W itnesses say it was an ordinary, albeit cold day in Kashmir when Adil Ahmad Dar drove his car into an Indian paramilitary convoy and detonated his explosives, killing 40 soldiers and himself in the deadliest attack of the region’s 30-year-old insurgency.

Dar’s actions did not only affect the lives of those Indian paramilitary officers and their families. The attack took place on the busy main highway between the region’s two main cities, Srinagar and Jammu. Body parts flew into the gardens of nearby homes, where children were playing. Residents were hurt, some badly, by broken glass, as the force of the blast shattered every window in a hamlet by the road. A row of shops lining the highway was badly damaged, and many have still not reopened.

And on a much greater scale, the suicide bomber could scarcely have thought his actions would bring south Asia closer to the brink of nuclear conflict than at any point in the past two decades.

After the Pakistan-based jihadi group Jaish-e-Mohammed (JeM) claimed responsibility for what is now known as the Pulwama bombing, India launched its first airstrikes on Pakistan since 1971. When Pakistan retaliated with its own show of aerial force, a dogfight ensued in which an Indian plane and its pilot came down in Pakistan-administered Kashmir.

Pakistan’s decision to return the pilot has eased the international community’s fears of an imminent war. But India does not rule out further airstrikes on Pakistan and, here in Kashmir, large-scale troop movements and a wide crackdown on separatist groups show the situation is still far from normal.

At the heart of this crisis lies the restive, mostly agricultural region of south Kashmir, which encompasses Pulwama district.

Fire on the streets as Indians react to the Pulwama bombing attack Show all 13 1 /13 Fire on the streets as Indians react to the Pulwama bombing attack Fire on the streets as Indians react to the Pulwama bombing attack Indian muslims in Mumbai burn posters of Pakistani prime minister Imran Khan, center, and Hafiz Saeed, chief of Pakistani religious group Jamaat-ud-Dawa, during a protest against Thursday's attack on a paramilitary convoy in Kashmir that killed at least 40 AP Fire on the streets as Indians react to the Pulwama bombing attack Policeman walk past vehicles set on fire in Jammu by a mob during a protest against Thursday's attack on a paramilitary convoy AP Fire on the streets as Indians react to the Pulwama bombing attack Vehicles are set on fire in Jammu during protests following the attack AP Fire on the streets as Indians react to the Pulwama bombing attack Indian Muslims hold a protest in Mumbai the day after the terrorist attack AFP/Getty Images Fire on the streets as Indians react to the Pulwama bombing attack Mourners gather for the cremation of Central Reserve Police Force soldier Mahesh Yadav, who was killed in Thursday's bombing in Kashmir AP Fire on the streets as Indians react to the Pulwama bombing attack Protestors in Jammu throw stones during a clash between communities while protesting against Thursday's attack on a paramilitary convoy that killed at least 40 in Kashmir AP Fire on the streets as Indians react to the Pulwama bombing attack Indian police men keep vigil next to a barbed wire fencing during the third day of curfew in Jammu AP Fire on the streets as Indians react to the Pulwama bombing attack India's ruling Bharatiya Janata Party workers in Mumbai burn a symbolic effigy of Pakistan as part of protest against Thursday's attack on a paramilitary convoy in Kashmir, AP Fire on the streets as Indians react to the Pulwama bombing attack Central Reserve Police Force (CRPF) soldiers pay tribute to their colleague Maneswar Basumatary, who was killed in Thursday's bombing in Kashmir AP Fire on the streets as Indians react to the Pulwama bombing attack Indian army soldiers patrol during a curfew in Jammu on February 16, 2019 AFP/Getty Images Fire on the streets as Indians react to the Pulwama bombing attack A crowd carries a victim's coffin during a cremation ceremony AFP/Getty Images Fire on the streets as Indians react to the Pulwama bombing attack A relative of Indian Central Reserve Police Force (CRPF) trooper Sudip Biswas mourns over his coffin at Kolkata airport AFP/Getty Images Fire on the streets as Indians react to the Pulwama bombing attack Mourners gather for the cremation of Central Reserve Police Force soldier Mahesh Yadav, who was killed in Thursday's bombing in Kashmir AP

It’s a place where the view that Kashmir should be an independent state has taken deep root. Local mainstream political parties say it is too dangerous to canvass for votes in much of south Kashmir and even the security forces will only come here at night, to conduct regular raids of homes suspected of militant links known as “cordon and search operations”.

Here, in a village overlooking orchards and paddy fields, is the farmhouse where Dar grew up, living with his close-knit family until March 2018 when aged just 19 he disappeared.

“I searched everywhere for Adil after he went missing, for more than a month,” says Ghulam Hassan Dar, the bomber’s father, in an interview with The Independent.

Military convoy in the streets of Srinagar, Kashmir

“Like any parent would, I wanted to ask him to come back. Bringing up a child is so very hard, you spend so much time, a lot of money. I had hoped, like any parent, that he would grow up to be a doctor, or have a profession of some kind.”

In April, an image was posted to Dar’s Facebook page which confirmed the family’s worst fears. It shows him framed in a soft focus, but serious-looking, and surrounded by poetic script glorifying “the blood of the martyr” – and holding two AK-47 rifles.

Dar had joined JeM, an armed Islamist group that seeks to force India from its half of Kashmir and see it absorbed into Pakistan.

India’s investigations continue into exactly what role JeM played in preparing Dar for the Pulwama attack, though Kashmiri experts say it is unlikely he crossed over into Pakistan himself.

Ghulam Dar says he feels “extremely bad” for the families of the paramilitary officers killed by his son. “I am sorry for the loss of lives, I know how they are feeling,” to have lost their sons, he insists.

But he also will not go so far as to say that what Dar did was wrong.

“This is the struggle for freedom [for Kashmir],” he says. “We cannot tell them [the militants] that they are on the wrong path. The real villains are the politicians who are playing politics with Kashmir, and this leads to violence. This war will not stop until we are free.”

Asked if he believes his son was a terrorist, Ghulam Dar says: “I don’t care much about what the world is calling him. His own people call him a martyr. We had a funeral for him here, and 20,000, 30,000 people came.

“I am proud of my son. Proud in the sense that whatever he did in joining militant ranks, he did it because of his people.”

I am proud of my son. Proud in the sense that whatever he did in joining militant ranks, he did it because of his people Ghulam Hassan Dar, bomber’s father

The Pakistani government, which launched a limited crackdown on JeM members this week, has demanded India provide proof that the militants’ Pakistan infrastructure had a direct hand in the bombing before it can bring any cases to trial.

Media reports in India describe Dar as “radicalised” by JeM and prime minister Narendra Modi has, in a show of his strongman credentials ahead of an upcoming general election, vowed that India will not “allow our neighbour to destabilise us”, laying blame for the bombing entirely at Pakistan’s door.

But questions are not really being asking about what it was that led a young man with seemingly no prior links to Pakistan or extreme Islamist views to join a dangerous militant group and blow himself up on a highway just 10km from his home.

As a young child, Dar was “very friendly and good with people”, a “regular guy” who “never picked a fight with anyone”, members of his family say.

He was a very dutiful child, Ghulam Dar says of his son.

“He would do anything that was asked of him, and was up for any kind of work. Whoever was asking in the family – me, his mother, anybody – he would do it readily.”

He performed well in school and at the local, mainstream madrassa and, perhaps just as importantly in this part of the world, he was a gifted cricketer, captain of the school team. His favourite player was MS Dhoni.

Adil’s younger brother, Aarif: ‘I couldn’t believe it was my brother ... I loved him. I still love him’ (Adam Withnall/The Independent)

His younger brother, Aarif Ahmad Dar, 18, speaks admirably of Dar’s abilities in Quranic studies. He had already memorised eight of the 30 chapters of the Islamic holy book.

Dar was not the most popular boy at school growing up, but nor was he a loner, Aarif says. He had one very good friend, a slightly older, bookish boy named Sameer Ahmad Dar. They disappeared together to join JeM, Dar’s family says. Sameer Ahmad is still out there somewhere in hiding.

On the day of the bombing, Aarif was out in Srinagar and did not get home until 6.30pm, some three hours after the blast. He arrived to a crowd – of villagers, family members, and security forces everywhere. “I couldn’t believe it was my brother,” he says. Dar may have left to join JeM, he adds, but, “I loved him. I still love him.”

In trying to explain what led Dar to join up with the militants, members of the family point to two transformative incidents which, they say, left him “changed”.

The first came when Dar was 18. He was walking home from school, the family says, and passing through the village when he came upon a clash between local men, throwing stones, and members of the Indian security forces.

Dar was grabbed and accused of being an agitator. As a public punishment, the family says, armed soldiers made him spit on the ground next to their jeep and then get on all fours, rubbing his nose in the dirt.

“He was embarrassed – his classmates saw the whole thing,” Aarif says.

Some three or four months passed before a second, more serious episode with the Indian CRPF (Central Reserve Police Force). During a protest, Dar’s friend was shot before his eyes. As he went to help him, soldiers again opened fire, this time shooting Dar himself in the leg.

It was this incident, the family says, that silenced any interest Dar had in pursuing his studies. Stuck at home during his recovery and in considerable pain with three steel pins in his leg where the bullet had shattered his bones, he became distant and depressed.

“He was still respectful, but he would be angry at times, because he was in a lot of pain,” says his father.

The last conversation Ghulam Dar had with his son, just before he disappeared to join JeM, was about how, if he wasn’t going to be continuing with his studies, Dar needed to start contributing to earn money for the family.

“I told him that if he is not able to study, he had better learn a skill, and start earning. We talked about him investing in a commercial rickshaw and getting work – it was Adil’s suggestion.”

The next time his father saw Dar, it was in a photo, with a gun in each hand.

Captured Indian pilot Abhinandan Varthaman crosses back to India

Armed Indian security personnel still guard the stretch of road where Dar overtook the back of a long CRPF convoy, reportedly consisting of more than 2,500 officers, and detonated his explosives, completely destroying one bus and badly damaging another.

The roof of the bus landed in a vegetable garden belonging to Shabir Ahmed, and was followed by body parts – many of them, Ahmed tells The Independent.

He is unable to be more specific because at the booming sound of the explosion, everyone in the house fled out the back gate as fast as they could run, towards the river.

Ahmed’s brother suffered cuts to the back of his head as every window in the house shattered at once, and his six-year-old son was cut in the face. Their first thought as to what was happening? “Doomsday,” Ahmed says.

Shahid, 12, says he was in the front garden when the bus was blown up on the road above, no more than 30 yards away. He does not fully understand what happened, only that “they told me there was an explosion”.

Armed officers swarmed the area as soon as the convoy was struck, firing into the air to scare off anyone who came near to see what was going on.

“I was told by the soldiers not to go up onto the road,” Shahid says, and the message has stuck. Two weeks later, he says he hasn’t left his home once.

Up above the house, the crater which formed when the car bomb was detonated has been hastily filled in with fresh tarmac, and a large square of yellow spray paint indicates that the spot is still under investigation.

It is not clear exactly what is being investigated, says Siraj Ahmed, a shopkeeper who was working in his store directly facing the spot on the road where the explosion happened. No one has been along to take his witness statement, he says.

The blast destroyed most of his shopfront and damaged any stock that was on display outside. Everyone fled when the soldiers opened fire, yet even when he returned to lock up the store 24 hours later, he says he was slapped to the ground by a police officer and told to stay away. “It was a bad day, a bad day for everyone,” he says.

Since 2017, India’s strategy to deal with separatist militancy in Kashmir has been dubbed “Operation All-Out”, an aggressive approach that has seen whole villages cordoned off and raided in the night in pursuit of would-be militants and their supporters.

On a visit to Srinagar less than two weeks before the Pulwama bombing, Narendra Modi vowed to continue with this iron-fisted approach, saying he would “break the back of terrorism” in the state.

And in his statement explaining the decision to conduct airstrikes on Pakistan last week, India’s foreign secretary Vijay Gokhale said it came after “a suicide terror attack conducted by a Pakistan-based terrorist organisation”, and amid “credible intelligence that … another suicide terror attack” was being prepared.

By characterising Kashmiri militancy as Pakistan-fuelled “terrorism”, the government in Delhi seeks international backing for its “all-out” methods in what is often described as the most highly militarised region in the world. Analysts estimate there are 650,000 armed Indian security personnel in Jammu and Kashmir, outnumbering around 300 active militants by 2,000 to one.

At the end of the day they are our boys, our young boys. Why did they become militants? We need to go to the core of the problem Tanvir Sadiq, Jammu & Kashmir National Conference politician

But local political groups say the discourse of radicalisation and counterterror has allowed Indian forces to blame Pakistan for any failures while acting with impunity themselves.

In the case of the Pulwama bomber, no one here argues that Dar could have carried out such a devastating attack without the support of Pakistan-based JeM. At the same time, his family say he never would have turned to the group were it not for his damaging encounters with the Indian security forces.

Tanvir Sadiq, a senior politician in the region, says that “of course, the Pulwama bomber is a terrorist. Anyone who resorts to killing anyone is a terrorist – there is no second thought about it.”

But he says that Dar’s actions also had a clear, political, anti-India motivation, and “unless and until you see the problem politically, you will see this happening again and again”.