The Great South Asian Irony: When India and Afghanistan Shake Hands as History Watches

A photograph released by India’s Ministry of External Affairs on October 10, 2025, captured a scene steeped in irony. India’s Foreign Minister, Subrahmanyam Jaishankar, stood beside his Afghan counterpart, Amir Khan Muttaqi — a representative of a regime that bans girls from schools and women from work. Smiles were exchanged, hands shaken, and cameras flashed, yet beneath the polished surface lay centuries of unresolved history.

For more than a thousand years, Afghan rulers and warlords — from Mahmud of Ghazni and Muhammad Ghori to Ahmad Shah Abdali — had invaded India, leaving behind razed temples and wounded myths. Their names still echo in nationalist speeches, especially in India’s Hindutva narrative that thrives on reviving historical grievances. And yet, in modern Delhi, the heir to those conquerors was received with full diplomatic honour.

This was less diplomacy than theatre. The irony deepened as reports emerged that women journalists were not allowed to speak at the press briefing — a subtle but powerful metaphor for shared hypocrisies.

As India and Afghanistan exchanged smiles, the Pakistan-Afghanistan border was once again aflame. Clashes erupted in Kurram and Chaman, flags fell, and dust filled the air. The region’s contradictions came full circle:

1. India embraced a government it once shunned.
2. Afghanistan accused its former ally, Pakistan, of betrayal.
3. Pakistan retaliated with missiles named after the same conquerors who once devastated India — Ghaznavi, Ghauri, and Abdali.

If irony had a capital, it might lie somewhere between Delhi, Kabul, and Islamabad.

This episode highlights South Asia’s endless loop — where yesterday’s invader becomes today’s ally, and today’s ally becomes tomorrow’s threat. Pakistan names its missiles after Afghan kings, only to use them against Afghanistan. India glorifies those invasions in its mythology but rolls out the red carpet for their descendants. And Afghanistan, caught in between, plays both the victim and the aggressor — preaching sovereignty while sheltering insurgents that violate others’.

Amid this geopolitical theatre, women remain the silent constants — voiceless in Kabul and symbolically muted even in Delhi. Across the region, patriarchy remains the one shared tradition, binding adversaries together in hypocrisy.

In just one week, South Asia condensed centuries of contradiction into a single act: historical hostility dressed as modern diplomacy, political spectacle posing as realpolitik, and a bloodied border overshadowed by press conference pleasantries.

The Afghan foreign minister left Delhi with promises of trade and cooperation. Pakistan closed its border crossings. India celebrated a diplomatic ‘opening’. Yet behind each handshake, history smirked.

Perhaps the ghosts of Ghazni, Ghori, and Abdali are laughing still. The lands they once conquered and the empires they terrified have yet to escape their reflection. They remain bound by rivalry, suspicion, and showmanship — only the costumes have changed.

In South Asia’s theatre of politics, even irony has grown tired.