Iltija Mufti’s revelation about Vinay Narwal’s wife Himanshi: “Seeing her, we felt…”

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Pahalgam, Jammu & Kashmir — In the serene valley of Pahalgam, where snow-clad mountains whisper tales of timeless beauty and flowing rivers reflect the calm of nature, horror struck in broad daylight. What was supposed to be a tranquil trip for young couples turned into a nightmare when terrorists opened fire, taking innocent lives and shattering countless hearts across the nation.

On April 22, 2025, the picturesque town of Pahalgam turned into a scene of unspeakable tragedy. Two young men, Vinay Narwal and Shubham Dwivedi, who had come to the valley with their wives, became victims of a brutal terrorist attack that left the entire country reeling in grief.

Vinay Narwal, a Navy lieutenant originally from Karnal, Haryana, had only recently tied the knot with Himanshi on April 16. Just days into their new life together, the couple decided to celebrate their love with a visit to Pahalgam. But in a cruel twist of fate, Vinay was gunned down in front of Himanshi by unidentified terrorists. His dreams, his love, and his service to the nation—all extinguished in an instant.

Shubham Dwivedi, hailing from Kanpur, Uttar Pradesh, had come to the valley with his wife, Aashiya. He too was killed in the same attack, leaving behind a grieving partner and devastated family.

The attack, which was as senseless as it was sudden, has sparked outrage, sorrow, and reflection across India. As the news spread, politicians, public figures, and ordinary citizens expressed their anguish. Among them was Iltija Mufti, daughter of former Jammu and Kashmir Chief Minister and PDP chief Mehbooba Mufti.

“We Are Humans First”: Iltija Mufti Speaks From the Heart

Reacting emotionally to the tragedy, Iltija Mufti said, “Whatever happened was terrible, and we strongly condemn it. There is no place for violence—none whatsoever. Our hearts are broken.”

Her voice, though composed, carried the weight of sorrow. “Tourists come here as guests. To see them being attacked in broad daylight is heartbreaking. Two sisters lost their loved ones. Watching the video broke my heart,” she said, referring to the viral footage showing the aftermath of the incident.

She further emphasized, “What hurts me even more is that every time something like this happens, people ask us—‘Do you feel bad?’ Of course we feel bad. Why wouldn’t we? Before being Kashmiris, before being Muslims or Indians, we are human beings. As humans, this breaks our hearts just like it breaks yours.”

Her words struck a chord across social media, where users lauded her for speaking out as both a Kashmiri and a fellow citizen of India.

A Complex Grief in a Complicated Region

Jammu and Kashmir has long been a region marred by conflict, politics, and deep-seated wounds. For over three decades, the valley has witnessed violence from both terrorism and counterinsurgency operations. But in moments like these, the pain is universal.

“I’ve lived here all my life. I know countless women whose sons were in the CRPF, the Army, or police—and they were martyred,” Iltija said. “There isn’t a single woman here who hasn’t wept.”

She also raised concerns about the perception of Kashmiris across the country. “It is deeply unfair that when something like this happens, the entire Kashmiri community is scrutinized. People forget our pain, our losses, our humanity.”

In a poignant moment, she mentioned how even senior leaders like Union Home Minister Amit Shah, when they visit Kashmir, are shielded or disconnected from the real sentiments of people. “It’s easy to take decisions in New Delhi. But here, on the ground, people suffer. We need a more humane approach.”

A Call for Humanity Amid Policy and Politics

While condemning the terror attack unequivocally, Iltija also gently criticized the current administration’s handling of the region. “I believe our government thinks it’s taking necessary steps. But somewhere along the line, I feel we also need to act with a little more humanity. These are not just political moves—these are lives.”

Her remarks reflected the sentiment that Kashmir cannot only be approached through the lens of security. The region needs healing, understanding, and empathy.

The government has repeatedly asserted that post-2019 abrogation of Article 370, peace and development have returned to the region. And indeed, tourist numbers have surged. But the Pahalgam attack has exposed the lingering vulnerabilities.

A Nation United in Grief

As the families of the victims prepare to carry their loved ones back home for final rites, there is a collective cry of pain across India. In Karnal, the Narwal family has been surrounded by neighbors and relatives trying to comfort Himanshi, who witnessed her husband’s brutal death with her own eyes. In Kanpur, the Dwivedi family mourns the loss of a son, a husband, a companion.

Leaders from all political parties, including Prime Minister Narendra Modi and Home Minister Amit Shah, have condemned the attack and assured that those responsible will be brought to justice. Security forces have launched search operations in the region and cordoned off areas believed to be linked to the attackers.

But beyond the operations and condemnations lies a deeper, more painful truth—the loss is irreversible.

Humanity Over Hatred

Terrorism has no religion, no race, and no justification. And yet, every act of terror tries to divide—by inciting anger, provoking revenge, and deepening mistrust. But voices like Iltija Mufti’s remind us that there is another path—one of shared humanity.

Her insistence that Kashmiris also mourn these deaths is a powerful counter to those who seek to vilify an entire community. “Our hearts are also broken,” she repeated, “just like yours.”

This collective grief, this shared pain, is what binds us. Whether in Kanpur or Karnal, Srinagar or Pahalgam, the loss of a loved one is the same. The tears of a wife, the silence of a grieving father, the shattered dreams of a young couple—these are universal.

Where Do We Go From Here?

The Pahalgam attack is not just a terror strike—it is a moral reminder. As India grapples with the implications, both security-wise and socially, we must ask: How do we prevent such tragedies? How do we ensure that tourists, soldiers, and civilians are safe? And just as importantly, how do we foster unity rather than division?

In the face of terror, the greatest act of defiance is compassion. The strongest resistance is refusing to hate.

As we remember Vinay Narwal and Shubham Dwivedi, let us also remember what they stood for: love, hope, and dreams. Let us honor their memory not with more violence, but with resilience, understanding, and humanity.

Because in the end, as Iltija Mufti said so simply yet so powerfully, “We are humans first.”