism accounts for a significant portion of income, the loss of visitors threatens livelihoods. “We’re not just losing money,” says a shopkeeper who requested anonymity. “We’re losing hope. People think we’re the enemy, but we’re victims too.”
The Locals’ Untold Story: Courage Amid Grief
Acts of Humanity
While Kashmir media coverage focused on division, the stories of local heroism were largely ignored. Eyewitnesses and survivors described how Kashmiri ponywalas, taxi drivers, and guides became lifelines during the attack. Some stayed with tourists through the night, ensuring their safety. Others guided them through treacherous paths to avoid further danger. “The locals were our saviors,” one survivor told Frontline, a sentiment echoed by many.
Hoteliers like Arafat Ahmad went above and beyond. “We made sure our guests felt safe,” he says. “We gave them food, blankets, anything they needed. We were all in this together.” These acts of solidarity were not isolated; across Pahalgam, locals opened their homes and businesses to stranded tourists, offering comfort in a time of terror.
A Community in Mourning
The attack was a collective loss for Kashmiris, who mourned alongside the victims’ families. “We cried that day,” says Nisar Ahmad. “Not just for the tourists, but for our home, our peace.” Candlelight vigils and shutdowns swept through the valley, a powerful rejection of violence. Yet, these expressions of grief were rarely covered by mainstream media, which preferred to amplify division over unity.
Manisha Pande, managing editor of Newslaundry, argues that this selective coverage was a missed opportunity. “If the media had highlighted the vigils, the protests, the locals’ efforts, it could have shown Kashmir’s solidarity,” she says. “Instead, we got a narrative that fueled hate crimes and mistrust.”
The Pushback Against Bias
Frustrated by misrepresentation, locals began to resist. In Srinagar, protests erupted against biased Kashmir media coverage, with residents refusing interviews to reporters from certain channels. One viral incident showed protesters confronting a mainstream news anchor, accusing her of twisting their words. “We’re tired of being demonized,” one protester shouted, a sentiment that resonates across the valley.
Aslah Kayyalakath, editor of Maktoob Media, faced personal threats for his outlet’s balanced reporting. “I got nearly 50 calls from random numbers, abusing me for showing local voices,” he says. “But we won’t stop. Someone has to tell the full story.” His experience reflects the risks faced by journalists who challenge the dominant narrative, yet it also underscores the resilience of those fighting for truth.
The Failure of Responsible Journalism
A Media in Crisis
The Pahalgam attack exposed deep flaws in Kashmir media coverage. Rather than holding power accountable, mainstream media became a megaphone for hate. Geeta Seshu argues that the media’s role is to question the government and call out agents of division. “Instead, it’s playing into the hands of those who want to push hate,” she says. “This isn’t journalism—it’s propaganda.”
The government’s silence has compounded the issue. After the 2008 Mumbai attacks, media advisories curbed inflammatory coverage. No such measures were taken in 2025, despite the IT Committee’s warnings. “The state has the tools to intervene, but it turns a blind eye,” Seshu notes. “This hate serves its interests.”
The Cost of Selective Narratives
Manisha Pande highlights two critical truths ignored by Kashmir media coverage: the religious targeting of victims and the heroism of locals. “The attackers’ demands to know faiths and recite the Kalma were horrifying and undisputed,” she says. “But equally important is how locals risked their lives to help. Why wasn’t that amplified?”
This selective focus fueled a wave of hate crimes, particularly against Kashmiri students, and deepened mistrust. “Balanced reporting could have united the country,” Pande adds. “Instead, we got division, boycotts, and alienation.”
The Need for Reform
Experts call for a return to ethical journalism. “The media must scrutinize power, not parrot it,” says Anuradha Bhasin. “It should amplify humanity, not hate.” Civil society groups and independent outlets like Maktoob and Newslaundry are pushing back, but their voices are often drowned out by the noise of sensationalism.
Survivors, too, are speaking out. “Every interview I’ve seen mentions how locals helped,” says Seshu. “That’s the story we need to tell.” By centering these voices, the media can rebuild trust and counter the toxic narratives that have taken root.
A Path Forward: Healing Through Truth
The Role of Responsible Journalism
The crisis in Kashmir media coverage demands a reckoning. Journalists must prioritize facts over sensationalism, amplify local voices, and challenge divisive narratives. This means reporting the full story—the horror of the attack, the courage of locals, and the solidarity of a grieving valley. It also means holding the government accountable for its inaction on hate speech and misinformation.
Empowering Local Voices
Kashmiris like Arafat Ahmad, Nisar Ahmad, and countless others deserve to be heard. Their stories of resilience and humanity can bridge divides and counter stereotypes. Platforms like Maktoob and Kashmir Times are leading the way, but they need support from mainstream media and civil society to amplify their reach.
Curbing Social Media Hate
Social media platforms must take responsibility for curbing hate speech and misinformation. The IT Committee’s call for action is a start, but enforcement is key. X, Instagram, and YouTube should prioritize fact-checking and penalize accounts that incite violence, while amplifying voices of unity like Himanshi Narwal’s.
Rebuilding Kashmir’s Tourism
The economic fallout from the attack and boycott calls threatens thousands of livelihoods. Promoting Kashmir tourism as safe and welcoming, with campaigns highlighting local hospitality, can help rebuild trust. Survivors’ testimonies about Kashmiri kindness could be a powerful tool in this effort.
A Call for Unity
Himanshi Narwal’s plea for unity is a roadmap for healing. “Don’t blame Kashmiris,” she said. “We need justice, not division.” Her words, echoed by survivors and locals, remind us that tragedies like Pahalgam’s should unite, not divide. By embracing empathy and truth, India can honor the victims and rebuild a valley scarred by both violence and vilification.
Bottom-Line: A Valley Waiting to Heal
Pahalgam’s empty streets and Srinagar’s silent protests tell a story of a valley betrayed—not just by terror, but by the narratives that followed. Kashmir media coverage, driven by sensationalism and amplified by social media hate, has turned grief into division, courage into suspicion. Yet, amidst the noise, there are voices of hope: locals who risked their lives, survivors who speak of kindness, and journalists who fight for truth.
The path forward lies in responsible journalism, empowered communities, and a commitment to unity. By telling the full story—of horror and humanity—India can begin to heal Kashmir’s silent scars. The shopkeepers watching that YouTube video deserve more than clicks and comments. They deserve a narrative that sees them, hears them, and honors their resilience. Only then can the valley reclaim its peace.
