Pahalgam, Operation Sindoor | As borders flare up again, anxiety grips Srinagar despite 'normalcy'

'There is a knot in my stomach. We’ve seen this so many times, yet it never gets easier,' Parveena Begum from Srinagar says. 'My son works near the airport. I called him five times today just to hear his voice.'

Srinagar: As the border once again crackled with gunfire and explosions, following Indian air strikes on terror camps in Pakistan and Pakistan-occupied Kashmir (PoK), life in Srinagar moved on — not out of indifference, but out of habit born of decades of living on the edge.

The Indian strikes came in swift retaliation to the April 22 Pahalgam terror attack, which left 26 civilians, most of them tourists, dead — a massacre that shocked the nation and drew widespread condemnation.

Less than two hours after the Indian strikes, Pakistani troops launched heavy cross-border shelling along the Line of Control and International Border across Jammu and Kashmir, plunging several frontier villages into chaos and fear. At least 10 civilians have lost their lives, while dozens remain injured, many critically.

But in Srinagar, the capital city, it was paradoxically a normal day. Shops opened, buses ferried passengers, cafés buzzed with chatter, and most of the schoolchildren returned from classes. Yet, the calm on the streets belied the storm brewing within.

In the old city’s narrow lanes and the more affluent neighbourhoods of Rajbagh, Hyderpora and Sanantnagar, conversations were marked by concern, weariness, and quiet prayers. Families huddled around TV sets watching footage of missile trails and border shelling, their faces tense with memories of past wars.

“There is a knot in my stomach. We’ve seen this so many times, yet it never gets easier,” said Parveena Begum, a housewife in old city Srinagar. “My son works near the airport. I called him five times today just to hear his voice.”

Faheem Ahmad, a university student sipping cappuccino in a posh café in Hyderpora along Airport Road, tried to appear calm but admitted to the fear. “We’ve grown up hearing stories of Kargil, of cross-border raids, of nights spent under blackout. I want peace, but I also want justice for those who were killed in Pahalgam.”

Security forces have been put on high alert across the Union Territory, anticipating possible retaliatory action or unrest. While no official curbs were imposed in Srinagar, many residents chose to head home early, stocking up on essentials just in case.

Security personnel keep vigil during checking of vehicles amid high alert in Srinagar.

“There’s a strange mix of resilience and helplessness in Kashmir,” said Mushtaq Mir, a shopkeeper. “You go to work, you serve customers, you smile. But deep inside, you’re praying — for the shelling to stop, for war not to happen, for children to sleep peacefully.”

The looming fear of a full-scale war is not just a strategic concern here — it’s personal.

War, for Kashmiris, has never been a distant headline. As one retired teacher summed it up while watching the news with his grandchildren: “We don’t want to be brave anymore. We just want to be safe.”

And so, while the borders blaze, Srinagar carries on — quietly, nervously, and prayerfully — hoping that this time, perhaps, post this conflict there will be permanent peace.