IN the once-serene valley of Azad Kashmir, a tragic event recently unfolded that has shaken the collective conscience of the nation.
In Tarar, a village near Hussain Kot in the Rawalakot region, a deadly encounter claimed the lives of four terrorists, including two brothers from Bagh district.
In this bloody exchange, two brave police constables were martyred and five others were injured.
Echoes of gunfire in a land of peace: Azad Kashmir, despite decades of Indian cross-border shelling and aggression, has remained internally peaceful.
But this incident marks a chilling shift—it signals that the enemy is no longer confined to our borders but is infiltrating the minds of our youth.
The police constables who laid down their lives in Rawalakot were more than uniformed sentinels; they were sons, brothers, and fathers who had pledged themselves to the security of the state.
When Constable Tariq Bashir and his colleague Gulfaraz left home in uniform that day, they carried with them the silent prayers of their families.
But when their bodies returned, draped in the national flag, the air was thick with sobs and sorrow.
From sons of the soil to symbols of tragedy: On the other side of this grim episode were two young men—Zarnosh Naseem and Gibran Naseem—whose lives took a devastating turn toward extremism.
Once the pride of their home, the center of their parents’ dreams and aspirations, their transformation into radicals ended not just in personal tragedy but in public disgrace.
When their lifeless bodies returned to their homes, only screams, regret, and painful questions remained.
Their parents, particularly their father Raja Naseem, have publicly insisted that their sons were not terrorists but patriotic citizens.
In a lengthy social media video, he defended their innocence.
Yet, conflicting narratives have emerged.
Saqib, an associate of the brothers, was arrested with a car full of weapons near Azad Pattan.
In his statement, he confessed to involvement in the murder of Constable Sajad Resham and other crimes.
He also admitted connections with Dr.
Rauf, a known extremist from Jherr Ghaniabad, and Ghazi Shehzad—individuals allegedly working to turn Azad Kashmir into a theater for the Tehreek-e-Taliban Afghanistan (TTA).
While Saqib is now in police custody, others from the group remain at large, hiding underground.
The threat hasn’t vanished—it has simply gone into the shadows.
A deeper illness: ideological poison, not just violence: This tragedy is not just about bullets and bloodshed—it is a symptom of something deeper: ideological corruption, educational vacuum, parental helplessness, and societal negligence.
Zarnosh’s radicalization can be traced back to 2021, when he threw a shoe at federal minister Ali Amin Gandapur and was absurdly hailed as a “hero” on social media.
That moment of defiance was not courage—it was the first crack in a moral decline.
When truth is buried under the noise of populism, extremism finds refuge in false narratives.
The connection between Zarnosh and extremists like Dr.
Rauf—reportedly linked to the TTA—exposes a disturbing reality.
These figures prey on emotional and idealistic youth, luring them with promises of jihad, revolution, or spiritual redemption.
In truth, their only goal is to weaken the state and bolster hostile propaganda.
Guns or pens?
noise or wisdom?
: We must decide—will we arm our youth with pens or with guns?
Will we offer them reason or noise?
The burden is collective: parents, teachers, clerics, politicians, and the media must recognize that youth require not only physical sustenance but also ideological nourishment.
When we fail to offer intellectual sanctuary, the poison in the enemy’s narrative can seem like a cure.
Framing the state and its constitution as the enemy only drives more youth into destruction.
The constitution is not a prison—it is protection.
Our institutions are not oppressors—they are guardians.
If they require reform, the path is dialogue—not disorder or insurgency.
Our educational system must evolve to teach tolerance and constructive dissent.
Salute to the guardians of peace: Our security forces stand as steadfast walls against every assault from the enemy.
The officers who died in Hussain Kot were more than uniforms—they embodied sacrifice, integrity, and duty.
Their martyrdom was not in vain.
In Banjosa, during Tariq Bashir’s funeral, citizens from all walks of life united in a resounding message: we are ready to lay down our lives for the motherland.
There was no sense of defeat—only the pride of victory in having foiled a vile conspiracy.
Among the injured, one name stands out in heartbreaking clarity—Constable Zeeshan, whose both arms were torn apart by a terrorist-fired bomb shell.
Now living as a double amputee, Zeeshan is not just a survivor—he is a living testament to the brutal cost of our internal war against extremism.
His sacrifice, though not mortal, is no less monumental.
He will forever carry the physical and emotional scars of a battle he fought not for glory, but for the safety of ordinary citizens.
Let us remember: the courage of our defenders is not only etched on tombstones, but also written on the living bodies and wounded hearts of those who stood between terror and the innocent.
Beyond grief—toward reform and responsibility: If today we can feel the grief of Zarnosh and Gibran’s parents, let us use that emotion as a call to action.
We need reform, not revenge; insight, not hate; unity, not division.
India’s recent aggression, disinformation campaigns, and social media warfare remind us that modern conflict is not just about weapons—but about narratives.
When our own children are weaponized against us, it means our roots are under attack.
And the only true defense is national unity.
A nation under visionary leadership: Under the visionary leadership of Field Marshal Syed Asim Munir, the Pakistan Armed Forces stand ready to counter every threat.
We place our full trust in his strategic clarity, unwavering commitment, and national philosophy.
But this is not the army’s battle alone—it is the nation’s.
And it will not be won through force alone, but through wisdom, conviction, and moral resilience.
While our military defends the borders, our police remain ever vigilant to curb internal unrest.
Both are vital cogs in the machinery of national security.
This article is not merely an analysis of a tragic incident—it is a cry of the national soul.
A single question echoes: what legacy will we leave for our future generations?
Awareness or chaos?
Truth or noise?
If we fail to revive the tradition of honest dialogue and intellectual discourse today, tomorrow this land may remain only a geography, not a living ideology.
We must vigilantly observe every moment, every decision, every ideology that could lead another youth down the path of Zarnosh and Gibran.
Because if one more soul falls into that abyss, the blame will rest on all of us.
—The writer is a Supreme Court lawyer and former member & Chairman Standing Committee of Azad Jammu and Kashmir Council. Islamabad([email protected])
