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It is a sad irony that so many of the world’s most politically complex and contested territories are also among its most beautiful. Hiking through Pakistan-administered Kashmir last week, it was easy to see why tourists seek out this region of lush forests, fast water, winding trails and spectacular views of the snow-capped Himalayas.

Equally clear was the tension along the so-called Line of Control, where Pakistani and Indian forces eye one another through towering deodar cedar trees from outposts just a few hundred meters apart. Since the partition of India by the departing British in 1947, these two vast nations have fought three wars and numerous border skirmishes over Kashmir, and simmering enmity has often threatened to boil over into conflict.

Even against that background, in recent years, this region has become a vacation hot spot for locals during a period of relative calm and a sustained effort to attract visitors. That atmosphere was brutally shattered three weeks ago, when militants killed 26 people, mostly Indian tourists, in the deadliest attack on Indian territory since the 2008 Mumbai massacre.

Survivors said the gunmen accused some of the victims of supporting Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi, whose Hindu-nationalist government stripped Muslim-majority Kashmir of its previous autonomy in 2019 — to angry protests. Kashmir has long been home to extremist groups, and other terrifying accounts told of women and children being separated from their male family members, with some of those men spared by their attackers only if they were able to recite verses from the Qur’an.

Kashmir has reverted to an all-too-familiar routine of watching and waiting, amid fear and, in some cases, profound grief

Nic Robertson

Almost immediately, India accused Pakistan of being behind the massacre. Pakistan, which has long been labeled a refuge for militant outfits, vigorously denied the claims, saying instead that it shut down such groups two decades ago and today fights a raging Islamist insurgency on its western border.

In the aftermath, Kashmir reverted to an all-too-familiar routine of watching and waiting, amid fear and, in some cases, profound grief. We met Malik Khadim, a farmer who lives in the village of Sarjiwar, on the Pakistani side of the Line of Control. He trembled as he choked back tears, his gaunt, weather-beaten cheeks betraying both the hardships of life in this picturesque but remote and impoverished region and the deep sadness of a man coming to terms with the death of a loved one, in this case his brother.

Malik Farouk was one of two Pakistanis shot dead by Indian forces just across the border the day after the massacre. Indian officials said the two men were planning a terror attack. Khadim instead says his brother was, like him, a simple farmer, attempting to retrieve cattle that had strayed across the unmarked, unfenced border. Regardless, his death would be one of many in this latest round of conflict.

Both words and actions from officials in New Delhi and Islamabad took on a familiar pattern following the attacks. Diplomats and civilians were expelled from both countries, access to airspace suspended. India spoke angrily of holding the terrorists, and Pakistan, to account; for its part, Pakistan vowed to respond to any attack on its territory as a matter of “military doctrine.”

Then, last Wednesday, tension became action. India launched strikes on what it called “terrorist” targets in both Pakistan and Pakistan-administered Kashmir, killing 31 people, according to Pakistani officials. Pakistan responded by shelling the Indian side of the Line of Control, killing at least 12 people, Indian officials said. Malik Khadim’s village was one of those caught up in the torrent of cross-border shell fire.

According to a senior Pakistani security source, a raging battle between Indian and Pakistani air forces ensued for over an hour. The source told CNN the clash was one of the “largest and longest in recent aviation history,” involving 125 fighter jets, with missile exchanges happening at distances sometimes greater than 160 km, and neither side’s aircraft actually crossing the Line of Control. CNN was unable to independently confirm the account, nor could it confirm Pakistan’s claims to have shot down five Indian fighter jets, although US and French sources have confirmed at least one Indian jet was downed. Drone and missile attacks have been exchanged and rhetoric from both sides remains bellicose.

I have reported on conflict between India and Pakistan here before, about 26 years ago, during the Kargil War. Back then, at least 1,000 soldiers died in a months-long series of battles. The stalemate and uneasy truce reached at that episode’s end reflected the fundamental realities of Kashmir’s often harsh environment.

The journey to Sarjiwar, on our military-facilitated trip, took us through snowfields, around freshly fallen rocks and along tracks strewn with giant boulders. As we traveled, only a line of trees separated us from precipitous drops and raging rivers below. The torrent flowing through those waterways is a prized commodity here, but it is easy to see why — despite that strategic importance — control of this rugged, inhospitable region has eluded those who have sought it for so many decades.

This time around, the tone from both sides felt more serious and implacable. Talk of war did not feel far-fetched

Nic Robertson

That does not mean they may not try again, of course. This time around, the tone from both sides had felt more serious and implacable. Talk of war, and all its inherent perils between these two nuclear powers, did not feel far-fetched. Indeed, the battles this time around raged deeper and more widely across both countries than in more than half a century, embracing missiles, cyberwarfare and drone technologies unimaginable those decades ago.

Then, in a flurry of phone calls at the weekend, diplomacy appeared to win through. A Pakistani official who was in the room on his government’s side at the time, told CNN it was the US and Secretary of State Marco Rubio making important calls on Saturday. A ceasefire, which Pakistani officials said had been in the works for several days, was reached.

President Donald Trump posted on his Truth Social platform that the US had brokered an end to the fighting. He congratulated the leaders of both countries for “using common sense and great intelligence,” but while Islamabad praised the American intervention, New Delhi downplayed it. The neighbors had worked directly on the truce, they said.

I spoke to Pakistan’s foreign minister on Monday, who confirmed to me that the US intervention was apparently sparked by “alarming intelligence,” indicating a “full-blown retaliation” from Pakistan was visibly unfolding. But the minister also said there was no direct contact between him and his counterpart.

For now, the truce appears to be holding, even if the powers give contradictory accounts of how it came about. However it happened, it has brought much-needed relief to those living in Kashmir. They know better than anyone that the consequences of a deeper conflict would be dire. As a Pakistani government source told me over the weekend, this could have spiraled into something much worse.

Several million people lead the most basic of lives in this region. While politicians thousands of miles away rehash old arguments, and as this latest deadly violence effectively curtails tourism and its promise of greater prosperity, all they can do is wait and hope for a more lasting resolution to this cycle of smoldering resentment.

• Nic Robertson is the International Diplomatic Editor of CNN.