Rajouri: People gather near a damaged property after alleged heavy firing and shelling by Pakistan military overnight across the Line of Control and International Border, at Irwan Khanetar village in Rajouri, Jammu and Kashmir, Wednesday, May 7, 2025. At least three civilians were killed and ten injured in the incident, according to officials.
Credit: PTI
Srinagar: Grief, fear, and heartbreak have gripped the border villages of Jammu and Kashmir after Indian armed forces as part of 'Operation Sindoor' carried out a precision missile attack on nine terror targets inside Pakistan and Pakistan-occupied Kashmir on the night of May 6–7.
Hours later, the Pakistani army responded with heavy mortar shelling on forward Indian villages along the Line of Control (LoC), killing three civilians and wounding several others.
The shells rained down in the early hours of Wednesday (May 7), turning peaceful homes into rubble, fields into craters, and calm nights into nightmares.
The Pakistani army pounded forward areas from Krishna Ghati, Shahpur and Mankote in Poonch, Laam, Manjakote and Gambeer Brahmana in Rajouri district in Jammu region and Karnah area of north Kashmir’s Kupwara district with relentless mortar fire, killing three civilians and wounding several others. The blasts tore through quiet hamlets, turning them into warzones.
Families fled in darkness, barefoot and panicked, many taking refuge in underground bunkers where available.
Schools across the LoC areas in Poonch, Rajouri, and Kupwara were closed indefinitely as shelling continued through the morning.
From Srinagar, this reporter spoke to several terrified villagers by phone. Their voices, heavy with pain, told stories of panic, desperation, and prayers whispered in the dark.
“We thought we wouldn’t see the morning,” sobbed Shakeela Bano from Karnah.
“My children were crying, holding my hands, asking if we were going to die. What could I say? I had no answer. I just held them close and prayed. Shells were exploding around us like it was the end of the world,” said Bano.
In Mendhar, 60-year-old Noor Din described the night as “scariest” in recent years. “It felt like the earth was tearing apart. They’re fighting their wars. But we are the ones dying. Why should we suffer? Why should the future of our children burn in this fire?” he asked.
In border villages, schools have been shut, families have abandoned homes, and children now wake to the sound of gunfire instead of school bells.
In homes, mosques, and fields, still smoldering from shelling, people are folding their hands, raising their eyes to the sky, and whispering the same prayer: “Khuda ke liye, aman de do… Please, God, give us peace.”