The ceremony, scheduled for mid-April, will coincide with the inauguration of a newly built memorial museum dedicated to troops killed during overseas deployment, particularly in Russia’s Kursk region, according to the Korean Central News Agency (KCNA).

South Korean officials estimate that around 2,000 North Korean troops have been killed since Pyongyang deployed thousands of personnel, along with missiles and munitions, to support Moscow’s war effort. North Korea confirmed last year that its forces were engaged in combat operations abroad and had suffered casualties.

Leader Kim Jong Un has overseen preparations for the ceremony and inspected the nearly completed museum, which state media said is 97% finished. KCNA reported that Kim praised the project as a symbol of “heroism” and described it as a site for promoting patriotism and commemorating the fallen.

Analysts say North Korea’s support for Russia has been reciprocated through financial assistance, food supplies, energy resources and military technology transfers, helping Pyongyang mitigate the impact of international sanctions imposed over its nuclear weapons program.

The burial ceremony will mark the first anniversary of what state media described as the “liberation operations” in Kursk, underscoring Pyongyang’s alignment with Moscow’s narrative of the conflict.

Kim has previously presided over similar commemorative events, with state media releasing images showing him paying respects to fallen soldiers, including ceremonies involving flag-draped coffins and interactions with returning troops.

This wasn’t the clean espionage of Hollywood—it was messy, lonely, and treacherous.

He was just 23 years old when he vanished from India—not into thin air, but into a role so consuming, so dangerous, that it would take everything from him, even his name. He resurfaced across the border in Pakistan as Nabi Ahmed Shakir, a young Muslim law student from Islamabad.

Behind that façade was Ravinder Kaushik, a deeply trained Indian intelligence operative, who would go on to penetrate the Pakistani Army, rise to the rank of Major, and live a double life of immeasurable risk—for a country that would eventually forget him.

Today, as borderlines tighten and intelligence wars evolve into digital domains, Ravinder Kaushik’s human story rises from the pages of history as a haunting reminder: the greatest spies aren’t found in surveillance rooms or drone footage. They walk among enemies, living lies to protect lives.

From Spotlight to Shadows

Born on April 11, 1952, in Sri Ganganagar, Rajasthan, Kaushik was no ordinary boy. A gifted actor and orator, he made waves on the theatre circuit during college. At SD Bihani College, his moving mono-act of an Indian soldier withstanding enemy torture caught the attention of RAW recruiters. It wasn’t just a performance. It was prophecy.

In 1973, RAW—India’s external intelligence agency—recruited the 21-year-old and subjected him to a rigorous two-year training regime. He learned Urdu, Islamic customs, Pakistani etiquette, and the subtle mechanics of espionage. The transformation was so complete that he underwent circumcision to pass as a true Muslim. And with that, Ravinder Kaushik ceased to exist.

A Life in Enemy Ranks

Kaushik arrived in Pakistan in 1975, posing as Nabi Ahmed Shakir. He enrolled in Karachi University to study law, building a convincing civilian front. Soon after, his academic record earned him a place in the Pakistani Army’s Military Accounts Department—a move that stunned even the most hardened RAW veterans.

By 1979, he was a Major—the first Indian agent to infiltrate the Pakistani military at such a level. He married a local woman, Amanat, and had a child, solidifying his cover. But what his family in Pakistan never knew was that every day, he lived in silent service to India, secretly sending classified troop positions, war strategies, and operational blueprints across the border.

For four years, from 1979 to 1983, his reports helped India thwart potential wars and cross-border threats, saving untold numbers of civilian and military lives. So vital was his intelligence that Prime Minister Indira Gandhi herself reportedly called him “The Black Tiger.”

But even the perfect spy can only balance for so long on a wire stretched over fire. Kaushik’s deception wasn’t digital—it was human. He prayed like a Muslim, celebrated Eid, played cricket with Pakistani officers, and kept fasts during Ramadan. His intelligence dispatches were transmitted through invisible ink, dead drops, and relays via agents in Kuwait and Dubai.

This wasn’t the clean espionage of Hollywood—it was messy, lonely, and treacherous. In an age with no GPS trackers or secure satellite phones, one misstep meant death.

And that step came in 1983.

RAW sent another agent, Inyat Masih, into Pakistan to re-establish contact with Kaushik. But Masih was caught, and under severe torture by ISI, he revealed Kaushik’s identity. A trap was set. Believing Masih’s ruse, Kaushik walked straight into it.

He was arrested instantly.

Torture, Silence, and Prison Walls

For the next two years, Kaushik was kept in Sialkot under intense interrogation. He was tortured—physically and mentally. But he never broke. He never betrayed another name, another mission.

In 1985, he was sentenced to death, but the Pakistani Supreme Court commuted it to life imprisonment. He was shuffled between prisons—Sialkot, Kot Lakhpat, Mianwali—slowly fading behind iron gates.

His only connection to the outside world came through smuggled letters to his family in India. In one of them, he bitterly wrote: “Had I been an American, I would have been out of this jail in three days.”

But India was silent. No rescue mission. No diplomatic plea. Only a whisper of gratitude hidden behind red-taped silence.

In November 2001, after 16 years of suffering, Kaushik died in Mianwali Jail—from tuberculosis and heart disease. No last rites. No coffin. He was buried anonymously inside prison walls, forgotten by both the land he served and the one he infiltrated.

Why Ravinder Kaushik Matters Today

His story inspired films like Ek Tha Tiger and Romeo Akbar Walter. But none bore his name in the credits. None sought permission from his family. Even here, he remained a ghost—honored in shadows, yet denied in daylight.

Within RAW circles, he is still legend. Yet the public memory barely stirs when his name is spoken. No roads, no medals, no memorials.

What then, is the value of sacrifice, if not remembered?

His story isn’t just about India or Pakistan. It’s about the human price of patriotism, the emotional toll of espionage, and the invisible wars that shape nations long before formal declarations.

In an era of artificial intelligence and cyberwarfare, Kaushik’s legacy reminds us: spies are still flesh and blood. They love, cry, ache, and break—but never on paper. Only in prison cells, through ink-smudged letters, and whispered names.

Ravinder Kaushik didn’t just serve India. He became the border. Every day he lived in Pakistan was a day India remained one step ahead. Yet, when he needed a voice, he heard none.

We owe him more than silence.

It is time India writes his name in textbooks. It is time children learn that freedom sometimes wears enemy uniforms. That sometimes, the greatest patriots are those we never know existed.

May we say his name louder now: Ravinder Kaushik. May we salute the man who became The Black Tiger—and gave his roar in silence.

In a widely circulated video, Shaykh Rahmani warns the Muslim youth not to fall victim to what he calls a “foreign conspiracy” aimed at sowing religious confusion. Speaking in Urdu with restrained passion, he said, “The propaganda is coming from across the border — in English — camouflaged under Islamic scholarship to mislead Indian Muslims.”

Shaykh Rahmani’s comments come amid a social media campaign reportedly originating from Pakistan, which discourages Muslims in India from joining the armed forces, branding it un-Islamic.

“They could not establish Shariah in their own land,” he said, referring to Pakistan, “so now they are targeting Indian Muslims, creating doubt over something that has no basis in Islamic creed.”

The senior Salafi scholar made it clear that enlisting in the Indian Army is a personal and civic decision, not a theological dilemma. “This is not an issue of Islam versus Kufr. Joining the army does not turn one into a disbeliever,” he asserted. “It is about protecting the nation, just as any other country’s military defends its own borders.”

Shaykh Rahmani emphasized that the Indian Army is a national institution and not a religious one, and that its role should not be misrepresented through sectarian lenses. “There is a security matter between two countries — not between two faiths. Don’t confuse patriotism with blasphemy,” he cautioned.

This video has gained traction amid ongoing discussions about the role of Muslims in India’s armed forces. Many within the community serve with distinction in the military, and the government has repeatedly highlighted its secular credentials in national institutions.

However, voices that attempt to religiously polarize such national duties, whether domestic or foreign, raise concerns about the manipulation of faith for political or ideological gain.

Security analysts and interfaith scholars have also weighed in, warning that conflating national duty with religious betrayal is not only misleading but potentially destabilizing. “This narrative isn’t just misguided — it’s dangerous,” said one Delhi-based interfaith researcher. “It isolates Indian Muslims from civic responsibility and plays straight into divisive hands.”

The Abul Kalam Azad Islamic Awakening Centre, under Shaykh Rahmani’s leadership, has been vocal in countering extremism and religious misinterpretation, especially among urban Muslim youth. His recent statements are seen as part of a broader effort to reclaim religious narratives from geopolitical agendas.

As India navigates complex domestic and regional dynamics, scholars like Shaykh Rahmani are emerging as vital voices defending both Islamic integrity and national unity.

The event took place at Laxmi Garden Hall, nestled along Sagar Road, where the atmosphere brimmed with energy. The hall was jampacked with enthusiastic parents, proud teachers, and gleeful students. Drone shots captured the grandeur of the evening, complemented by vibrant lighting and a series of impressive student performances — from skits and speeches to skill demonstrations and cultural showcases.

Zahack Tanvir, a globally recognized voice from India, delivered a keynote speech that resonated far beyond the walls of the hall. Addressing students, parents, and educators alike, he emphasized the deeper essence of education in shaping a just and resilient society.

“We celebrate not just certificates and medals — we celebrate progress. We celebrate the future,” Zahack began.

Drawing from Islamic tradition and modern-day challenges, he spoke of the need to pursue knowledge not merely for jobs, but for the betterment of humanity. Quoting the Prophet Muhammad, he reminded the audience that seeking knowledge is a lifelong obligation upon every Muslim — men and women alike.

He cautioned against the perils of the information age: “We live in a time of too much information — YouTube, WhatsApp, Instagram, and now AI like ChatGPT. But not everything you see is true. Not everything you hear is wise. We need something more powerful than information — we need wisdom.”

His speech also addressed societal development and national loyalty, calling on the youth to be agents of constructive change: “Governments will come and go. But our country remains. India is our home. Be builders, not breakers. Don’t fall for hate or propaganda. This land has given us freedom and opportunity — let’s give back.”

A particularly powerful moment came when he celebrated the legacy of educated Muslim women in Islamic history — citing Khadijah (RA) and Ayesha (RA) as role models — and urged parents to empower their daughters through education and dignity. “If you have daughters, give them wings. Let them fly high in education and in honour.”

He also cited Shifa Bint Abdullah al-Adawiyya, who was a healer and scholar, and the second caliph of Islam Umar Al-Khattab would consult her for affairs related to trade market.

Speaking directly to the children, Zahack shared heartfelt advice on kindness, discipline, curiosity, and dreaming big. He narrated the story of a baby eagle that was raised in a chicken coop — unaware of its true potential, it spent its life clucking and pecking like a chicken, never realizing it was meant to soar. He urged the students to recognize their inner strength and greatness.

“Don’t let your surroundings limit your potential. You are meant to fly. Be like the eagle — not trapped among chickens,” he said, drawing applause and reflection from the audience.

The event also saw the felicitation of Zahack Tanvir by the school’s founder, Mr. Ismail Hadeesi, alongside other distinguished guests including Islamic scholars Shaykh Ibrahim Mohammedi, Shaykh Abdus-Samad Madani, educationist Mohammed Ateeq, and Mr. Mohammed Afsar Mohiuddin.

In his closing remarks, Mr. Hadeesi thanked the attendees, faculty, and parents for their unwavering support in nurturing the next generation of thinkers, leaders, and changemakers.

The celebration was more than a graduation — it was a reflection of hope, resilience, and the enduring power of education in a world hungry for both knowledge and compassion.

National Day celebrations are a significant event in many countries, marking a moment of unity, pride, and reflection on a nation’s history and achievements. Imam Sudais’ remarks serve as a poignant reminder of the role that patriotism plays in shaping a cohesive and thriving society.

Abdul Rahman Ibn Abdul Aziz al-Sudais, commonly known as Al-Sudais, serves as one of the nine imams at the Grand Mosque, Masjid al-Haram, in Makkah, Saudi Arabia. He also holds the position of president at the General Presidency for the Affairs of the Two Holy Mosques.

Known for his enchanting recitation of Quran, and influence in Makkah and beyond, expressed the view that celebrating National Day extends beyond mere festivity. Instead, he believes it represents a deep-seated sense of love and loyalty to one’s homeland, echoing the sentiments of countless individuals who cherish their nation’s values, traditions, and shared identity.

The Imam’s statement takes on added significance as it positions patriotism as not just a cultural or civic sentiment but as a religious duty. This perspective aligns with the belief that love and devotion to one’s country can be seen as an extension of one’s faith and commitment to the well-being of the nation’s people.

Moreover, Imam Sudais contends that celebrating National Day is not merely a personal choice but a collective and nationwide aspiration.

As Imam Sudais’ message serves as a compelling call to action for individuals and communities to come together, celebrate their nation’s achievements, and renew their commitment to the principles that unite them.

This also shows that loving your country can mean different things to different people, including being connected to your faith and community. It reminds that National Day brings everyone together, no matter where they come from or what they believe in.