On this day last year, the Baisaran meadows of Pahalgam became the site of a horrific terror attack that claimed 26 innocent lives, most of them tourists. The assault sent shockwaves not just across the country but around the globe. A year later, Kashmir is limping towards recovery; healing is still some distance away. The tragedy’s shadow lingers most painfully over the grieving families and in the silent despair of countless households whose livelihoods have been impaired.While the Indian state responded decisively with Operation Sindoor, the security forces eliminated the perpetrators in a counter-operation, delivering immediate justice. Beyond the strike itself, Operation Sindoor marked a significant doctrinal shift in India’s counterterrorism policy: Major attacks on Indian soil would now trigger calibrated conventional retaliation without the need to definitively establish Pakistan’s direct state complicity.AdvertisementThis muscular posture, visible since the 2016 Uri attack, has evoked an enthusiastic response from Indian civil society and popular culture, with a wave of films and mass-media narratives emerging. While these productions often carry a heavy dose of propaganda, their success nonetheless reflects a deepening societal engagement and a welcome hardening of the national narrative around cross-border terrorism — and unfortunately on Kashmir, too, to some extent.Compare, for instance, Aditya Dhar’s blockbuster Dhurandhar (2025) with Mani Ratnam’s 1992 classic Roja. Where Roja sought to explore the human and political complexities of Kashmir — its pain, its aspirations, and the human cost on all sides — the newer wave of cinema is singularly focused on terrorism itself, on the machinery of response, and on unapologetic assertions of national will. Kashmir, in these stories, almost recedes to the background as a mere theatre for larger battles rather than a land with its own layered realities.Yet the human cost remains searing. None of the images from that day is more haunting than that of a newlywed woman holding the lifeless body of her husband, her dreams destroyed in a single moment of mindless violence. The attack claimed lives and much more. It violated the deepest sensibilities and traditional values of Kashmiri society. By targeting tourists, the assailants struck at the moral core of humanity. The incident shook Kashmiri society to its core, triggering a wave of collective grief, outrage and trauma that cut across political and community lines.AdvertisementThe economic fallout has been enduring and become increasingly painful. What began as an exodus of visitors in the immediate aftermath has hardened into a sustained slump. Tourist arrivals crashed through last year. Even the Tulip Festival saw footfalls drop sharply this year, from over eight lakh visitors to barely a third of its peak. The “tulip hotspot” that had begun to symbolise Kashmir’s soft power and seasonal promise now tells a story of hesitation and fear. The ripple effects have reached small vendors who depend on the summer rush.The impact goes beyond livelihood. Historically, in Kashmir, tourists have been harbingers and ambassadors of socio-economic integration with the mainland, respectful of cultural diversity. Kashmiris can survive without incomes from tourism but cannot live in social isolation in Kashmir and ostracisation in the rest of the country.This is not going to be another seasonal dip. Globally, economic uncertainty looms. Recent developments in India-US trade relations and the easing of import duties on American apples have dealt a severe blow. The Indian economy faces its own headwinds: Uneven recovery, high youth unemployment, and questions over the quality of growth. In such an environment, a local economy already reeling from one shock has little margin for error. The anxiety goes beyond tourist spots in the orchards of Shopian and Sopore, where it is palpable. The local economy is staring at tough times and can implode under pressure.The deeper irony is that the promised economic renaissance and genuine empowerment of the people after the political changes have not materialised in any meaningful way. Investment has not surged as hoped. The result is a J&K that has seen its political architecture altered dramatically, but whose people continue to wait for the dividends of normalcy, jobs, and dignity.you may likeThe much-hyped integration has so far translated more into administrative centralisation than into tangible economic opportunity or political agency for ordinary Kashmiris. If anything, in the weeks and months following Pahalgam, incidents of harassment, intimidation and violence against Kashmiris — students in universities, shawl sellers in markets, traders and ordinary migrants — rose sharply across several parts of the country. Many of these acts have gone largely unpunished, with little visible action to protect innocent citizens or hold perpetrators accountable. Such backlash not only deepens the sense of alienation but also undermines the very idea of a shared national fabric, which the post-2019 political changes were meant to strengthen.A year after Pahalgam, the message is somewhat sombre and sobering. The political reengineering has not eliminated terrorism. The economic costs of insecurity are immediate and painful. And the grand political project that was meant to transform Kashmir has, so far, delivered changes in form but not in substance, where it matters most to ordinary lives.The anniversary of Pahalgam should not merely be a day of remembrance. It must also be a moment for reflection on what has been achieved — and what, painfully, has not.The writer is former finance minister, Jammu and Kashmir