Recently, our news channels have been filled with headlines of India and Pakistan—clashing words, rising tension, and endless debates about who is right, who is wrong, and who would win if a war ever breaks out. Sitting on my sofa, watching those flashing screens, I can’t help but wonder: if we went to war, who would win? Would it be the side with more missiles? More soldiers? Both as nuclear weapons, so maybe both, or neither. Because in the end, what are we truly fighting for? Borders drawn on a map? Pride handed down by wounded histories? As I watched the heated anchors shouting over each other, I found my heart going silent. Not for the argument, but for the ordinary lives on both sides—people like me, who dream, cry, love, and hope. What would war give us, except more reasons to hate, more stories of loss, and more pieces of a shared past falling apart?
And that’s when a different question enters my mind: what if, instead of preparing for war, we prepared for peace? What if, instead of seeing each other as threats, we saw each other as relatives separated by politics, not by hearts? I often imagine myself as a daughter of India and see Pakistan as my cousin. Our elders may argue, hold grudges, or even try to justify violence in the name of justice, but do we, the younger ones, have to carry the same anger? Can’t we build something softer, more meaningful, and more hopeful with each other?
I see myself as a daughter of Mother India, and I see Pakistan as my cousin. When I asked Mother India why we fight, she said, "They attacked your brothers and sisters." But when I asked my cousins across the border, they said we were the ones who started it. And that’s when I thought—let our parents hold on to their grudges if they must, but why should we, the younger ones, carry that same anger? Why can’t we choose friendship instead—or at least, peace in our hearts?
Every time I see news about deaths on our side, it hurts. But strangely, when I hear about deaths on their side, it hurts too. Maybe that’s what true patriotism should feel like—not blind hate, but the ability to feel the pain of every life lost. I can understand politics, I can even understand national security—but it still stings, even when a terrorist dies. I can’t help but wonder what drives terrorists to find joy in killing others. Whatever may he the valid reason to kill others but isn't it immoral to kill other human beings to meet their demands? As Gandhi said An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.” Maybe we’ve all been walking in the dark for too long.
Sometimes I feel like saying, let the older generations continue their debates, but let us—the children—choose something different. Why should we inherit a war we never asked for?
I remember how, during the Kaveri water dispute between Karnataka and Tamil Nadu, a simple trend moved me: people from Karnataka offering one tumbler of water to Tamil people, symbolizing peace and understanding. It was such a small act, but it spoke volumes. If something like that ever happened between India and Pakistan—a gesture of love going viral—I’d feel so relieved, maybe even hopeful.
I already have a soft corner for the people of Pakistan. Recently, someone from our writers' group who is from Pakistan asked how we were doing and told us to stay safe. It was such a simple message, but it touched me deeply. It reminded me that love still exists between cousins, even if Mother India and her sister are still struggling to heal.
I once read a line by a poet that struck me deeply—“Had I met you in a bar, we might have shared a drink and a laugh. But we met on a battlefield, and if I didn’t kill you, you would’ve killed me. So I will kill you to be alive. Isn’t that the truth of war? It turns potential friends into enemies, not because they hate each other, but because they were told to. It makes me wonder—how many friendships, how many beautiful conversations, have we lost just because we met in the wrong setting?
I always wonder what if happen if Pakistan and India had never separated.. If India and Pakistan had never separated in 1947, maybe we would have grown into one of the strongest and most soulful nations in the world. Just think about it—a place where our combined population, strength, and culture could’ve created a global powerhouse, not just in terms of economy or politics, but in heart and humanity. There would have been no Partition pain, no broken families, no children growing up with stories of hate. Instead, we might have shared stories, songs, festivals, and food—Lahore’s poetry flowing into Lucknow, Karachi’s warmth meeting Kolkata’s charm, and Kashmir's beauty untouched by conflict. Without wars, without the constant tension, the energy could’ve gone into building schools, dreams, and friendships. Of course, managing such diversity would’ve been a challenge—but maybe a beautiful one, if met with love and maturity. A land where cricket was joy, not rivalry. A home where art, music, and emotions crossed every language and border. Maybe we would’ve still had disagreements—like siblings do—but under it all, there could’ve been a feeling of oneness. It makes me wonder: if we had the chance to build that kind of world again, even in small ways, why shouldn’t we?
There are many instances to say the conflict, but let me try to say incidents that showed the care between the two countries.. There have been many heartwarming moments when India and Pakistan showed friendship despite all the tensions. In 2005, after a powerful earthquake hit both sides of Kashmir, India sent aid and supplies to Pakistan, showing that humanity comes before politics. The Delhi–Lahore bus service, started in 1999, allowed people to meet family across the border and was filled with emotional reunions. In 2019, after Indian pilot Abhinandan was captured, Pakistan returned him safely—a gesture that helped reduce tension. The same year, the Kartarpur Corridor opened, letting Indian Sikh pilgrims visit a holy place in Pakistan without a visa, showing respect for faith and emotion. Even in cricket, players from both countries have shared warm moments, like when Virat Kohli gifted a bat to Mohammad Amir. A recent example is the beautiful friendship between Indian javelin thrower Neeraj Chopra and Pakistani athlete Arshad Nadeem. After the Tokyo Olympics, both spoke highly of each other, showing how sports can unite hearts beyond borders. And beyond all this, people from both sides continue to connect through writing, music, and kind conversations—like the one in my own writers’ group. These small gestures remind us that deep down, love and peace still live in many hearts.
In the end, it’s clear that despite the scars of history, the potential for friendship and understanding between India and Pakistan still exists. Our shared cultural heritage, deep-rooted in kindness, respect, and humanity, offers us a path to healing and reconciliation. Just as we have witnessed moments of peace and solidarity in the past, there’s always room for more. The future doesn’t have to be defined by conflict; it can be shaped by the choices we make today. By looking past borders and differences, we can build a world where love, respect, and mutual understanding take precedence over hatred and division. As we move forward, it’s essential to remember that true progress comes when we embrace our shared humanity and, in doing so, create a legacy.