Pahalgam – Sitting With the Grief

First Things First

News of the shooting in Pahalgam. Twenty-six people shot dead. Many injured. One of the most beautiful places on earth once again scarred by a monstrous act of violence.

The headline flashes on your screen, and your breath catches. You pause. You click.

And then—what’s the first thing you do?

Did you immediately think of someone you know—someone traveling in that region, someone who posted vacation pictures recently? Did you check in with them? Did a quiet fear creep in about your own future travels, about the illusion of safety?

The Immediate Emotions

There’s often a flood of emotion in moments like this. Did you feel anger—at the attackers, at religious fanaticism, at the security systems that keep failing?

Did you feel numb? Shocked? Overwhelmed?

And what about grief—was it immediate, or did it come slowly, with each new detail? Sometimes, it sneaks in through the stories of the victims, through names, photos, details of their lives and relationships. 

When Empathy Begins to Surface

When the names, faces, and personal stories emerge—do you feel the ache in your chest? Do you picture their morning before the horror unfolded? Their plans, their laughter, their quiet thoughts?

And then—without knowing how—you’re transported to a moment when your own safety was stolen, when you were violated, afraid, or powerless.
It might seem unrelated, but your body remembers. Your heart recognises pain. You contract with the fear or weep as the fear gives way to sorrow. 

The Illusion of Distance

You might remind yourself that this is not your tragedy. But what if it is? Not in the way of ownership, but of shared humanity. We like to believe we are separate. Safer. But we are not. We are one. Every loss is ours.

What drives someone to kill another human being? How broken must a soul be to inflict this kind of pain? And what does it say about us, about our world, that such violence is still possible, still frequent, still horrifying?

​

A Pause Before Reacting

It’s easy to rage. To share political takes, to forward the latest theory, to comment and condemn.

But what if, for a moment, you didn’t?
What if you gave yourself space to feel?
To sit with the ache, the horror, the helplessness?

This is not weakness. This is what makes us human.
Grieve.
Not just for the lives lost. But for the part of you that keeps having to survive this kind of news.

Grieve for a world where children witness horror.
Grieve because you still care. Because your soul refuses to be numb.

 The Essence of Presence 

There will be calls for justice, for reform, for vengeance. But before all of that, this moment is yours. And it is ours. A space to feel the full weight of what’s been lost. To remember we are not just spectators of tragedy. We are its inheritors.

How we respond matters. Not just in words, but in presence.

What would it take to meet this ?

Not  with numbness.
Not with instant outrage.
But with presence. With humanity. With reflection.

That’s the only way things might begin to shift and.