From Biryani Diplomacy to Battlefield Reality: Modi’s Moment in the Well

 

From Biryani Diplomacy to Battlefield Reality: Modi’s Moment in the Well

Who Pushed Me into the Well

 

Once upon a time, in a village not unlike any noisy WhatsApp group, a child fell into a well. Everyone gathered around the edge—crying, shouting, filming vertical videos—but nobody jumped in. Suddenly, there’s a splash. A man is down there, struggling, but managing to rescue the child. He gets pulled up, drenched and disoriented, as the crowd erupts into applause and chants of his bravery.

Then he shouts, “Wait... who the hell pushed me into the well?”

Fast forward to 2025, and one can’t help but wonder if Narendra Modi might soon be asking the same question.

Because like it or not, the man has now been pushed into a war he may not have signed up for—not a traditional war with borders and treaties, but the unending, unwinnable quagmire known as "The Global War on Terror"™. Spoiler: Nobody’s won it. Plenty have tried.

So, who pushed Modi?

Was it the opposition, which for once seems to be showing maturity? Rahul Gandhi, long dismissed as "Pappu" by WhatsApp forwards and morning anchors, stood up post-attack and declared full support to the government in going after those responsible for the Phlegm—sorry, Pahalgam—terror attack. (Let’s be honest, even spellcheck wasn’t ready for this tragedy.)

Or maybe it was the media, especially the non-corporate kind, which decided to stop acting as a cheer squad and actually asked questions:

– How did terrorists operate 140 kilometers from the border?

– Why was there zero meaningful security for civilians in a region the government claims to control completely?

– Didn’t Article 370’s removal guarantee peace? Did someone forget to install the patch update?

Or perhaps the people of India pushed him—the grieving families who dared to blame the government for its failure to secure a so-called normalized Kashmir. The same government that insists Kashmir is now just like any other Indian state… except, well, for the part where tourists get killed and terrorists roam freely.

You’d think after 2019, when the Pulwama attack exposed massive security lapses, lessons would’ve been learned. Instead, we’re back in the same script, new chapter.

But this time, the Prime Minister has to move—not because he’s eager to, but because the pressure has built from every side. And while he may look like the man jumping into action, many suspect he was pushed. Hard.

Now, let’s be clear: once you’re in the well, you’d better rescue the child. And this time, the “child” is not just national pride—it’s India’s entire security doctrine. A few surgical strikes won’t cut it. The problem has metastasized. You can’t treat an ideological cancer with PR bandages.

India cannot afford to become Israel 2.0, where terrorism becomes part of daily life and national anxiety is a permanent condition. This operation—whatever form it takes—has to be more than a political detour. It has to finish what’s been conveniently left unfinished for decades.

And that includes Gilgit, where China has quietly built a road through disputed Indian territory—a road it uses to send weapons and logistical support to Pakistan. If India is serious about eliminating long-term threats, this road has to go. It's a strategic cancer connecting Pakistan’s terror enterprise with China’s ambition. Removing it won’t just be a blow to Pakistan—it’ll be a polite slap across Beijing’s supply chain.

Now, will this government do it?

That’s the question. A real solution requires more than missiles—it needs diplomatic muscle, global maneuvering, and a political class willing to answer tough questions at home. So far, silence has been the government’s favorite response strategy. But wars have a nasty way of demanding clarity.

Yes, people love blaming Nehru for everything from Kashmir to monsoon delays, but historians know the British Empire set this disaster in motion and left the region with a ticking time bomb disguised as Partition. Jinnah and his cohort failed to see it, and now here we are—with a mess only someone bold (or desperate) enough would even attempt to clean up.

And that brings us back to Modi. For all the criticism, he’s now the face of this operation—whether he likes it or not. He’s the one standing at the edge of the well, already ankle-deep in geopolitical mud. He may well turn back later and ask, “Who pushed me into this war?”

But here’s what could change everything: Modi has been branded—rightly or wrongly—as the man who doesn’t bow to outside pressure. He’s built an image of being uncompromising, unmoved by global lectures or soft diplomacy. And for once, that may work in India’s favor.

If he follows through—militarily, diplomatically, and strategically—this moment could become his defining legacy. Not just a reaction, but a resolution. Not just a headline, but closure.

He’s in the well. Now, it’s time to drain it.

Jai Hind.