Mohammad Younus, the so-called advisor to the caretaker government in Bangladesh and a controversial Nobel laureate, recently made headlines for his reckless remark: if India were to strike Pakistan, Dhaka would align with China to “occupy” India’s seven northeastern states. Today, Younus is conspicuously silent. So is Pakistan’s Chief of Army Staff, General Asif Masud, who has disappeared from public view since India launched precision strikes under “Operation Sindhoor.” These silences speak louder than their earlier threats.
India, reeling from a deadly terror attack in Pahalgam that left 26 tourists dead, responded with calculated military might. Unlike in the past, this was not a symbolic airstrike or a diplomatic démarche. This was a strategic assault on infrastructure sustaining terrorism across Pakistan-Occupied Kashmir and beyond. At least a dozen terror camps have reportedly been destroyed. Air bases and radar stations deep inside Pakistan have been rendered non-functional. The message was clear: India will no longer tolerate cross-border terrorism and will exercise its right to self-defense with precision, speed, and overwhelming force.
Pakistan’s response? Chaos, confusion, and a deafening silence from its military high command. Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif, already reeling from internal political instability and economic collapse, has been left to manage the fallout. Even within his coalition, anger is simmering over the army’s provocation that invited India’s wrath. The much-vaunted Pakistani military — historically a power center in the country — has proved itself ineffective, both in combat and diplomacy.
Pakistan’s military establishment had long projected a narrative of deterrence through nuclear posturing and Chinese backing. But this time, the nuclear bluff fell flat. The United Nations Security Council, including previously sympathetic voices, dismissed Islamabad’s attempts to escalate the issue. The world has grown weary of Pakistan’s duplicity — playing victim on the global stage while nurturing terror on its soil.
The myth of Chinese superiority has also taken a hit. Chinese-made drones, air defense systems, and radar arrays deployed by Pakistan failed to intercept Indian strikes. Military analysts are now questioning the credibility of Chinese weaponry, once seen as a cost-effective alternative to Western systems. If this conflict serves any global lesson, it is that Chinese defense exports may look good on paper but falter in real conflict.
China’s diplomatic posture has been equally duplicitous. While publicly condemning the Pahalgam attack, Beijing had the gall to urge New Delhi to “conduct an impartial investigation” before blaming its “all-weather friend,” Pakistan. This, despite credible evidence that the attackers identified their victims by religion before executing them — a chilling marker of Islamist terror. China, which has brutally suppressed its own Muslim Uyghur population through internment camps and surveillance states, has no moral authority to lecture democracies on investigative integrity.
China’s anxiety is not altruistic. It fears the strategic and economic consequences of this new Indian military doctrine. Its multi-billion-dollar Belt and Road Initiative — especially the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC) that passes through disputed territory in Pakistan Occupied Kashmir — is now vulnerable. Beijing had calculated that India would avoid escalation. It was wrong.
This new Indian assertiveness has roots in a decade of military modernization and geopolitical realignment. Under Prime Minister Narendra Modi, India has shed the baggage of Nehruvian passivity. Surgical strikes, Balakot, Doklam, Galwan, and now Operation Sindhoor — these are not isolated events. They are markers of a new doctrine: zero tolerance for terrorism, robust regional deterrence, and strategic unpredictability.
Which brings us back to Mohammad Younus. Once hailed as a messiah of microfinance and paraded by Western elites as the face of progressive Islam, Younus today finds himself aligned with anti-democratic forces. After U.S.-influenced elements allegedly destabilized Sheikh Hasina’s elected government, Bangladesh saw the emergence of a caretaker regime with disturbing Islamist overtones. Younus’s veiled threats to India — despite its historic role in liberating Bangladesh from West Pakistan’s genocidal campaign — betray not only poor statesmanship but also historical amnesia.
Younus is not alone. Across Western capitals and South Asian power centers, a cohort of self-styled peacemakers has long underestimated India’s strategic will. They mistake India’s democracy for weakness, its restraint for helplessness. Operation Sindhoor has shattered that illusion.
Now, the world watches. Will Pakistan recalibrate its strategic calculus? Will China rethink its regional aggression? And will figures like Mohammad Younus be held accountable for reckless provocations that risk regional stability?
India, under Modi, has changed the rules of engagement. Those who thought they could provoke and run are learning the hard way — there is no place to hide. Adding to this shift, with U.S. President Donald Trump notably gave India a ‘free hand’ to deal with regional threats during Modi’s state visit to Washington.
