After the ceasefire; a plea for peace

I’m not a politician. I’m not a policymaker. I’m just an ordinary Pakistani — like millions of others — who wants to live in peace. This ceasefire should be a moment to breathe. A moment to reflect. But instead, even in this silence, the rhetoric of war grows louder — especially from across the border, where a certain faction is still not happy that the war did not happen. And I can’t stay silent.
Because I know what war brings. And because this ceasefire is not a solution — it’s a fragile pause. One that can break at the slightest provocation. One that will mean nothing if we don’t fight harder for peace than we do for revenge.
Terrorists who commit atrocities do not represent me, my family, or the 240 million people of my country. They are our enemies, too. We have buried our own after bombings in schools, markets and places of worship. We’ve stood over coffins of teachers, soldiers, parents and children.

Pakistan has paid a heavy price in the fight against terror. And yet, every time violence occurs, fingers are pointed — long before facts emerge, long before truth is known. Accusations become airstrikes. Grief turns into vengeance.

But this is not justice. It’s a blueprint for destruction.


The ceasefire should have reminded us that war hits people — not governments.
It hits children trying to sleep. Farmers in the fields. Families at dinner. It hits homes, not headlines.

India is a powerful nation. But war will not spare you either.
Two nuclear-armed countries cannot afford to play with fire. A single misstep, and the consequences will echo for generations.

We are alike, far more than we admit.


I grew up watching Bollywood films, singing Indian songs, and laughing at jokes that made no distinction between “us” and “them.” You hummed to Nusrat. We danced to A.R. Rahman. We cried to the same qawwalis and adored the same cricket heroes.

And abroad, we are friends. Colleagues. Neighbors. Even family.

So how did we become strangers at home?

Because we’ve allowed the war-mongers to dominate the conversation.
We’ve allowed hate to speak louder than humanity. And if we return to war, this ceasefire — this sliver of sanity — will mean nothing.

Don’t believe everything the MEDIA tells you. There is a constant flow of misinformation.

Understand there are factors bigger than only two countries wanting to fight, who want to do this!

The Pahalgam Attack Was Tragic — But Retaliation Without Proof Isn’t the Answer


What happened in Pahalgam was horrifying. Every Pakistani with a heart mourned. We know that kind of grief. We’ve lived it.

But attacking Pakistan without a shred of proof is just plain cowardly.

And the world saw how India wanted to escalate.

If we respond to one tragedy with another — if we turn sorrow into retaliation, and retaliation into policy — then we’re not seeking peace. We’re sabotaging it.

If you mourn for victims in Pahalgam, how can you cheer for bombs falling on civilians here?

Where is justice? Where is humanity?

Ceasefires are not meant to be pauses between wars. They are meant to be opportunities — to listen, to think, to rebuild trust.

Every time we attack each other, the real enemies — and the common man is left to clear the rubble.

The Silence of the Powerful Is the Loudest Betrayal


What’s worse than war rhetoric is the silence of those who know better.

The silence of artists, writers, public figures — those with influence.

To say nothing when hatred festers is not neutrality. It’s complicity.

Peace is not passive. It requires courage. It demands that we speak up — even when it’s uncomfortable. Especially then.

True patriotism isn’t about echoing war cries. It’s about resisting them when they lead us down a path of no return.

Siding with war makes you less of an artist and even lesser of a human.


From One Human to Another: Make This Ceasefire Count

Please — don’t let anger drown reason. Don’t let grief become a weapon.

Use this ceasefire as a turning point — not a breather before the next blow.

Don’t let this fragile peace be shattered by voices who won’t even be in the line of fire.

Speak up. Now.

Before the next war silences us all. And a nuclear war would let no one speak ever again.

Beware, the worst destruction doesn’t come from bombs — it comes from silence. From those who had the power to protect peace… and didn’t.

Let’s protect peace now — together..


 Share this if you believe a ceasefire is not the end of violence, but the beginning of hope. If you believe ordinary Indians and Pakistanis can write a future without war.

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