A Honeymoon in Hell: The Heartbreaking Story of Shubham’s Family in the Pahalgam Terror Attack

Prologue: A Journey Meant for Joy

It was meant to be a celebration of new beginnings. Shubham and his wife, Ishanya, had only been married two months. Their love story was young, vibrant, and full of promise. Along with Shubham’s family—eleven in total—they set out for Kashmir, the so-called “Heaven on Earth,” for their first family trip together. They had heard stories of the valley’s restored peace, its breathtaking beauty, and the safety that the omnipresent Indian Army seemed to guarantee. No one could have imagined that this journey would turn into a nightmare, leaving scars that would never heal.

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The Day That Changed Everything

It was an ordinary afternoon in Pahalgam, filled with laughter and the anticipation of a family adventure. The group had reached the top of a popular tourist spot and ordered Maggi noodles and coffee, enjoying the scenic views and each other’s company. Ishanya and her sister-in-law sat a short distance away, giving the newlyweds some privacy. Shubham, ever the playful husband, teased his sister-in-law about stealing her coffee, everyone smiling, oblivious to the storm about to break.

Suddenly, a man approached from behind. He wore jeans and a t-shirt—nothing to mark him as a threat. In a place bustling with tourists and sports activities, there was nothing unusual about his appearance. But then, in a chilling moment, he pulled out a gun and pointed it at Shubham and Ishanya.

“Are you Hindu or Muslim?” he demanded.

Ishanya recalls that moment with haunting clarity. “We turned to him with a smile, thinking he was just making conversation. We didn’t know. We were just enjoying the view. We said, ‘We are Hindu,’ with pride. And I am proud we said it. But before we could even finish the sentence, he shot Shubham—right there, in front of me.”

The bullet was merciless. Shubham’s life ended in an instant, his head in Ishanya’s lap. There was no time for last words, no chance for a final “I love you.” The world, for Ishanya, shattered in a single gunshot.

The Terror Unleashed

What followed was chaos and carnage. The attack lasted nearly an hour—an eternity when every second is filled with fear and death. The terrorists moved methodically, asking each person their religion before deciding their fate. Women who begged for mercy were told to go home and tell their government; only the men were targeted. The attackers seemed to know no help would come, that they had time to carry out their horror.

“I could hear the gunshots, again and again, echoing through the mountains,” Ishanya says. “They kept shooting, moving from person to person, asking, ‘Hindu or Muslim?’ and killing those who answered ‘Hindu.’”

The family was paralyzed with fear. Shubham’s father, mother, and sister were all there, witnessing the unimaginable. As bodies fell around them, survival instincts kicked in. Ishanya’s sister, despite her own terror, dragged her and their mother towards the gate, desperate to escape.

“There were so many people,” she recalls. “We begged the horsemen to help us, to take us down the mountain. But they refused. They said, ‘You are not our customers, we can’t help you.’ We had to make our way down ourselves, stumbling over rocks, my parents bleeding and injured, just trying to survive.”

Abandoned by Help

Perhaps the most devastating part of the ordeal was the utter absence of help. For nearly an hour, as the family fled down the treacherous mountainside, there was no rescue, no police, no army. When they finally reached the base, they saw three Jammu & Kashmir police officers standing idly, unwilling or unable to help.

“We begged them,” Ishanya says, her voice breaking. “We said, ‘My husband is up there, people are trapped, please help!’ But they just said, ‘We can’t do anything.’ Only later, as we were leaving, did we see army trucks coming up the mountain. By then, it was too late.”

The sense of betrayal was profound. The family had trusted the safety of Kashmir, the presence of the military, the assurances of the government. Now, all that trust was gone, replaced by a cold, numbing realization: they were on their own.

Suspicion and Betrayal

In the days that followed, as the family replayed the events in their minds, doubts and suspicions grew. The horsemen who had insisted they go up the mountain, the lone shepherd in the field, the locals speaking in Kashmiri on their phones—at the time, nothing seemed amiss. In retrospect, every detail became suspect.

“I remember now, they kept asking us to go up, even when some of us were scared and wanted to turn back,” Ishanya says. “They argued with us for ten minutes, insisting it was beautiful at the top. My father-in-law offered to pay them and leave, but they refused. Now I wonder, were they trying to keep us there for a reason?”

Even the way the attackers blended in—jeans, t-shirts, no army uniforms—suggested a level of local complicity. Weapons had to be supplied, information had to be shared. The family now believes that some of the locals may have been involved, or at least aware of what was about to happen.

A Widow’s Grief

For Ishanya, the pain is raw and unending. She had known Shubham for only six months before they married, but in that short time, he had become her world. “He was a beautiful soul,” she says, tears streaming down her face. “He never spoke ill of anyone, never got involved in anything negative. He loved me so much, treated me with such care. He would even blow on my food to cool it, because I can’t eat hot food.”

Their plans for the future—a life of love, travel, and family—were destroyed in seconds. “He had traveled to 28 countries, always returning home safely. This was our first family trip. We believed Kashmir was safe. But he was killed in his own country, in front of my eyes.”

The trauma has left her hollow. “Something inside me died that day,” she confesses. “All the women who saw their husbands die in front of them, something inside them died too. We are just surviving now.”

A Sister’s Courage

While Ishanya was paralyzed by shock, her sister-in-law became the family’s unlikely savior. “My sister lost all sense after the shooting,” she says. “I had to drag her and my mother to the gate. I couldn’t find my father for a long time. Shots were being fired, people were falling. Finally, I saw him at another gate and rushed everyone there.”

Even then, help was nowhere to be found. “We begged the horsemen, but they wouldn’t help. We were just running, stumbling down the mountain. My parents are over 60, they were injured, but we had no choice. We couldn’t trust anyone. In ten seconds, we lost all our trust.”

Aftermath: Anger and Demands for Justice

In the aftermath, the family is left with more questions than answers. They are grateful for the government’s steps—canceling treaties, seizing terrorist properties—but they do not believe it is enough.

“We were shot dead in seconds because we were Hindu,” Ishanya says. “Burning a couple of houses, canceling treaties—what does that achieve? These terrorists are not always from Pakistan. They may be right here. Find them, kill them, shoot them in front of their families. That is revenge. Burning a house is not revenge.”

The family demands a thorough investigation—not just into the terrorists, but also into possible local involvement. “When we recall everything, we realize maybe the locals were involved. There should be an investigation. We want the harshest punishment for those responsible.”

A Broken Trust

Perhaps the greatest casualty of the attack, beyond the lives lost, is the trust that has been shattered. “We used to believe Kashmir was safe,” Ishanya says. “We trusted the people, the army, the government. Now, I don’t know if that trust can ever be rebuilt.”

The family is now haunted by every detail—every conversation, every suspicious glance. “They kept asking us to walk in couples, kept insisting we go up. At the time, we thought nothing of it. Now, we realize those were warnings. We just didn’t see them.”

A Message to Other Tourists

Ishanya’s message to other tourists is stark and unambiguous. “If you want people to visit Kashmir, end terrorism. If you can’t, then don’t go. We are the ones funding these terrorists. We pay money, and then we are killed. Don’t go unless you know it’s safe.”

A Call for Unity—And Reality

The attack has also left Ishanya with conflicted feelings about the ongoing debate over Hindu-Muslim unity. “They asked our religion before killing us. It was about being Hindu. I never believed in dividing people by religion—Shubham had many Muslim friends, I have taught many Muslim students. But now, I see the reality. If we had said we were Muslim, we would have survived. It’s not about unity; it’s about survival.”

Epilogue: A Family Torn Apart

The Narwal family’s story is one of unimaginable loss, but also of courage, resilience, and a desperate search for justice. They have lost a son, a husband, a brother—and with him, their innocence and sense of security.

As the government investigates, as the nation mourns, the family’s only demand is that those responsible are brought to justice. “We want the harshest punishment,” they say. “We want to make sure no other family goes through what we have.”

In sharing their story, they hope to open the nation’s eyes—not just to the horror of terrorism, but to the hidden wounds that never heal.

This is the story of Shubham’s family—a story of love, loss, and the indomitable human spirit in the face of terror.