India fired missiles into Pakistan Wednesday two weeks after a massacre of civilian tourists in Pahalgam, Kashmir.
Witnesses said they were picnicking in a meadow on April 22 when men carrying guns ambushed them, demanding to know their religion. They ordered the victims to recite an Islamic declaration of faith, survivors said.
Then, they shot and killed 26 men in front of their wives and children. Among the murdered 23 Hindus, two Christians and a local Muslim tour guide. Witnesses said Syed Adil Hussain Shah, a pony guide, died fighting to protect the tourists.
India accused Pakistan of backing, what it called, a terrorist attack a charge that Pakistan has denied.
A haunting photograph of Himanshi Narwal has become the face of the terror attack. Her husband, Indian Naval Lt. Vinay Narwal, was murdered on their honeymoon, just days before his 27th birthday.
The killings are triggering old trauma, said Karishma Ganjoo, a Hindu Kashmiri Pandit in 窪蹋勛圖厙.
The lady sitting with red bangles, which is called chooda, [which] most of the Hindu women wear right after they get married, sitting quietly next to her husband's dead body, Ganjoo said. When I saw that picture, I just couldn't process anything.
The image is in sharp contrast to the backdrop. Kashmir Valley is carpeted with tulip and saffron fields, with the Himalayas rising beyond snow-dusted coniferous trees.
A place of beauty, and war

Beneath the regions beauty lies a dark history. Kashmir is one of the most conflict-torn regions in the world. India and Pakistan have fought two wars over it since the partition of British India in 1947.
Pakistan said the early Wednesday strikes killed at least 26 people, with another 5 killed by artillery fire. India said 7 died from artillery fired by Pakistan in the Indian-controlled portion of Kashmir.
Pakistan claimed it shot down several Indian aircraft in retaliation, including three top-line fighter jets.
Its the latest eruption of violence in a region whose history is exceedingly complex. Prior to 1947, the Kashmir region was ruled by first Hindus, Buddhists, then Mughals, Afghans, Sikhs, the British and finally the Dogras.
Traditional scholarship on Kashmir's history as an integral part of India, argues that Kashmir is an India-Pakistan issue, said Khusdeep Kaur, assistant professor at the School of Arts and Sciences at Ahmedabad University.
However, the more recent field of Critical Kashmir Studies (CKS) contests this construction, arguing that Kashmir's political history should be understood outside of these statist frameworks, to understand the Kashmiri movement for self-determination, Kaur said.
The CKS body of work argues that this movement is not a post-1947 phenomenon, but rather has an elongated history, Kaur said.

When examined in this context, the case can be made that Kashmir is an occupied territory, she said. This scholarship then examines how the colony has been made integral to India through the processes of settler colonialism and militarization.
The systematic targeting and killing of Hindu Kashmiri Pandits erupted in 1989 and continued through the 90s.
Karishma Ganjoo, who today lives in 窪蹋勛圖厙, fled the region when she was only a year old.
One morning, there was a body hanging in the backyard of our neighbor's tree, and that was one of our neighbors, Ganjoo said.
Panicking, her parents piled onto a truck bound for Jammu, some three days away by road.
My mom, she took some milk for me in a flask. Utensils, clothes, some jewelry, she said. They drove night and day, hardly stopping. "What if someone got wind of a truck full of escaping Pandits?"
When the Pandits fled Kashmir, it was understood that their displacement was temporary there would be a few months of trouble and eventually they would return, said Ankur Datta, associate professor at the department of sociology at South Asian University in New Delhi.
But that never happened, and a profound loss of home still persists.
One would talk about the loss of home in terms of your actual house, property, the pragmatics of loss, but also a loss of sense of where one is grounded in the world, he said.
Datta compared the displacement of Kashmiris as being similar to what is happening now in Darfur and Ukraine. Compounding their displacement is a lack of recognition of their plight unlike with refugees who flee to other countries displacement creates a sense of invisibility.
There is a difficulty, of course, with being internally displaced, he said. I mean refugees, which is not to say that to be a refugee is something to be envied, theres at least that sense of being recognized legally and also within the concept of human imagination.
The tragedy of the Kashmiri Pandits was that their expulsion coincided with the persecution of Muslims in other parts of India, .
For these were also the years of the rise of the movement to demolish the Babri Masjid in Ayodhya, he wrote.
Mughal Muslims built Babri Mosque in the 16th century on a site sacred to Hindus, and what is believed to be on top of temple ruins. The mosque was demolished by Hindu mobs in December 1992, sparking nationwide riots that killed more than 2,000 people, mostly Muslims, according to the Associated Press.
Since these riots occurred over a far wider swathe of the country, the tragedy in Kashmir was obscured by the (numerically) greater tragedy taking place simultaneously in the rest of India, Guha wrote in the Hindustan Times, 2019.
Theres no going back

Many Pandit families live in encampments in Jammu to this day.
Nobody left the state with the intention that they're never going to be back ever again, Ganjoo said. There was always a hope that this was temporary. And now it has been 35 years, and there's no going back.
A computer engineer, she owns a beautiful house in 窪蹋勛圖厙. Its a state she loves for its apple orchards, sloping roofs and four seasons, just like Kashmir, she recalled her parents telling her.
This is home, she said, but she hasnt stopped longing for what she called her lost childhood in Kashmir. The house in which she was a baby, surrounded by an apple orchard and a backyard stream.
When she first visited Kashmir after her displacement, Ganjoo was 25, and said she was filled with an overwhelming sadness.
I thought I would be happy, she said. Anybody who's been to Kashmir can vouchsafe for its beauty. Why did I not get to grow up here like I was supposed to?
Like Ganjoo, Ankush Kaul fled Kashmir as a child.
The president of a medical technology company with clients across New England, Kaul lives on the New Hampshire and Massachusetts border.
One night, when he was an eight-year-old living in Kashmir, the mosques started blaring that all Hindus have to leave. It's not a hearsay. It's a very distinct memory, he said.
Kaul said his father, a prominent Kashmiri Pandit doctor, was put on a public list of people to be killed. He remembered being woken up by my mother and just leave, just leave in the middle of the night. Just reliving that, and my heart is racing, he said.
And now, Kaul said the April 22 Kashmir massacre has replayed the whole reel of his life.
The Kashmiri Sikhs

In 2000, the Kashmiri Sikh community was also targeted by violence. Dozens of villagers in Chittisinghpora were murdered . The Sikh community also faced ongoing threats during the 90s.
Although around 1,600 Sikh families are registered as displaced these numbers are to be read with caution the Chittisinghpora attack did not lead to a large-scale displacement, unlike the Kashmiri Pandits, said Kaur, the scholar at Ahmedabad University.
Thats because Kashmiri Sikhs are a community very much tied to the land, as opposed to the Pandits who were also landed, but were and are heavily represented in bureaucracy and government, Kaur said.
The Kashmiri Sikhs are in a sense an in-between community, since they are not religiously aligned with the Indian state or with Kashmiri Muslims, Kaur said. They say that their displacement will lead to them becoming dependent on the state, which they do not trust, and will take away their self reliance, which comes from having land.
Trauma and healing

Sunayana Kachroo, a songwriter and poet in Boston, showed a bright red cotton thread, almost maroon, tied around her wrist.
When she visited Kashmir last year with her son and brother her second ever visit there after she fled as a child they holidayed in the same sunlit valley where the April 22 terror attack occurred.
We took the ponies and went there. When I saw those visuals [of the massacre, I thought to myself], my [Hindu] name would have gotten me killed, thats a fact. I always wear this red thread here.
Many Hindus tie a red thread around their wrist on special occasions and continue to wear it for sometime. Kachroos family member was wearing one on his way to work during an attack in Kashmir in the 90s, she said.
The militants attacked the bus [he was on], she recalled. He was wearing the thread, and he was killed. So, that's what I thought about. All of that.
Kachroo immigrated to the U.S. 25 years ago to work as a software professional. She said up until 2008 she had recurring dreams of militants attacking or air raids.
It got to the point where I was scared to even sleep. People said, go for meditation. Do this, do that, [try] hypnosis. Nothing helped.
Those dreams stopped, she said, when she began seeing a therapist.
Now, Kachroo works full time in preserving the Kashmiri Pandit culture through song and word, and has performed in India, Europe and in Washington, D.C.
In her poem Mother Kashmir written in the Kashmiri language, Kachroo says Kashmir is getting ready to receive her children. The tulips are blooming, the bulbul birds are calling, fountains are singing, the shopkeepers are readying, the poem reads. The snow-capped Himalayas Lord Shiv, His body smeared with ashes. Mother Kashmir is celebrating in anticipation of her children arriving.
Kachroo was 9 years old when she left Kashmir with her family in 1985. They fled to Jammu, never to return.
Now, she pondered the notion of home.
I dont know. Maybe home is on a flight from here to India. Maybe it is in the lullaby of my grandmother, who's not there, she said. There are two tragedies that happened. People died, the community was forced to migrate. But our culture died with that too.
Kachroo said it is her lifes calling to help preserve a lullaby, a ritual and a pre-Vedic Kashmiri chant.
It is in my hands to protect a song. It is in my hands to protect a word. And I will do that. I will do that, Kachroo said softly. I look at it as something that is actually trying to save me.
The Associated Press contributed to this report.