Geopolitical decisions often echo loudly in the halls of power—but their true resonance is felt in the everyday lives of ordinary people. With the suspension of the Indus Waters Treaty (IWT) and the abrupt closure of the Attari-Wagah border, thousands of individuals on both sides of the India-Pakistan divide now face personal, economic, and emotional hardship.
The Pahalgam terror attack, which claimed 26 innocent lives, has triggered a wave of national mourning and outrage in India. In response, the government has taken unprecedented steps to isolate Pakistan diplomatically and economically. However, behind the headlines and political statements are the stories of farmers, traders, students, divided families, and religious pilgrims—those caught in the crossfire of national decisions.
Farmers on the Edge
Perhaps the most direct and immediate impact of the treaty’s suspension is being felt by farmers, particularly in Pakistan’s Punjab province. Pakistan’s agricultural economy is heavily dependent on the Indus River and its tributaries—80% of its irrigated land is nourished by this system.
With India signaling its intention to maximize the use of the eastern rivers and potentially review hydroelectric projects on western rivers, Pakistani farmers fear a future where water availability becomes unpredictable or manipulated.
Even though the treaty hasn’t been officially abrogated, the psychological impact is palpable. “We live and die by the waters of the Chenab and Jhelum,” said Ghulam Hussain, a farmer in Sialkot. “Even the threat of reduced flows creates panic. How do we plant crops when the future is so uncertain?”
On the Indian side, farmers in Jammu and Kashmir and Punjab are also watching closely. While some express satisfaction with the tough stance against Pakistan, others worry about potential retaliation that could affect border stability and disrupt farming cycles due to cross-border shelling.
Border Communities in Limbo
For residents of Attari (India) and Wagah (Pakistan)—two towns synonymous with the only road crossing between the two nations—the border’s sudden closure has created a surreal vacuum.
Many small businesses in Attari that rely on the daily hustle of cross-border trade and tourism have been forced to shut shop. Hotels, food stalls, and money changers are facing steep losses. Similarly, families who were scheduled to reunite across the border for weddings, funerals, or religious events have been left stranded.
In Lahore, Shazia Mehmood was preparing to travel to Amritsar for her cousin’s wedding. “My visa was approved. We were all packed,” she said. “And now, with the border closed, everything’s off. The pain is personal and deep.”
Cultural & Religious Exchange Interrupted
The closure has also halted religious pilgrimages that form a critical channel of cultural diplomacy. Every year, thousands of Sikh pilgrims from India visit Pakistan to pay homage at holy sites such as Nankana Sahib and Kartarpur Sahib.
While the Kartarpur Corridor remains technically open, uncertainty surrounding visa processes and heightened diplomatic tensions have deterred many pilgrims. On the other side, Sufi devotees from Pakistan who travel to Ajmer Sharif and other Dargahs in India now find their plans indefinitely suspended.
These spiritual journeys have historically served as a soft bridge between the two populations. Their suspension not only erodes trust but also deepens the emotional chasm that political maneuvering often widens.
Students and Families in Distress
Students, scholars, and researchers enrolled in academic programs across the border have also been affected. With the revocation of visa exemptions and escalating rhetoric, many students have been advised to return home, cutting short their academic pursuits and leaving behind disrupted dreams.
Family reunions, particularly for elderly relatives, are perhaps the most tragic casualties of this diplomatic standoff. Separated families, many of whom are survivors or descendants of the Partition, often rely on the limited visas and border windows to stay in touch.
Fazal Ahmed, an 82-year-old Pakistani national who was due to visit his sister in Ludhiana, India, shared his heartbreak: “We lived together for 30 years before Partition. Now, even a final goodbye is denied to us.”
Psychological and Social Impact
Apart from the tangible disruptions, the psychological toll of heightened hostility is deeply concerning. Nationalist narratives on both sides have flared, with social media often amplifying hatred, misinformation, and calls for war.
In India, there has been an increase in targeted rhetoric against citizens who promote peace or question militaristic responses. In Pakistan, narratives portraying India as the aggressor are fueling a sense of collective victimhood, especially among youth.
The social fabric, especially among communities that advocate for peace, pluralism, and people-to-people contact, is under strain. Cultural events, literary exchanges, and film festivals that once fostered dialogue are being canceled or indefinitely postponed.
A Call for Empathy and Restraint
As both governments navigate the path ahead—driven by domestic pressures, security imperatives, and strategic calculations—it is crucial to center the lived experiences of ordinary people. History shows that diplomacy succeeds not just in foreign ministries but also in classrooms, gurudwaras, wheat fields, and border homes.
Experts argue that track-two diplomacy, citizen engagement, and humanitarian exceptions should not be sacrificed in times of national crisis. Former Indian diplomat K.C. Singh recently stated, “We must be tough on terror but not blind to human ties. We can isolate regimes without isolating people.”
Conclusion
The Pahalgam attack was a brutal reminder of the cost of unchecked extremism. India’s response, while strategically calculated, must be weighed against the long-term humanitarian fallout. As political leaders speak of security and sovereignty, it is vital to also hear the quieter, more urgent voices: those of farmers fearing drought, children missing school, pilgrims denied prayer, and families waiting across barbed borders.
Peace may not be imminent, but empathy must not be abandoned.
