There is something almost poetic about a vanquished general dusting off his shalwar, adjusting his sherwani, and declaring victory – while the ashes of defeat still float gently behind him. Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif’s latest call for peace with India, following Operation Sindoor, belongs squarely in that tragi-comic genre where denial wears the uniform of defiance and failure is dressed up as diplomacy.
Emerging from the diplomatic shadows of Tehran – where he was met with the ceremonial flourish reserved for visiting firemen – Sharif struck a statesmanlike pose, uttering noble clichés about regional stability and the virtues of peace. This performance came barely days after Pakistan’s military targets were pounded with clinical precision by Indian forces in retaliation for the Pahalgam terror attack.
War drums fade
In his new avatar as South Asia’s peace ambassador, Sharif exuded the serene confidence of a man whose house had not just been burglarised but flattened – and yet insists he gave the burglars a tough time. ‘We shall defend our territory… like we did a few days ago,’ he declared with Churchillian solemnity, apparently referring to the part where Pakistan’s missiles either missed, fizzled, or invited bigger fireworks from India in return.
The cognitive dissonance was dazzling: here was the head of a government whose military had just suffered a stinging slap pretending it had handed out the spanking. It is akin to a cricketer walking back to the pavilion, bat broken in half, helmet spinning on the pitch, claiming he retired voluntarily after hitting the winning six. And expecting applause.
Begging bowl diplomacy
Let us examine the choreography. Pakistan first raises the India bogey with Iran, attempting to triangulate sympathy in the name of Gaza, because why not bundle every global grievance into a single suitcase? Then, having failed to get more than a raised eyebrow from Ayatollah Khamenei, it proceeds to project magnanimity in ‘victory’ and calls for peace. One might call it the foreign policy equivalent of trying to negotiate with your landlord after setting the apartment on fire and claiming it was a misguided Diwali celebration.
Fiction over facts
Shehbaz’s claim that Pakistan emerged victorious in the four-day flare-up would be laughable if it weren’t such a staple of Rawalpindi’s press kits. The actual scoreboard tells a different tale: nine Indian strikes across PoK, over a hundred confirmed terrorist casualties, and retaliatory Pakistani attempts that triggered sharper Indian responses – including precision strikes on airbases deep inside Punjab province. Victory, in this context, seems to mean ‘we still have radar installations’.
This isn’t just gaslighting – it is a full-scale Diwali festival. It is the rhetorical equivalent of limping into a press conference, face bruised, and announcing, ‘You should see the other guy.’
Peace with pretence
Of course, one must always welcome peace, especially in a region that dances too often on the brink. But peace offered through clenched teeth and imaginary medals is hardly persuasive. When the subtext of your olive branch is, ‘We won, but we’re feeling generous,’ it begins to sound less like diplomacy and more like damage control wrapped in delusion.
Sharif’s overture, dripping with post-conflict bravado, might impress a domestic audience fed on ISPR highlight reels and nationalistic bedtime stories. But for the rest of the world, and for India, it reads like a desperate pivot from confrontation to conversation after being bested on the battlefield and snubbed in the boardroom.
The usual ending
So here we are again – another Pakistani PM, another change in tone, another high-pitched appeal for dialogue, all while denying the very provocations that necessitated Operation Sindoor. But perhaps we should indulge Sharif. After all, peace is better late and delusional than never. And if you squint hard enough, maybe those smouldering remains in PoK (Pakistan-occupied-Kashmir) do spell out ‘Mission Accomplished.’
