IN South Asia, the lines between terrorism and state warfare are increasingly blurred, creating confusion not only on the battlefield but also in regional politics.
India and the Taliban are two governments most observers would never expect to share a sentence, let alone a strategic calculation. One is a democracy led by Hindu nationalist politics, and the other, a hardline Islamist regime still unrecognized by much of the world.
Yet, in a region where power struggles define survival, even the most unlikely actors find room for conversation. What unites them is not ideology but necessity—the will to navigate isolation, assert influence, and manage internal vulnerabilities. When survival becomes the main currency in politics, old hostilities blur into new alignments. And that is precisely what seems to be unfolding between Kabul and Delhi, where history’s adversaries are beginning to see advantage in silent cooperation under the shadow of war.
At home, the Modi government was already under fire. Economic troubles, rising inflation, and growing dissent were putting pressure on once-confident leadership. A conflict with Pakistan, a familiar enemy, looked like an opportunity to rally the base and redirect public anger. But military losses, coupled with the lack of international endorsement, made the gamble backfire. The war drums stopped beating and are replaced by questions.Meanwhile, across the border in Kabul, the Taliban faced a storm of its own. Isolated from the international community and fractured from within, the regime struggled to maintain control. Fighters loyal to different commanders whispered doubts. Economic collapse pushed young men back toward old warlord loyalties. What better way to unify than to redirect attention? What better target than Pakistan, a country accused by many Afghans of harboring insurgents and meddling in Afghan affairs?
The Taliban began launching cross-border attacks, particularly after facing accusations of harboring the Tehrik-i-Taliban Pakistan (TTP). But unlike in the past, the Muslim world did not close ranks around Kabul. Key Islamic powers publicly urged the Taliban to immediately stop aiding militant groups. The narrative that Afghanistan was no longer a haven for international terrorism started to collapse, and with it, any moral high ground Kabul thought it held. The recent UN Security Council Monitoring Report gave weight to Islamabad’s claims, noting the presence and activities of TTP inside Afghan territory with the support of elements within the Taliban.
In both Delhi and Kabul, governments turned to a familiar playbook. And at the center of that playbook was Pakistan. What unites both cases are the way they have framed terrorism: either as a pretext to justify state aggression, or as a tool to be tacitly supported when it suits internal agendas.In India’s case, the so-calledmilitant groups operating from Pakistani soil have long served as a justification for false flag operations. In the Taliban’s case, support for groups like TTP becomes a strategic card, even if it draws global condemnation, used to keep Islamabad on edge and to distract from domestic instability.This shared strategic orientation, though shaped by different ideologies, has resulted in an unlikely convergence. Both governments find themselves isolated, pressured, and unable to fully control the narrative in global forums. Both face growing calls for accountability. And both have discovered that despite their deep-rooted differences, they share a common adversary and a common interest in weakening it. In South Asia today, the power no longer wears only a uniform. It wears masks, hides behind narratives, and sometimes sits quietly across from its old enemies, finding unexpected common ground.
—The writer is associated with IPRI as a research fellow and political commentator with specialization in global and regional politics.
