Terror Tourism

Now with Hospital Slogans – Pakistan’s Plot Twist Nobody Asked For
Dr Noour Ali Zehgeer
The word SINDOOR will haunt Pakistan and their Army for years to come. In the world of geopolitics, some scripts never change—especially when it comes to Pakistan playing host to every terrorist it swears it’s fighting. This time, however, the drama had an unexpected twist: not in the rugged mountains or shadowy safe houses, but in a hospital, where the soundtrack wasn’t groans of pain but chants of “India teri maut aayi, Jaish aayi ho Jaish aayi.”
Yes, you read that right. At a hospital in Pakistan, during a visit by a senior military officer to meet the wounded from recent Indian strikes, the crowd spontaneously burst into slogans praising Jaish-e-Mohammed—a globally banned terror outfit. And while most governments would see this as a moment of deep national embarrassment, in Pakistan, it was just another day under the green crescent.
Operation Sindoor: No Warnings, No Apologies
India’s answer to the deadly Pahalgam terror attack that claimed 26 lives came not in the form of diplomatic notes, but precision-guided strikes under the codename Operation Sindoor. Within hours, the Indian Army executed clinical assaults on nine terror hubs across Pakistan and Pakistan-occupied Kashmir (PoK), including JeM’s headquarters in Bahawalpur and Lashkar-e-Taiba’s command centre in Muridke.
Operation Sindoor has once again conveyed to the world that no tolerance policy is to be followed by India for any country who sends terrorist to India and kills innocent people, innocent civilians are far from reality of hatred and animosity nurtured by the neighbour called Pakistan. Pakistan has been hatching and nurturing anti India elements since 1955, who are always ready to intrude and create an atmosphere of fear and one particular state (Jammu and Kashnir) has been suffering since 1980. Pakistan has been taught lesson by India many times, but I must say they are corrigible despite Indian Army giving them well deserved treatment.
Before the operation, the Indian Army had dropped a teaser—an ominous social media post: “Ready to strike, trained to win.” Unlike Bollywood thrillers, this warning was followed by real explosions and targeted demolitions. While Islamabad cried foul and waved the usual “civilian casualties” flag, New Delhi remained firm, stating the action was “proportionate, non-escalatory, and precisely targeted at terror infrastructure.”
Meanwhile, international observers found themselves watching an all-too-familiar performance—only this time, the viral videos of pro-terror sloganeering added a loud, unignorable soundtrack.
Casualties, Confusion, and Contradictions
In a press conference riddled with vague language, a Pakistani military spokesperson admitted to 24 impact sites, 8 deaths, 35 injuries, and 2 people unaccounted for. But despite these figures, Pakistan conveniently failed to provide any evidence—no coordinates, no footage, just a stockpile of accusations and a handful of denials. It’s a strategy as old as the problem itself: deny, deflect, and hope the international community has a short memory.
India, on the other hand, left little to imagination. Their message was simple—if terror crosses the border, retaliation will follow it home.
Border Tensions: Uri Pays the Price
If Pakistan’s official military response was muted, its informal one was anything but. In Jammu & Kashmir’s Uri sector, particularly in Salamabad, Pakistani forces reportedly unleashed a volley of mortar shells, injuring seven civilians and damaging multiple homes.
Panic-stricken villagers fled to underground shelters as the Line of Control (LoC) lit up in yet another round of cross-border chaos. The local health department declared a high alert, deployed emergency medical teams, and rushed the critically injured to district hospitals. Still, Islamabad refrained from calling this a “retaliation.” Perhaps it was just another random artillery tantrum in lieu of an official strategy.
The Hospital Meltdown: Slogans and Self-Sabotage
If India’s military strike was the punch, the hospital slogans were the punchline. During what was likely meant to be a morale-boosting visit by a Pakistani officer, the crowd instead erupted into open glorification of Jaish-e-Mohammed.
Video clips of the event, now circulating online, show a chilling celebration of terrorism—no masks, no whispers, just loud support in full public view. For a country constantly proclaiming its victimhood in the war on terror, this was a disastrous self-own. International analysts dubbed it “unfiltered proof” of the ideological rot that Pakistan pretends doesn’t exist.
It’s one thing to host terrorists quietly. It’s another to cheer them on at a hospital—with cameras rolling.
From Abbottabad to Bahawalpur: A Tired Pattern
Pakistan’s record of harbouring terrorists is not a state secret—it’s state-sponsored déjà vu. From Osama bin Laden’s comfy hideout in Abbottabad to Hafiz Saeed’s sermons in public parks, Islamabad has long struggled to align its actions with its declarations. Operation Sindoor simply brought the spotlight back to a truth that global watchdogs already know but are too polite to repeat: Pakistan’s anti-terror stance is more costume than commitment.
And now, with crowds literally singing praises of proscribed groups, even that costume is starting to tear at the seams.
FATF and the Future: A Financial Pinch Awaits?
The Financial Action Task Force (FATF) has kept Pakistan on its radar for years, demanding visible actions against terror financing and ideological radicalization. This latest display of public affection for Jaish-e-Mohammed won’t help Islamabad’s case.
Diplomats in key global capitals are likely reviewing these slogans with more concern than ever. Because it’s one thing to lack control—it’s another to publicly reveal you never wanted it in the first place.
Final Word: Stop Housing Snakes and Complaining About Bites
Operation Sindoor was more than military retaliation—it was a signal, loud and clear, that India won’t wait for permission slips to defend itself. It was also a reminder that while Pakistan may stage press conferences to feign innocence, the real confessions are being shouted in hospitals, not whispered in courts.
In the end, the world must ask: when a hospital becomes a concert hall for terrorist anthems, isn’t it time to question not just the perpetrators, but the platform?
Because if terror tourism comes with slogans and souvenirs, Pakistan may want to update its travel brochures—before someone else does it for them.
(The views are of the author and not that of Straight Talk Communications)