‘We survived by sheer luck’: Kashmir family’s harrowing escape as mortar shell strikes just meters from home

The night sky lit up with fire as a mortar shell slammed into the Manzhar hamlet of north Kashmir’s Kupwara district, jolting 60-year-old Manzoor Ahmad Khan and his family out of sleep.

The blast, fired from across the Line of Control (LoC), struck just meters from their home, sending shockwaves through the hamlet and killing two cows in a nearby cowshed.

“We were fast asleep. Around 12:30 am, the whole house shook with a deafening blast,” Khan told Education Post. “It was as if the sky had split open. We survived by sheer luck.”

The explosion left parts of Khan’s home damaged — walls cracked, the roof splintered, and the family now displaced. Manzhar, a small hamlet in the Trehgam area of Kupwara district, lies roughly 65 kilometers from the LoC — making the impact of the shelling all the more alarming.

“This is the first time a shell has reached this far. It’s terrifying. We’re not waiting for the next one — we’re leaving,” Khan said, echoing a growing sentiment among residents across border towns like Tangdhar, Uri, Keran, and border districts of Jammu region — Poonch, Rajouri, Samba and Kishtawar.

Not far from Khan’s home, another mortar shell struck nearby trees and detonated near several houses, jolting families awake. The blast shattered windowpanes and sent a wave of panic through the neighborhood.

At least 15 Indian lives were tragically lost and 43 others injured as Pakistan unleashed unprovoked firing and intense shelling late May 6 night along the LoC and the International Border in Jammu and Kashmir’s Poonch and Tangdhar regions, according to officials.

Once known for their scenic calm, these border towns now tremble under relentless cross-border shelling that has intensified following India’s military action under Operation Sindoor. With mortar rounds and artillery fire raining down unpredictably from across the border, fear has taken root in every household.

“We’re living in a nightmare,” Iftikhar Ahmad, a resident of Tangdhar told Education Post. “Every explosion feels like it might be our last. Families are fleeing. The village is emptying out.”

The fallout is visible everywhere: blown-out rooftops, splintered doors, broken windows, and makeshift tents now dotting safer areas. Even the presence of government-built community bunkers offers little solace.

“We can’t always reach the bunkers in time,” said Ishfaq Ahmad, a local from Keran. “The shelling is too sudden, too intense. Our children scream through the night.”

Despite visits from senior officials including Kupwara Superintendent of Police Ghulam Jeelani Wani — who assured increased safety measures, the fear is far from over.

Authorities have announced plans for temporary shelters and aid, but many villagers remain too traumatized to return home.

In the shadow of geopolitical tensions, it is often the voiceless who bear the loudest scars. Far from decision-making tables and military strategies, civilians on the frontlines of conflict endure the brunt of violence without cause or warning.

Their homes become battlegrounds, their lives paused in fear. Amid the relentless echo of shellfire, a single plea rises above the chaos — a plea not for victory, but for survival.

‘Let us live’

“Stop the shelling. Let us live,” said Anzar Khan, a resident of border town Uri. “We are not soldiers. We are farmers, laborers, and children. We just want peace.”

As diplomatic tensions along the LoC simmer, the people of border towns find themselves in an unwinnable war — not as combatants, but as collateral. Their only weapons are hope, resilience, and a desperate plea that someone, somewhere, will listen and the cross-border shelling comes to an end.