After Pahalgam: Water, War, And The Nuclear Shadow Over South Asia – Analysis
South Asia finds itself locked in a fresh spiral of hostility and uncertainty. The terror strike in Kashmir’s Pahalgam on April 22, which claimed 26 lives, has triggered a dangerously familiar script between India and Pakistan. But this time, the escalation is different. It is more volatile, more multi-dimensional, and far more ominous. In a region already burdened by economic fragility, political instability, and deep-seated historical wounds, the aftermath of this latest attack has triggered a rapid deterioration in ties between the subcontinent’s two nuclear-armed neighbours.
From LoC counterfire to suspending the Indus Waters Treaty, from rallying international pressure to fast-tracking dam projects, India’s sweeping retaliatory posture marks a new phase of engagement, with several other steps yet to be deployed.
The suspension of the 1960 Indus Waters Treaty, the push to diplomatically isolate Pakistan, and the fast-tracking of stalled hydroelectric projects in Kashmir have intensified Islamabad’s paranoia. In response, Pakistan has launched missile tests, intensified cross-border fire, and fuelled old war cries over Kashmir. The Pakistani media has downplayed the Pahalgam massacre, while state actors continue to push the tired narrative of ‘Indian occupation.’
What is unfolding is not merely another Indo-Pakistani standoff. It is the disintegration of decades of diplomatic scaffolding, from Tashkent to Shimla, from Lahore to the Indus Treaty. It is the resurfacing of an anti-India narrative etched deep into Pakistan’s state identity. And it is the looming threat of a nuclear confrontation in a region that has already paid too high a price for political delusions and militant fantasies. Pahalgam, once a quiet haven in Kashmir’s Baisaran Valley, has become the epicentre of South Asia’s latest security crisis, one that threatens to escalate far beyond borders.
From Gunfire to Missiles
The days following the attack have been marked by relentless cross-border firing. For eleven consecutive nights, Pakistani forces opened small arms fire across the Line of Control (LoC), targeting Indian posts in Kupwara, Baramulla, Poonch, Rajauri, Mendhar, Naushera, Sunderbani, and Akhnoor. India’s response was swift and forceful. But the nature of Pakistan’s provocations didn’t stop at border skirmishes.
Islamabad’s military conducted two missile tests within two days, first a short-range missile with a 120 km range and then a surface-to-surface missile with a 450 km range. Though couched in the language of technical validation, these were unmistakable signals. The missiles flew not just to reassure domestic audiences but to disturb New Delhi.
Meanwhile, India’s Ministry of Defence has gone into high alert mode, with mock drills ordered across several states for May 7, aimed at ensuring “effective civil defence in the event of a hostile attack.” India is no stranger to terrorism spilling over from Pakistan, but this response shows the changed intensity of the present crisis.
The Breakdown of Diplomacy?
The tragedy of India-Pakistan relations lies not only in the wars fought but in the promises betrayed. From the 1960 Indus Waters Treaty, the 1966 Tashkent Agreement, the 1972 Shimla Accord, to the 1999 Lahore Declaration, both countries have attempted diplomacy, only to watch it collapse in the face of political expediency, ideological rigidity, or outright aggression.
Among these, the Indus Waters Treaty had long been hailed as a rare success, a functional instrument in a dysfunctional relationship. Brokered by the World Bank, it divided the six rivers of the Indus Basin between the two countries, with India receiving the eastern rivers (Ravi, Beas, Sutlej) and Pakistan the western ones (Indus, Jhelum, Chenab). The treaty even survived wars. But it did not survive Pahalgam.
India’s suspension of the Treaty, a retaliatory step following the terror attack, is not a symbolic move. It has material consequences. The National Hydroelectric Power Corporation has begun flushing operations at the Salal and Baglihar dams and halted water flow through Baglihar on the Chenab. Similar restrictions are being considered for the Kishanganga Dam on the Jhelum.
India is also accelerating construction on six long-stalled hydroelectric projects (Sawalkot (1,856 MW), Kirthai I and II (1,320 MW), Pakal Dul (1,000 MW), and others) that could increase Jammu and Kashmir’s power capacity to over 10,000 MW. These projects, while legal under treaty terms, send a clear message: the diplomatic playbook is being rewritten.
Islamabad calls this “water warfare.” But international law is on India’s side. The Treaty does not prohibit the development of run-of-the-river projects on western rivers. Still, the suspension signals a readiness to leverage every geopolitical tool available, including one that had long been off the table.
Muted Diplomacy, Loud Militarism
In tandem with these water-based responses, India has launched an intense diplomatic campaign. Finance Minister Nirmala Sitharaman reportedly urged the Asian Development Bank to stop funding projects in Pakistan. Several international airlines like Emirates, Lufthansa, Air France, British Airways have started avoiding Pakistani airspace. Global unease is evident. The UN Security Council is convening to discuss the deteriorating situation. But New Delhi is no longer banking on global sympathy alone.
For India, the attack fits a long-standing pattern of cross-border terrorism backed, tacitly or openly, by Pakistan’s military establishment. From the 1947 tribal invasion, the 1965 Rann of Kutch and Kashmir incursions, the 1971 Bangladesh war, to Kargil in 1999, the origin of every major conflict lies in Islamabad. While India has consistently emerged stronger, the cost has been steep, human lives, strategic disruptions, and economic dislocation.
The deeper concern now is not just about the military provocations but about the ideological rigidity in Pakistan that sustains them. From the earliest days of Partition, Pakistan has crafted a political identity in opposition to India, with Kashmir as the core of that animosity. The term “Indian Occupied Kashmir” dominates its media discourse, while areas captured by Pakistani forces in 1948 are glorified as “Azad” Kashmir. The textbook narrative in Pakistani schools paints India as the eternal aggressor. There is little room for reconciliation in such a framework.
Nuclear Overhang
What separates this crisis from earlier ones is the sharpened nuclear edge. Never before have two nuclear powers shared such intense hostility with such permeable and militarized borders. While India has consistently upheld a ‘No First Use’ policy, Pakistan’s repeated nuclear posturing and threats raise the stakes to terrifying levels.
Missile tests, mock drills, and suspended treaties have brought both nations alarmingly close to a tipping point. The façade of stability provided by earlier agreements is fraying. With Pakistan rejecting the Shimla Agreement and destabilizing the Line of Control, the foundational elements of diplomatic engagement have been undermined.
The spectre of nuclear confrontation is no longer hypothetical. As both countries deepen their arsenal and entrench military postures, the risk of miscalculation grows. One mistake, one misread radar, one rogue strike, could drag the subcontinent into a catastrophe it may not survive.
Narratives of Hate, and the Cost of Denial
At the heart of the crisis lies a bitter narrative. The Pakistani state has never accepted the legal and constitutional merger of Jammu and Kashmir with India. It cannot tolerate a functioning democracy in the region, especially when Pakistan-occupied Kashmir remains under a tightly controlled regime devoid of meaningful political rights.
Islamabad conveniently ignores its own domestic implosions, from Balochistan to the Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. These regions, like East Pakistan once did, reveal the ethnic and administrative fault lines within Pakistan. But rather than introspect, the ruling Punjabi political-military elite has repeatedly externalized blame, using India as the perpetual enemy to mask its failures.
In this context, anti-India rhetoric becomes a political necessity. The Bhutto dynasty’s promises of fighting for a thousand years for Kashmir continue to echo today through Bilawal Bhutto. But this narrative has only left Pakistan isolated, diplomatically fatigued, and economically battered.
Peace remains a distant dream so long as this state-manufactured hatred thrives. As long as the military, religious, and political elites in Pakistan continue to find utility in the Kashmir conflict, there will be no genuine movement toward reconciliation.
The Path Forward
There is no easy resolution to this crisis. But there are imperatives that must be recognized. First, international stakeholders, especially the United States, Russia, China, Saudi Arabia, and Iran, must increase pressure on Pakistan to rein in extremist forces and dismantle the terror infrastructure on its soil. Second, India must continue asserting its rights without losing sight of the broader need for stability.
The global equation has shifted. Pakistan is no longer in a position to dictate regional terms. Its strategic partner, China, may offer backing, but even Beijing has growing concerns about instability in South Asia.
Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s remarks on the futility of war in the Ukraine context should not be mistaken for passivity. India’s military readiness and water weaponization are messages of deterrence, not desperation. Peace cannot be imposed. But it can be envisioned—by sidelining the ideologies of hate, recognizing mutual dignity, and dismantling the myths that hold two nations hostage. Until Pakistan begins to question the cost of its obsessions, the suffering will persist, on both sides of the border. The terror in Pahalgam may have triggered the latest flashpoint, but the choices made in Islamabad and New Delhi in the coming weeks will determine whether South Asia remains on the edge, or steps back from it.