I still remember the shock on April 29, when India brazenly violated our airspace and killed innocent civilians in Pakistan. It was not an isolated incident of collateral damage—it was a flagrant breach of Pakistan’s sovereignty. In the days that followed, we waited, hoping New Delhi would register the gravity of its transgression and cease further provocations.
Instead, India dispatched multiple reconnaissance and armed drones toward our border installations. Our air defenses did their duty; each intruding drone was detected, tracked, and destroyed before it could inflict harm.
Then came last night’s escalation: India attempted to strike our air bases under cover of darkness. This time the Pakistan Air Force was ready. Advanced surface-to-air batteries sprang to life, and fighter jets swept in to intercept any incoming threat. The attack was foiled, and not a single PAF asset was harmed. Yet Islamabad understood that merely repelling these incursions would not restore the deterrence that India had so recklessly undermined. Thus, under direct orders from the civilian leadership and military high command, Pakistan launched Operation Bunyan Um Marsoos—“the solid, unbreakable structure.”
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That operation unfolded with stunning precision. At 5 am, Fateh-1 guided rockets thundered southward, their warheads zeroing in on pre-designated military targets. Security sources later confirmed that Halwara Air Force Station, the forward Indian base near Halwara town in Punjab, was destroyed in a decisive retaliatory strike. Minutes later, Pakistani artillery batteries opened up on Indian guns entrenched in the Phaklian sector, silencing hostile fire positions at Rabtanwali and Danna. Within an hour, special-mission drones had neutralized radar arrays over Pathankot, Poonch, and Jammu (IIOJK)—losses India’s own media subsequently acknowledged.
By pre-dawn, Pakistan’s list of achievements had grown remarkably long:
Sirsa Airfield in Haryana was rendered inoperable in a surgical guided-mortar strike—Indian outlets confirmed the destruction.
A critical military-intelligence training centre in (IIOJK) and another in Rajouri were demolished; these facilities had long been hubs for planning cross-border terror activities.
The powerful S-400 air-defense battery at Udhampur—valued at over $1.5 billion—was obliterated by hypersonic missiles launched from JF-17 Thunder fighters.
An Indian artillery-gun position in Dehrangyari was knocked out by Pakistani counter-battery fire.
The BrahMos cruise-missile storage facility in Nagrota was neutralized in a precision salvo.
Electronic-warfare teams jammed a key Indian military satellite, rendering it non-operational.
A Pakistani cyber-assault on Maharashtra’s State Electricity Transmission Company (MSETCL) plunged major urban centres into blackout and erased critical meter-data records.
As I followed each update, I felt immense pride. Pakistan had executed a fully integrated, multi-domain counter-strike: rockets, drones, artillery, cyber-warfare, and electronic attacks all synchronized to maximize effect while minimizing civilian risk. Crucially, none of our strikes touched civilian areas or sacred sites; our leaders had insisted on a strictly military-only operation, underscoring Pakistan’s respect for international law.
Strategically, Operation Bunyan Um Marsoos restored the balance of deterrence that India had shattered. New Delhi once assumed it could probe Pakistan’s defenses with impunity; now its planners must reckon with the Fateh’s range, the JF-17’s precision, and the cyber-warriors’ reach. I am convinced that for years to come, India will think twice before ordering another cross-border foray.
Diplomatically, Islamabad’s reputation soared. Beijing publicly lauded Pakistan’s measured retaliation; Moscow and Gulf capitals privately commended Islamabad’s professionalism. Even neutral observers noted that Pakistan had combined resolve with restraint—an art India failed to master when it bombed civilian neighbourhoods on April 29. In global capitals, strategists recalibrated their assessments of South Asia, recognizing Pakistan as a capable, responsible nuclear-armed state.
At home, the nation rallied behind its defenders. Social media brimmed with tributes to the PAF pilots who flew Fateh-armed sorties, to the artillery crews who silenced Indian guns, and to the cyber-specialists who blacked out industrial centres. I joined countless Pakistanis in calling for the Bunyan Um Marsoos Medal of Valor—a fitting honor for those who stood resolutely between our citizens and foreign aggression.
In retrospect, April 29 will be remembered not as the day Pakistan was terrorized, but as the moment we unequivocally asserted our right to self-defense. Operation Bunyan Um Marsoos showed the world that Pakistan will neither be bullied nor blamed for another state’s transgressions. We protected our skies, defended our people, and upheld the highest standards of conduct in modern warfare. To Pakistan’s armed forces and political leadership, I extend my deepest gratitude: you have earned every medal, every commendation, and the lasting respect of our nation.
