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What happened on Tuesday in Kashmir is a heart-wrenching tragedy that has left the nation in shock and mourning. It shook the entire nation in ways we are still coming to terms with. Innocent people lost their lives, families were torn apart, beliefs were questioned, and peace in the country was lost.
As details of the incident unfolded, an outpouring of grief and solidarity emerged across the country, both in personal spaces and on social media. People offered their condolences to those who lost their loved ones and to the survivors who lived through the horror. They even took to social media to express outrage and called out authorities to take strict and immediate action.
But as time passes, something more unsettling is unfolding—both offline and online.
Offline, the impact is brutal.
Kashmiris are losing their livelihood, which depends heavily on tourism. It is seeing a sudden and sharp decline. Beyond the Valley, Kashmiris living in other parts of India are reporting increased hostility, profiling, and verbal abuse, further exacerbating an already sensitive situation.
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The online aftermath is equally troubling, if not more.
Yes, there are users who have used their platforms responsibly—calling for calm, advocating peace, and reminding us that terrorism knows no religion. Unfortunately, others are exploiting the moment. Misinformation is being shared. Serious events are being wrapped in trending formats. Sensationalism is winning over sensitivity. Shifting the focus away from the core issue—grief and justice.
What has particularly drawn criticism is a trend among users sharing archived vacation photos from Kashmir to express condolences or highlight its beauty. Though likely well-intentioned, such posts appear tone-deaf in the current context, lacking empathy and highlighting the disconnect from reality. At a time when families are in mourning and a region is grappling with tragedy, showcasing idyllic imagery of shikaras and snow-clad peaks doesn't reflect the pain we all feel. This is not the time to romanticise that Kashmir holiday.
This is not about questioning anyone's personal intent. It's about understanding that grief is not a backdrop for your holiday archive. At this time, aestheticising the landscape in a moment of collective trauma feels insensitive.
And it doesn't stop there!
We're seeing AI-generated images of deceased victims turned into "memorial-style" Ghibli avatars. We're seeing clickbait videos, fake videos portrayed as the last video of the deceased, their wedding photos with clickbaity captions, viral audio trends slapped onto tragic footage, and social media users and media houses leveraging tragedy. All this is not paying tribute.
Isn't it all crossing ethical lines?
When did empathy become negotiable?
When did mourning become a trending format?
This brings us to the broader issue of digital decorum during national crises. As one section of the internet mourns, another seems to commodify tragedy. This isn't about censorship—it's about sensibility.
Dear social media users, not everything is content.
Dear media houses, not everything is a clickable headline.
Dear trend-chasers, not everything needs a format.
As the nation comes to terms with this tragedy, citizens, content creators, and media outlets alike must reflect on their digital behaviour.
Kashmir is bleeding. Let us not drown its cries in filters, trends, and noise. Let this be a moment of collective mourning!
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