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Pahalgam: The Baisaran meadow, often called ‘Mini Switzerland,’ is once again bustling with the rhythmic clip-clop of horses and the excited chatter of tourists. But for one family in the valley, the spring air is heavy with a silence that no amount of tourism can fill.

It has been exactly one year since the blood-stained evening of April 22, 2024, a day when a terrorist attack claimed 26 lives in Pahalgam. Among the fallen was Adil Hussain Shah, a 34-year-old Poniwala (horseman) who had been ferrying visitors across these mountains since 2010.

Adil wasn’t just a victim; he was a shield. In a final, desperate act of bravery, he attempted to snatch a weapon from a Lashkar-e-Taiba terrorist to protect the tourists he had guided to the meadow.

Today, as his family marks the first anniversary of his sacrifice, the story of Adil Hussain Shah has become a testament to a brand of courage that transcends the borders of faith.

A father’s pride

Sitting in a house filled with framed memories, Syed Haider Shah, Adil’s father, speaks of his son with a voice that wavers between agonising grief and immense pride. For him, the most profound legacy his son left behind was the colour of the blood he spilled, a blood that he says was shed for humanity, not for a sect.

“He did not see Hindus, Muslims, or Sikhs,” the elderly father says. “He showed that humanity comes first and that the same blood flows in everyone’s veins.”

Reflecting on the philosophy that no religion was part of his father’s upbringing of him, Syed Haider notes that Adil’s actions were an example of humanity above all religious boundaries. While the world may see a tragedy, Haider sees a son who lived out the truest form of the faith he was taught, “to protect the guest at any cost”.

“No matter what we get, Adil will not come back. The heart is not at peace,” Haider confesses. The family received support from Maharashtra Deputy Chief Minister Eknath Shinde, who provided financial assistance and fulfilled a promise to build a house for them. Yet, as Haider looks at the new walls, his eyes drift to the pictures of the son who was the family’s backbone. “He was our support. He took care of everyone, his parents, his brothers. Now, he is buried, and we miss him every moment.”

A widow’s silent struggle

If Syed Haider Shah is the voice of Adil’s legacy, Gulnaz Akhtar is the silent face of its cost. Gulnaz was married to Adil for six years. Her life has been a series of cruel blows; she was still mourning the loss of her stillborn daughter when the news of Adil’s death reached her doorstep. In an instant, she lost her partner, her provider, and her future.

“I now live with my parents and work to sustain myself,” Gulnaz says, her voice heavy. “A job will not bring him back, and life feels impossible without a partner.”

Recounting that fateful April morning, she remembers the mundane rituals of a happy life. Adil offered his namaz (prayers), shared tea and breakfast with her, and bid her a quiet goodbye as he headed to work. By evening, the man who had walked out the door was everywhere in the news.

Following his death, Gulnaz made the difficult decision to leave her in-laws’ home. “Who would I stay there with? When my husband is not there, what would I do staying there?” she asks. Despite the hardship of starting over alone, she clings to the pride of his final moments. “I take immense pride that Adil died saving tourists… I miss him deeply.”

The lone local hero

Adil was among the 26 people killed that day. For over a decade, he had been a fixture in Pahalgam, starting as a young man assisting his father during the annual Amarnath Yatra. Over the years, he became a familiar, trusted face for pilgrims and tourists alike.