@Rishu3107
In all the adversities lies the opportunity..
@Zambia974
Act!
@User1100-n6s
Missing Bipin Rawat sir..😢
@Noskcajynhoj
In 1971, Narendra was not yet a politician, not yet hardened by ideology or ambition. Just a wandering soul passing through Rajouri, a hilly town in Jammu, cloaked in saffron and silence, seeking meaning beyond borders. Then he saw her—Zoya. A Pakistani girl visiting family across the Line of Control under a temporary peace accord. Eyes like midnight monsoon and a voice that turned Urdu poetry into seduction. They met in a quiet corner of an old Rajouri bookstore, over Faiz and Ghalib. She smiled first. He stumbled over his words—more comfortable with silence than beauty. But she coaxed him out with riddles and ghazals, tea shared behind shuttered doors, and questions no border could answer. Their talks stretched into long walks by moonlight, fingers brushing beneath the starlit sky, hearts racing with every forbidden glance. They knew it couldn’t last. Every touch was defiance. Every meeting, a secret rebellion. But in that mountain air, youth made them bold. When she whispered his name—her breath warm against his neck—he stopped caring about politics, or nations, or gods. Then the ceasefire broke. Shelling lit up the hills. Zoya’s family whisked her away across the LOC. Modi was forced to flee with the rest of the pilgrims. Before he left, he tucked a letter inside her poetry book, hidden between verses: “One day, when this fire cools, I will return. Until then, I’ll become a man the world must reckon with.” Years passed. He rose. She disappeared. Now Prime Minister, Modi sat alone in his Delhi office in 2025 when intelligence intercepted an old poem read on Pakistani radio. The voice was unmistakable—low, soft, laced with longing. Zoya. She was alive. But there was danger. Her family, now tied to a faction fanning unrest in Kashmir, had become a pawn in the region’s fragile chessboard. A terrorist cell was plotting. And she—unwilling or unable—was caught in its web. Advisors urged immediate strikes. Modi hesitated. He saw a woman’s face through the smoke, remembered the way she smelled of jasmine and rain. That night, he stood by his window, fingers gripping the edge of her long-lost photo, and wrote one last message: “You were always the quiet between the blasts. The calm I never deserved. If war finds you again, may it remember that my fire was never meant for you.”
@AbhinandanChaiwala
آج تک کوئی ماں کا لعل پیدا نہیں ہوا جو پاکستان کا ایک بال بھی گیلا کر سکے
@regularguy2391
To me looks like that Modi and Asim Munir both are helping each other politically, with this terrorist attack Modi got a chance to enhance his hatred against local Muslims and Pakistan, after coming from saudi arab instead of visiting kashmir he goes to Bihar for his election campaign, what a beautiful move by a leader, at the same time whole Pakistan hated Asim Munir and army in general now whole Pakistan stands with army, so Asim Munir is getting a political boost.
@satyanshtrivedi6703
Pakistan ko dedo choco
@BrianPinto-mk2tt
This meeting are all flop shows Unpard Modi is chairing what will be the outcome have snacks tea admire the Raja n go Jai ho India
@yuzihao8777
Are they going to do something or just posing
@AbhinandanChaiwala
Come and take your BSF jawan captived by Pak Army🇵🇰🇵🇰
@aliakram8262
Imphati pari hai 🤣🤣🤣
@kego6099