It was a gentle morning, the kind where birds sang despite traffic, and the chaiwalla smiled despite inflation. And then—boom! Not just the sound of a bomb, but the shattering of peace, the unraveling of normalcy, and the beginning of what the terrorist truly wanted: fear, division, and a society suspicious of itself.

You see, the aim of a terrorist isn’t merely to reduce people to numbers in a news ticker—twenty seven dead, fifty injured. That’s just a headline. What he really wants is the footnote—the one that quietly poisons your soul: “Suspected to be from a certain community.”

Ah yes, that little line. That’s the real weapon of mass destruction.

The terrorist isn’t targeting a location. He’s targeting your mind. His craft isn’t death; it’s division.

He hates the peace process. Hates it when Hindus and Muslims smile at each other. He cringes when a Sikh feeds a starving Christian during a flood. He fumes when leaders sit down for talks instead of shouting into microphones. Because unity renders him irrelevant.

So what does he do? He stirs the pot with a bang.

And we, like clockwork, start boiling.

We begin the blame game—not at the man who pulled the trigger, mind you, but at his entire community. “They are all like this!” we say, as if God handed us a gavel and said, “Go judge seven million people based on one man’s madness.”

And then our dear politicians, smelling the sweet perfume of an upcoming election, climb on this tragedy like it’s a podium. “Vote for me, I’ll protect you from them,” they say, pointing fingers with such precision you’d think they were trained snipers themselves.

But here’s what nobody tells you: every time we let our emotions be hijacked, the terrorist wins.

Every time a mosque is vandalized, a church is threatened, a temple is defiled in response to a terrorist act—the bomber laughs. Oh, he chuckles with satisfaction, because his plan is working. He doesn’t need to plant more bombs; we’re doing the rest of the work for him.

So what’s the real weapon against terror?

It’s not a drone, or a gun, or another fancy surveillance system. It’s your tongue. Control it.

And it’s your heart. Don’t let it be colonized by hate.

We must also do something even more radical: muzzle our politicians, and TV anchors, when they try to play tambola with our emotions. When they use terror to fish for votes, we need to throw their bait back in their faces. No applause, no retweets, no votes.

Because this battle—this true war on terror—is not won in bunkers or war-rooms. It’s won in tea stalls and temples, mosques and markets, churches and chat groups, when we decide that no shooters however cruel, will drown out our sensibility.

That’s how we win. And that’s how we don’t become the next victim.

There is no other way…!

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