Brinkmanship in Vermilion: Modi’s Escalation of the India-Pakistan Conflict

Latest Developments

• April 22, 2025: A militant attack in Pahalgam (Indian-administered Kashmir) killed 26 civilians (including tourists), sparking national outrage in India. An offshoot of a Pakistan-based militant group claimed responsibility, and New Delhi immediately blamed Islamabad.
• Late April: Prime Minister Narendra Modi vowed retribution. India ramped up military readiness along the Pakistan border. Diplomatic ties frayed: India suspended a key water-sharing pact (the Indus Waters Treaty) and Pakistan threatened to pull out of the 1972 Simla peace agreement. Both countries recalled or expelled diplomats and citizens, bracing for a confrontation.
• May 7, 2025 (Pre-dawn): India launched multiple coordinated strikes on targets in Pakistan and Pakistan-administered Kashmir, dubbed “Operation Sindoor.” These were broad, strategic strikes on at least nine sites India identified as “terror camps.” It was India’s largest cross-border attack in nearly five decades, going well beyond the limited “surgical strikes” seen in 2019.
• May 7, 2025 (Morning): Pakistan retaliated. Air defense units were activated amid reports of dogfights. Islamabad claimed it shot down several Indian fighter jets and even captured Indian personnel. Along the Line of Control (LoC) in Kashmir, Pakistani artillery pounded Indian positions (in one instance violating a ceasefire within hours of India’s strikes), and the Indian Army answered with its own barrages.
• May 8–9, 2025: Tensions remain sky-high. Indian border cities in Punjab, Rajasthan, and Kashmir sounded air-raid sirens and enforced nighttime blackouts as a precaution against Pakistani air strikes. The Indian Army reported destroying multiple Pakistani drones over its territory. Both nations’ militaries are on hair-trigger alert, and further skirmishes or strikes are feared imminent as the crisis deepens.

Night of Strikes and Sirens

In the dead of night, the conflict that had been brewing for weeks erupted into bright plumes of fire on the horizon. Air-raid sirens began wailing across northern India—an eerie throwback to wars of decades past—sending residents of border towns dashing indoors and lights-out. In towns like Amritsar and Jammu, authorities cut power to whole districts, shrouding streets in darkness. Moments later, that darkness was broken by the distant thunder of explosions. Observers on the ground and open-source intelligence monitors like OSINTdefender reported multiple fireballs blossoming across the sky in Pakistan-administered Kashmir and even deep in Pakistan’s Punjab province. An intelligence chorus on social media documented the unfolding strikes in real time: grainy videos of missiles streaking overhead, the thump of distant impacts, and panicked yet exhilarated commentary in both Hindi and Urdu.

India’s operation—code-named “Sindoor,” after the vermilion red powder symbolizing sanctity and sacrifice in Hindu tradition—was immediately hailed by government supporters as a “precise and restrained” mission to exact justice. The official narrative out of New Delhi was that these were “measured, non-escalatory” attacks, carefully calibrated to punish the perpetrators of the Pahalgam massacre without provoking an all-out war. In practice, however, the scale and reach of the strikes told a different story. This was no token retaliation. Cruise missiles and long-range artillery struck nine separate targets from Pakistani Kashmir down to the plains of Punjab. Initial reports indicated training camps and arms depots of militant groups were hit, but the shockwaves didn’t discriminate – they ripped through militant hideouts and surrounding civilian areas alike.

By dawn on May 7, smoke hung over at least six Pakistani cities and towns. Pakistan’s military was quick to publicize the damage – and to answer with force. In the grey morning light, Pakistani artillery units opened up along several points of the LoC, sending Indian villagers scrambling for cover in bunkers. The Pakistani Air Force scrambled jets, and for a few tense hours both nations’ airspaces were alive with the high-octane drama of intercepts and chases. Islamabad’s officials claimed their pilots downed up to five Indian jets in the fray. Indian authorities flatly denied any losses, and no clear evidence of wreckage was presented, but the claims alone were enough to send nationalist fervor soaring on both sides of the border. In New Delhi, the Defence Ministry exulted that “justice was served” with Operation Sindoor’s success, even as it quietly shifted additional fighter squadrons and missile batteries toward the frontier for what might come next.

What came next, almost immediately, was the specter of further escalation. As news of the night’s events spread, Indian officials hinted that Operation Sindoor was only “Phase 1” of their response – a first act, not the climax. Open-source analysts picked up chatter that more strikes could follow if Pakistan didn’t unequivocally crack down on the militants India blames. On the Pakistani side, the army went into full posture, vowing that any new Indian attack would be met with a “quid pro quo, plus” response – indicating Pakistan would retaliate in kind and then some. In other words, each side signaled that the next round could be even fiercer. The stage is set for a classic South Asian standoff, but this time with an intensity and unpredictability that veteran observers say surpasses the crises of 2019 or even 1999. The nights in the subcontinent are no longer quiet; they are filled with the electric anticipation of what another sunset might bring – more sirens, more strikes, and the unnerving possibility that this conflict has only just begun.

Authoritarian Populism on the Warpath

To understand why India’s response has been so ferocious – and why it seems intent on extending the conflict rather than defusing it – one must scrutinize the man at the center of it all. Prime Minister Narendra Modi is no stranger to leveraging crisis for political gain; in fact, it’s a cornerstone of his governance style. Since coming to power, Modi has cultivated an image as India’s strongman savior, a leader who thrives on confrontation and emerges from it politically stronger. His brand of authoritarian populism wraps itself in the flag: it equates the leader’s hardline stance with the nation’s pride, and any compromise with weakness or disloyalty.

Under Modi’s regime, India has steadily drifted toward a majoritarian, nationalist narrative in which Pakistan occupies a unique and useful role: the eternal enemy, the “Other” that justifies tightening the screws at home. He has forged his political identity as the uncompromising guardian of India’s security and Hindu-majority identity. In practice, this has meant a series of bold, polarizing moves – from the unilateral revocation of Kashmir’s autonomy and the lockdown of that region in 2019, to new citizenship laws that pointedly exclude Muslim immigrants, to the subtle (and not-so-subtle) silencing of critical media and civil society voices. Dissent has increasingly been framed as unpatriotic. Independent journalists, opposition activists, even students have felt the cold wind of sedition laws and intimidation if they challenge the government’s line. This is the authoritarian side of Modi’s populism: centralized power, weakened institutions, and a cult of personality that tolerates little criticism.

Crucially, this style of governance feeds on conflict. An external crisis serves as a potent brew to shore up internal support. Modi’s India has learned that nothing rallies the public quite like a confrontation with Pakistan – and Modi’s supporters laud his aggressive posture as decisive leadership. In the aftermath of the Pahalgam attack, the drumbeats from Delhi grew loud. The Modi government scoffed at Pakistan’s offers to investigate or talk, rejecting anything that might dilute the atmosphere of righteous vengeance building at home. Instead of pausing for transparency or evidence (which risked dampening the public fury), Modi chose escalation. Launching Operation Sindoor wasn’t just a military decision; it was a calculated political act, cloaked in the fiery symbolism of its name and executed with theatrical timing.

The choice of “Sindoor” – the blood-red vermilion powder, sacred in India as a mark of marriage and devotion – as the operation’s code name was no accident. It’s raw symbolism, marrying the idea of a sacred duty with the spilling of blood. The subtext for the domestic audience was clear: this isn’t just warfare, it’s a holy duty to avenge Mother India. Modi’s propagandists deftly spin such symbols to amplify public fervor. Almost immediately, social media in India lit up with hashtags praising the strikes, patriotic memes, and calls to unite behind the flag. The government’s PR machinery and aligned media outlets glorify the strikes with breathless intensity – war as a prime-time spectacle. This stylized version of events casts Modi and his generals as protagonists in a grand, nation-defining drama. And in dramas like these, nuance is the first casualty. Anyone asking hard questions – about casualties, about endgames, about the wisdom of upping the nuclear ante – can be shouted down as unpatriotic at best, treasonous at worst. That is by design. Modi’s authoritarian populism tolerates no doubt, and a shooting conflict provides the perfect backdrop to drown doubt in a sea of chest-thumping.

Nationalism as a Domestic Strategy

Modi’s regime is effectively weaponizing nationalism, turning it into a domestic strategy for power consolidation. The pattern is familiar in history’s playbook of strongmen, but we are seeing it play out in real time in the world’s largest democracy. When the bombs fall and the bullets fly at the border, the ripple effects are felt in every Indian living room. Fear and fervor intermingle. In such times of external threat, people often rally around their leader, offering almost blind support in exchange for promises of security and revenge. Modi knows this psychology well and has cultivated it masterfully.

Inside India, the current escalation has triggered an intense “rally round the flag” effect. Even political opponents have felt the pressure to back the government’s actions publicly – after all, who wants to be seen as soft on the enemy when the country is under attack? Modi convened an all-party meeting and, unsurprisingly, got broad endorsement for “whatever action necessary” against Pakistan. In one stroke, the usual squabbling of India’s democracy fell silent, and a singular narrative prevailed. That narrative is one of national unity forged through conflict – and by positioning himself as the supreme commander of that conflict, Modi tightens his grip on the public’s imagination. He becomes not just the head of government, but the embodiment of India’s defiance and resolve.

For Modi’s Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), this is political gold. The surge of nationalism distracts from domestic troubles that, only weeks ago, dominated headlines. Economic worries, joblessness, inflation, rural discontent, even recent scandals – all are now pushed to the margins, drowned out by war cries and patriotic songs. The news cycle in India has shifted decisively: 24/7 coverage of the conflict, maps of airstrike targets, retired generals opining on TV panels, and montages of Modi with troops set to stirring music. It’s statecraft as stagecraft, and it keeps the population glued to a drama where Modi always stars as the hero. The more screen time the hero gets, the less anyone talks about policy missteps or unmet promises at home.

Nationalism in this context doesn’t just unite – it also divides and suppresses. It unites the majority behind Modi, but pointedly excludes those who don’t conform to the majoritarian ideal. Muslims in India, for instance, find themselves in a precarious position whenever Indo-Pak tensions flare. Communal rhetoric tends to spike alongside the nationalist fever, and hardliners in Modi’s base are not shy about conflating local Muslim populations with the “enemy nation.” It’s a dangerous atmosphere: criticism of the war effort or calls for peace can invite vicious backlash, even threats of violence. In effect, Modi’s brinkmanship provides cover for a crackdown on dissent. The government has already tightened internet controls in border regions and Kashmir, ostensibly for security, but also conveniently muzzling voices that might counter its narrative. Critics in the press who question the official line risk being branded as fifth columnists. This creates a chilling effect where even seasoned analysts and former generals couch their commentary carefully, toeing the nationalistic line. The public discourse narrows to an echo chamber of approval. And inside that chamber, Modi’s power swells unchecked.

It’s a cynical equation: military brinksmanship + hyper-nationalism = political strength. The risk, of course, is that this equation holds only so long as the brinksmanship doesn’t backfire catastrophically. But for now, Modi and his inner circle seem confident that they can control the blaze they’ve ignited – or at least that the political payoff is worth the risk. Each fresh escalation – each bold strike across the border, each defiant speech – bolsters the narrative that Modi is the indispensable leader of a nation under siege. It solidifies his base, cowes his detractors, and projects an image of India that is muscular and unyielding. To a populace that has been primed for years on slogans of making India a great power, this shows of force feel like vindication. Nationalist pride becomes a tool of governance, wielded to ensure that Modi’s grip on India’s polity remains firm.

On the Edge of a Precipice

While Modi’s government pursues this perilous gambit, the broader strategic picture grows darker. Each passing day of the standoff sees India and Pakistan inch closer to a point of no return. This isn’t a video-game war or a neatly scripted political thriller – it’s a live confrontation between two nuclear-armed states with decades of enmity and a hair-trigger between them. The escalation ladder in South Asia is treacherous: one step too high, one provocation too far, and the descent into full-scale war could become uncontrollable. Both Modi and Pakistan’s leadership claim they don’t want war, yet their actions are drawing the outline of one in stark relief against the horizon.

The world is watching with held breath and furrowed brows. Foreign diplomats and crisis analysts know how quickly an incident can spiral. A downed fighter jet here, a civilian massacre there – and suddenly domestic pressures could force leaders into making devastating choices. Modi’s strategy of controlled brinkmanship assumes that Pakistan will absorb a certain level of punishment without resorting to extreme measures. It’s a dangerous assumption. Pakistan’s military, under its own pressures and driven by its doctrine of refusing to back down, might retaliate in a way that Modi cannot ignore or contain. Each side’s nationalism feeds the other’s, like two mirrors facing each other, reflections bouncing back and forth until it’s impossible to see reality clearly. In such an environment, miscalculations are more likely. A Pakistani commander, stung by India’s bold incursion, might authorize a strike deeper into India than intended. An Indian battery, on high alert, might mistake a flock of birds for an incoming drone and unleash fire that kills civilians across the border. The fog of war is thick, and in the blur, a grave mistake could ignite a chain reaction.

Modi’s brinkmanship also tests the patience of the international community. Thus far, world powers have urged restraint but largely watched from the sidelines, offering little beyond words. There is a palpable hesitation to wade into the Indo-Pak quarrel – partly because India under Modi has projected an image of a rising power that doesn’t welcome outside interference, and partly because global leaders have domestic fires of their own to fight. Yet, if this confrontation worsens, they may have no choice but to intervene diplomatically. The prospect of a conflict in South Asia turning nuclear is every strategist’s nightmare scenario. Modi’s inner circle surely recognizes this, but they are playing chicken with catastrophe, betting that Pakistan will blink first or that international pressure will rein in Islamabad’s response while India carries on with impunity. It’s a high-stakes bet with millions of lives on the line.

Inside India, a subtle undercurrent of concern does exist, even if it’s drowned out by the roar of patriotic fervor. Seasoned diplomats, retired military officers, and intellectuals – those not completely sidelined by the current regime – quietly worry that the government is overplaying its hand. They recall lessons from history: 1914’s slide into World War, or closer to home, the Kargil conflict of 1999 which, even limited in scope, brought India and Pakistan dangerously close to the nuclear threshold. The Modi government’s confidence borders on hubris, and hubris is a known precursor to tragedy. How far can you push before something pushes back uncontrollably? That question looms large.

In Pakistan, too, Modi’s escalation has strengthened the hand of hardliners. Any voices in Islamabad advocating peace or restraint are easily drowned out by calls for honor and defense. This is the mirror effect of Modi’s nationalism: it empowers the most hawkish elements on the other side. The Pakistani military leadership, feeling vindicated in their long-held distrust of Modi’s India, will be less inclined than ever to pursue dialogue. Civilians on both sides ultimately pay the price – whether in the immediate terror of shelling and strikes or in the long-term diversion of national priorities towards militarization. South Asia was already a tinderbox of unresolved disputes and socio-economic stresses; now Modi’s actions have tossed a lit match into the mix, and the region stands on the edge of a precipice.

Conclusion: The Cost of Modi’s Gamble

Narendra Modi has proven adept at riding the tiger of nationalist fervor – but as the old proverb warns, once you’re on a tiger, dismounting is the hardest part. By extending and escalating this conflict with Pakistan, Modi has achieved a short-term spectacle of dominance and unity. He has, in a sense, cast a spell over India, one where the public sees him as the strong leader protecting the nation’s honor with fire and fury. For now, his authoritarian populist playbook seems to be working: the opposition is subdued, the populace electrified, and his grip on power fortified by the adrenaline of conflict.

But the long term is unwritten, and the costs of this gamble are mounting in ways both obvious and subtle. There is the tangible cost – in lives lost, in towns wrecked, in economies disrupted on both sides of the border. There is the intangible yet profound cost – the corrosion of democratic values, the stifling of debate, the seeds of hatred being sown deeper into the soil of two nations. Modi’s brinksmanship may well succeed in the immediate goal of consolidating his internal power; it has certainly made him the central figure of India’s current story, looming larger than ever. However, he is playing a dangerous game with very high stakes. Each move to ratchet up the pressure brings the region closer to an abyss that, once crossed, no amount of political calculus can undo.

In the stylized intensity of this unfolding saga – with its midnight airstrikes and made-for-TV bravado – there lies a grim reality: war is not a photo-op, and nationalism is a volatile fuel. Modi’s India is racing forward, extending the conflict with a confidence bordering on arrogance. The narrative at home is triumphant, but the view from 30,000 feet is fraught with peril. An authoritarian populist regime might believe it can direct the tides of passion and war to secure its rule, yet those tides have a way of shifting unpredictably. If Modi continues to ride this tiger of conflict, he may find that it leads him – and all of South Asia – to places far more dangerous than he ever intended. In this live intelligence drama, the final act has yet to play out. The world can only watch, and hope that cooler heads somehow prevail before the crimson streaks in the sky turn into a conflagration that consumes far more than a political career.