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Kaustubh Ganbote with his wife before the attack. (Source: Express Photo)
For years, Kashmir had lived in their imagination as ‘Heaven on Earth’ — a place the family had long hoped to visit together. But for the Ganbotes, that dream turned into something they now struggle to even speak about.
“Kashmir is considered heaven on Earth, but it has turned into hell for us,” says 33-year-old Kunal Ganbote, pausing between sentences that still seem difficult to complete even a year later.
On April 22 last year, his father, Kaustubh Ganbote, was among the 26 people killed in the Pahalgam terror attack. He had travelled to Jammu & Kashmir with his wife and members of the Jadgale family, close family friends, on their first trip to the region.
“There was a lot of excitement. It was their first visit,” Kunal recalls. “No one could have imagined what would happen.” What followed, he says, still feels unreal. “The incident was so sudden and shocking that even today, we are not able to digest that my father is no more. We don’t know how long it will take to truly come to terms with it,” he says.
In the immediate aftermath, support came from all sides: relatives, friends, government officials and well-wishers. “Everyone stood by us during that difficult time,” he says. Yet, the sense of loss has remained constant, quietly shaping each day since.
Kunal, who was then working in Pune as a research consultant in the food and beverages industry, found his life taking an abrupt turn. “That day drastically changed my life,” he says.
His father had spent 35 years building a ‘farsan namkeen’ (savoury snacks) business — starting from a modest home-based setup and growing it into a network of 17 franchise outlets across Pune. It was work that both his parents managed together, with plans to expand further. “He wanted to build it into a national brand like Haldiram’s or Balaji,” Kunal says.
After his father’s death, Kunal left his job to take over the business. “Now, I am working to take forward his dream,” he says, describing it less as a choice and more as a responsibility that came with the loss.
Even as life moves forward, questions about the circumstances of the attack remain. According to Kunal, his father and other members accompanying them were not at the initial point of firing. “They were far away when the firing started. The attackers moved freely over a long distance and eventually reached them,” he says. “This was a clear security lapse – there were no CCTV cameras, no checkpoints.”
He also points to what he describes as deliberate targeting. “The targeting of individuals was very disturbing and showed a clear intent to create unrest in the Valley.”
A year on, he believes that while operations such as Operation Sindoor and Operation Mahadev have been projected as responses to the attack and a tribute to the Pahalgam victims, more needs to be done. “Such operations are seen as a tribute to the innocent lives lost during the Pahalgam attack. But incidents like the blast near Delhi’s Red Fort show that terror networks are still deeply rooted,” he says. “Security agencies need to completely dismantle these networks and their linkages.”
For Kunal, the demand is as much about accountability as it is about prevention. “The action by security agencies should be so strict that even those planning such attacks think twice,” he says.
The family has received the financial assistance promised by the government. However, when it came to the offer of a government job as compensation, they chose differently. “As I had to take care of the business, we requested that the job be given to someone more in need,” he says.
In the end, what remains is a loss that cannot be replaced, only carried. “We have already lost our dear one,” Kunal says. “But no one in the future should have to go through this. There has to be stronger surveillance so that such incidents do not happen again.”