It was a scene soaked in irony, as if history itself had decided to play a prank on South Asia. In New Delhi, the Afghan foreign minister — representing a regime that bans girls from schools and women from work — stood cheerfully beside India’s right-wing Hindu nationalist leadership, whose mythology is still haunted by the ghosts of Afghan invaders.
Together, they smiled for cameras, exchanged courtesies and addressed a press conference where, fittingly, women journalists were not allowed to speak.
This was theatre more than diplomacy. And the audience, both inside and outside the hall, could feel the layers of contradiction. For over a thousand years, Afghan kings and warlords had invaded India — from Mahmud of Ghazni and Muhammad Ghori to Ahmad Shah Abdali, leaving temples razed, kingdoms broken and myths scarred. These names are still invoked in nationalist speeches, particularly in the Hindutva imagination that thrives on resurrecting ancient wounds. Yet here was the foreign minister of their modern descendants, a guest of honour in the capital of those very grievances.
The smiles in Delhi masked something darker happening just a few hundred miles away. As the Afghan minister was being feted in India, Afghanistan and Pakistan were embroiled in clashes. Border posts were overrun, flags toppled and the dusty skies of Kurram and Chaman filled with smoke once again.
And thus, the triangle of oddity was complete: India hosted the emissary of the land that had once conquered it; Afghanistan accused Pakistan – its former benefactor – of betrayal; and Pakistan, firing missiles named Ghaznavi, Ghauri and Abdali, attacked the same soil from which those names once rode forth to plunder India.
If irony had a capital, it would be somewhere between Delhi, Kabul and Islamabad.
The tableau carried the absurd symmetry of a historical farce. The Taliban’s foreign minister, a representative of an ultra-orthodox regime that denies women even the right to education, was welcomed in a country where the ruling party has built its identity around reclaiming the past from Islamic ‘invaders’.
It is difficult to tell whether this moment was about diplomacy, desperation or symbolism. India, having long treated Afghanistan as a potential counterweight to Pakistan, suddenly found itself playing host to the very rulers it once refused to recognise. Afghanistan, isolated and cornered, sought legitimacy by reaching out to the only major neighbour willing to listen. Pakistan, losing influence in Kabul, resorted to the language it knows best — airstrikes.
But beneath the surface lies a deeper commentary on the region’s tragic circularity. History here is not linear; it loops. The invader becomes the ally, the ally becomes the target, and the target becomes the saviour. Pakistan names its weapons after Afghan conquerors, only to use them against Afghanistan. India invokes their invasions as national trauma yet rolls out the red carpet for their heirs. Afghanistan, once the high ground of empires, now plays both the victim and the aggressor – preaching sovereignty while hosting insurgents that violate others’.
And through it all, women remain voiceless. Not just at home in Kabul, but symbolically silenced even in Delhi’s press halls. The same patriarchal control that unites the region in practice divides it in rhetoric. Each capital claims moral superiority, yet all share the same blind spots.
In a single week, South Asia managed to condense its entire historical psychology into a single absurd performance: ancient enmity disguised as modern diplomacy; political theatre masquerading as realpolitik; a border bleeding while a press conference beamed goodwill.
The Afghan minister left Delhi with promises of trade and cooperation. Pakistan shut its borders in retaliation. India celebrated a diplomatic 'opening'. Yet, behind every handshake was a shadow.
The ghosts of Ghazni, Ghori and Abdali must be laughing. For the lands they once plundered and the empires they once terrified have not learned to outgrow their reflection. They still speak the same language — of suspicion, rivalry and spectacle. Only the costumes have changed.
And so, the stage is set again: India and Afghanistan shaking hands under chandeliers; Pakistan and Afghanistan firing rockets under clouds; and a thousand-year-old drama playing to a tired but captivated audience.
In the theatre of South Asia, even irony has run out of words.
The writer is an expert on climate change and sustainable development and the founder of the Clifton Urban Forest. He tweets/posts masoodlohar and can be reached at: mlohargmail.com
Disclaimer: The viewpoints expressed in this piece are the writer's own and don't necessarily reflect Geo.tv's editorial policy.