Amid a fragile ceasefire, hundreds of families caught between borders face fear, uncertainty, and the threat of forced displacement
In the shadow of snow-capped Himalayan peaks, the picturesque valley of Pahalgam in Kashmir became the site of bloodshed and horror last month when terrorists struck a group of tourists, killing 26 people in one of the deadliest attacks in the region in recent years.
The incident sent shockwaves through the already fragile India-Pakistan relations, leading to a military confrontation within weeks of the attacks.
Thousands of Pakistani nationals residing in India, however, felt the consequences immediately, and continue to face uncertainty.
Within 48 hours of the attack, the Indian government announced sweeping measures, including revoking valid visas of Pakistanis and ordering them to leave by April 27 (the duration of medical visas was extended till April 29, 2025). All visas, except for diplomatic, official, and long-term visas, stand cancelled since April 27.
New Delhi also “strongly advised” Indian nationals to avoid travelling to Pakistan. “Those Indian nationals currently in Pakistan are also advised to return to India at the earliest,” the foreign ministry said.
The exact number of people that had to leave both countries due to the latest tensions is not clear – but is estimated to be in the hundreds.
Human cost of geopolitics
Beyond the diplomatic posturing and a four-day military standoff that sent shockwaves through the region, a humanitarian crisis unfolded in real time, as hundreds of Pakistani citizens took to the Attari border in Amritsar to leave India as soon as possible.
Naoamana Jarreen Farooqui’s story epitomizes this predicament. Three decades ago, she married Jameel Ahmad from Bahraich district in Uttar Pradesh, bringing with her dreams of love and a shared future.
Now 52, she is the mother of four daughters and two sons, and grandmother to several children. Despite living in India for 30 years, she has been unable to secure citizenship. “I have applied three times,” she told RT in a phone interview, her voice trembling. “Each time, the paperwork was returned after the one-month processing period.”
Now, she lives on a Long-Term Visa (LTV), which must be regularly renewed. The new citizenship processes introduced under the BJP government have allowed her to apply online, but crucial documents remain unprocessed through the Additional District Magistrate’s office.
“Where will I go now?” she asks. “My entire family is here. My children and grandchildren are Indian citizens. Pakistan is no longer home to me.”
Families at the Attari-Wagah border between India and Pakistan after Indian shut Attari-Wagah border on May 1, 2025 in Amritsar, India.
Similarly, Razia Khatoon, 70, faces a dire situation. Born in Bahraich to Indian parents, she was originally an Indian citizen. After marrying a Pakistani man from Lahore, she surrendered her Indian citizenship.
When that marriage ended in divorce, she returned to India in 1978 and married Fayyaz Ali Khan from Bahraich. However, her previous surrender of Indian citizenship means she remains a Pakistani national living on an LTV.
Now widowed and childless, Razia lives with her sister near a local dargah (shrine) in Bahraich. She survives by doing odd jobs at a madrasa and relies on charity for her medical expenses. When informed about the potential requirement to return to Pakistan, she could only respond with tears: “I have no one left in Pakistan. India is the only home I know.”
Under Indian rules, all long-term visa holders are allowed to visit their home country after obtaining a second permit, called the No Objection to Return to India (NORI) visa. But in the days following the attack, there have been reports of NORI visa holders also being stopped from crossing the border into India, as officials waited for clarity.
Legal complexities
The path to Indian citizenship for Pakistani nationals is fraught with bureaucratic hurdles. Under current regulations, Pakistani citizens must maintain continuous residence in India for at least seven years before applying. Additionally, a first-class Indian officer must certify their photographs and signatures.
Legal experts say the process became more complicated following the introduction of the Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA) in 2019, which specifically excludes Muslims from its expedited citizenship provisions for persecuted minorities from neighboring countries.
Advocate M Khalil (name changed on request), who has represented several Pakistani nationals in citizenship cases, told RT: “Even those who qualify under the existing framework face years of bureaucratic delays. The current geopolitical climate only worsens their situation.”
Uttar Pradesh Director General of Police Prashant Kumar, in an exclusive interview with RT, said, “All the residents under the given criterias from government of India have been asked to leave the state and they adhered to our orders. There are some people living in the state but their visa does not fall under the one who have been asked to leave.”
Border Security Force (BSF) personnel stand guard at the entrance of Attari-Wagah border crossing at Attari Integrated Check Post (ICP) after Indian shut Attari-Wagah border on May 1, 2025 in Amritsar, India.
For people like Naoamana and Razia, the geopolitical shifts translate into immediate personal crises. Their experiences mirror those of thousands trapped between two nuclear-armed nations burdened by decades of mutual suspicion and hostility. In Bahraich, the local authorities have offered a sliver of reassurance, noting that holders of LTVs have yet to receive formal deportation orders. Still, for many, uncertainty has become a daily affliction.
“I’ve spent more years in India than in Pakistan,” Naoamana says. “My children know no other home. If I am forced to leave, where will I go? Who will I be?”
Nearly a month after tensions flared, and with both countries now observing a fragile ceasefire, Pakistani nationals residing in India continue to grapple with a profound crisis of identity and belonging. They remain unintended casualties of a geopolitical conflict far beyond their control – caught in a struggle they neither started nor shaped.
Meanwhile, Kashmir once again finds itself at the center of a storm that threatens to wash away the lives and dreams of thousands whose only crime was to be born on the wrong side of a contentious border.
