What a War Looks Like Through the Eyes of a Child

In the valleys of Kashmir, where laughter once danced on the wind and children played under an open sky, the thunder of fighter jets has replaced birdsong. The escalating conflict between India and Pakistan in 2025 has turned schools into shelters and dreams into dust. Children now navigate a reality shaped not by textbooks and toys, but by gunfire and grief.

On May 6, 2025, India launched “Operation Sindoor,” targeting alleged terrorist hideouts in Pakistan-administered Kashmir, following a deadly attack in Pahalgam that claimed 26 civilian lives.
The strikes hit locations in Bahawalpur and Muridke, resulting in civilian casualties, including children. Pakistan retaliated with cross-border shelling and air raids, leading to further civilian deaths and displacements.

In towns like Uri and Poonch, what once were classrooms are now ruins. Playgrounds lie still, not because the children don’t want to play, but because stepping outside could mean stepping into danger. Schools have been shut down indefinitely, and families live under the constant fear of airstrikes. In these moments, innocence is not lost — it is stolen. Childhood becomes a casualty of war.

Fear is when my mother tells me, "Stay close, in case we need to run."Fear is when my little sister asks, "Is the sky broken?" because the air smells like smoke and fire. Fear is when I hear a noise at night and wonder if it’s an airstrike or just the wind.

While the world counts physical damage, a silent crisis brews within young minds. The trauma of constant bombing, the loss of family, and the fear of the unknown are leaving children with deep psychological scars.
Mental health experts in Kashmir are observing a sharp rise in PTSD, anxiety, and depression among minors. In Balkote, a seven-year-old girl suffered an anxiety attack after her home was hit by a mortar.

Since then, she refuses to go outside or interact with other children. According to child psychiatrist Dr. Zaid Ahmad Wani, such trauma can permanently disrupt a child’s development and sense of safety.

Mainstream media, focused on strategy and politics, too often forgets the faces behind the facts. But the true cost of war isn’t measured in missile strikes — it’s measured in broken families and stolen childhoods. There is an urgent need for media to amplify these stories, to give voice to the voiceless, and remind the world of what’s truly at stake.

The United Nations says this must stop. Leaders on TV talk about peace, but their words don’t stop the war. Humanitarian groups try to help, but shelters don’t fix broken childhoods. Journalists come to ask questions. But after they leave, we still live in a war zone.

The United Nations has called for restraint, urging both nations to prioritize the protection of civilians, especially children. Humanitarian agencies are mobilizing shelters, mental health support, and mobile education facilities in conflict zones.
Meanwhile, a haunting study from 2019 has resurfaced — predicting a nuclear conflict between the two countries in 2025 triggered by terrorist escalation. Though still a worst-case scenario, the reality on the ground is veering dangerously close to that cliff.

The question is no longer about who holds the higher ground militarily — it's about who will choose the higher ground morally. Every child deserves books, not bunkers. Every school should be a sanctuary, not a target. The world must come together, not only to stop the current violence but to ensure that peace lasts longer than war ever did.

This war isn’t about who wins or loses. It’s about who suffers the most. We’ve seen enough soldiers, explosions, and destruction. It’s time the world sees what war looks like through a child’s eyes. Because no child should have to say, "I don’t play outside anymore."

If we fail to protect the children of today, we lose the architects of tomorrow.

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