APRIL 22, 2025 began like any other day at the Western Command: briefings on infrastructure projects, routine updates, the hum of staff work. Then the television flashed images that would change everything — a terror strike in Pahalgam, innocent civilians singled out and killed on the basis of their faith. The brazenness of the attack shocked the nation and demanded a response; swift, precise and unmistakable.
We had reasons to be alert. Recent flare-ups and public unrest across the border suggested a volatile mix of political turmoil and military posturing. Pakistan’s internal dynamics — a powerful military leadership, religious rhetoric woven into public addresses and visible political fractures — all pointed to a dangerous willingness to use violence as leverage.
Pakistan Army Chief, himself a Hafiz, has fused the country’s two most potent forces — militarism and religion. So, less than a week before the Pahalgam terror attack, when he invoked the two-nation theory and declared Kashmir the “jugular vein", it struck me not as grandiloquence but as a calculated signal.
In the Western Command, we had anticipated conduct of military operations post cross-border provocations and deliberated our response options in a wargame in 2024. That preparation paid off: formations already understood their role and could move quickly when the alertness levels were enhanced. The secrecy of plans was crucial for the success of operations, so the targeting options were kept tightly compartmentalised; even formation commanders were not aware of the final list of targets. Deception and redundancy were built into the plan to preserve surprise.
The media grew impatient as days passed without visible action. I remember the Editor-in-Chief of The Tribune visiting my office at the end of April 2025, pressing for answers. I could only confirm intent, not timing or place. With a vast background in dealing with Pakistan, she asked bluntly, “Are you going to strike Muridke?" I kept my face blank and said, “All options are on the table."
On May 7, 2025, at 0105 hours, we commenced precision strikes and by 0130, the identified terrorist bases were fully destroyed. The message was simple: justice delivered. In a just operation, we had deliberately targeted only terrorist infrastructure rather than civilian or military bases, which also constrained escalation options for the Pakistan military.
Predictably, the adversary retaliated. Pakistan launched drones and missiles against military installations; almost all those attacks were blunted by our air defence and counter-drone systems. We responded in kind, degrading a number of Pakistan’s posts and military bases. In the middle of the fire assault, a Pakistani post even raised a white flag.
Each day, around noon, Army commanders joined the Army Chief in a secure video-conference to review progress of operations and decide the future course of action. Implications of own actions and their second- or third-order effects were also deliberated upon. The latitude of military leadership to shape operations was quite evident.
The conflict exposed new realities. Drones were launched deep into our territory, even over cities once thought safe by virtue of distance from the border. On May 8, we had a blackout in Chandigarh consequent to drone sightings. But soon we realised that such blackout drills have limited value against modern-day precision standoff threats.
We adapted the drills and accelerated plans to harden and, where necessary, move critical operation centres underground. When Pakistan publicly proclaimed that it might strike the Golden Temple, we treated it as both a signal of intent and an effort to pre-empt blame and immediately strengthened air defence and counter drone measures in Amritsar.
Public sentiment was overwhelmingly supportive. Small acts of solidarity — villagers bringing water to soldiers, a 10-year-old boy fetching lassi for troops — became national symbols of unity. The media, for the most part, backed our actions; some channels grew hyperbolic, but the intent was patriotic.
There were surreal moments. On May 9 morning, my wife woke me up with a channel breaking news that Indian troops had reached Lahore. Half asleep, I wondered aloud: did we order the move forward of offensive formations or the GOC of my Strike Corps had taken the initiative akin to Op Parakram days!
On May 10, it was already daybreak when we broke up from the operations centre, so I decided to head to the golf course to declutter my mind. The DGMO was quite surprised when I took his call on a secure mobile from the golf course and so were a couple of veterans playing golf. They assumed the operation was winding down — and, lo and behold, Pakistan asked for a ceasefire a few hours later!
A year on, I look back on Operation Sindoor with pride and satisfaction. The Indian armed forces executed a complex operation under intense scrutiny and pressure. We delivered punitive effects, dominated the escalatory ladder and signalled capability and intent.
But the question remains: have we achieved lasting deterrence? The Pakistan Army appears politically stronger today and more prominent on the world stage. Emboldened and under an ambitious Field Marshal, it could well revive its decades-old strategy of “bleeding India through a thousand cuts."
If that happens, our response must be swifter, more forceful and integrated across domains. Deterrence must evolve into compellence — a posture that not only discourages aggression but also changes the adversary’s cost-benefit calculus. That will require strategic imagination: better intelligence fusion, deeper resilience at home and a willingness to combine military action with diplomatic and economic levers.
Operation Sindoor was a major military success, the challenge in the next round will be to translate the tactical victory into a durable strategic advantage.
The writer was GOC-in-C, Western Command, during Op Sindoor and retired in 2026.
