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On 22 April, the day of the brutal attack in the Baisaran meadow, I drove 11 tourists for a day trip from Srinagar to Pahalgam in my taxi.
For the past three years, I have been working as a taxi driver for tourists who want to explore the scenic beauty and the warm hospitality of my homeland — Kashmir. The incident, targeted against tourists, has left me deeply disturbed and shocked.
On 22 April, the plan of the 11 tourists, who I was accompanying, was to visit Aru and Betab valleys, both located in Pahalgam, and adjacent to Baisaran.
We arrived at around 1 pm, and I dropped them off near the parking area. Since the valleys are at a higher altitude, visitors usually either trek or take a horse ride up to the meadow.
As my tourists left to explore the beautiful landscapes of the valleys, I told them to call me once they were done, and I waited for them in the parking area.
I sat in my car for about an hour before stepping out to get lunch. Not long after, I saw a woman crying uncontrollably — I could tell she was a tourist.
Worried, I asked the people around her what had happened. They told me that someone had opened fire in Baisaran, and that people were fleeing in panic.
Soon after, I saw police and security forces rushing towards Baisaran even as more tourists and locals came running down the hill in panic, desperate to escape the sound of gunfire.
The atmosphere was charged with fear — people were screaming, stumbling, running in every direction, and trying to flee. Amid the chaos, I, along with three or four other locals, made the difficult decision to trek up the valley, against the tide of terrified crowds.
Around me, people were crying, pleading, and collapsing in exhaustion and fear. The whole valley — a place known for its serenity — had turned into a scene of terror.
Then, through the crowd, I saw my tourists returning from Aru Valley. Relief washed over me. I quickly gathered them, got them into the car, and without wasting a second, we drove straight back to Srinagar.
This attack isn't just an act of terror — it has consequences that will ripple far beyond that day. Families who lost their loved ones will live with that pain forever. And for us — the ones who depend on tourism to survive — it’s yet another blow.
Just when we had started to recover from the impact of COVID-19 pandemic, when tourism was finally reviving in Kashmir, this horrific incident has brought everything crashing down again.
Once more, we are staring at uncertainty, cancellations, and the slow, painful loss of our livelihoods.
Today, everything feels frozen — like the whole Kashmir Valley itself is holding its breath. The once-crowded tourist spots now lie deserted, emptied overnight, as frightened visitors cancel their plans and rush back home.
All 11 of my tourists have left, each returning to their own homes, their memories of Kashmir now scarred by fear.
(As told to Arsalan Bukhari)
(All 'My Report' branded stories are submitted by citizen journalists to The Quint. Though The Quint inquires into the claims/allegations from all parties before publishing, the report and the views expressed above are the citizen journalist's own. The Quint neither endorses nor is responsible for the same.)
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