Ceasefire or Celebration? The Real Victims Are Still Suffering

The ceasefire has happened.
The guns are silent — for now.
No rockets, no crossfire, no fresh graves along the border. Just a rare, uneasy peace that stretches across the Line of Control like a pause between storms.

For families living in border villages — on both sides — it’s the first deep breath they’ve taken in weeks, maybe months. The kind of breath that doesn’t come easily when you’re used to running to bunkers or praying your child doesn’t get hit while playing outside.

🏆 While Leaders Claim Victory, Who Will Claim the Pain?

Soon after the announcement, it began.

Political leaders, media outlets, and influencers — all rushing to claim credit.
“We pressured them.”
“We stood our ground.”
“We won.”

But no one is talking about the villagers whose homes are now just bricks and ash.
No one is posting photos of the children who spent nights trembling in corners, crying from sounds they shouldn’t have had to understand.
No one is doing press conferences for the mothers who buried their sons.

This is not a game.
This is not a scoreboard where we compare who made whom stop.
This is real, raw human suffering. And the sad part? It’s being buried under the noise of victory chants.

🔥 The Real Fire Is Still Burning

What’s even more heartbreaking is the extremism bubbling up online.

People tweeting:
“Why did the ceasefire happen?”
“We should have kept going!”
“They were about to break!”

Break what? Their armies? Or the backs of innocent villagers caught in the middle?
It’s easy to say “keep fighting” from your couch in a city where missiles don’t fall.
It’s easy to enjoy this drama like a cricket match — when it’s not your house on fire.

Please understand:
Just because the fire didn’t reach your home, doesn’t mean someone else isn’t burning.

🚫 We Need to Say It Loud: Extremism Is Not Patriotism

Wanting war is not bravery.
Cheering for destruction is not love for your country.
Ignoring human lives to protect political narratives is not strength — it’s blindness.

We must speak up — for peace, for people, for the ones who never had a say.
The real courage is in ending pain, not extending it.

Let the ceasefire be more than a pause. Let it be a reminder.
A reminder that behind every explosion was a family.
Behind every bullet was a child’s scream.
And behind every call for peace — there’s still hope.