Trade and terrorism are often uneasily yoked together in the geopolitics of South Asia. The recent decision by India to impose a trade ban on imports from Pakistan following the Pahalgam terror attack—which tragically claimed 26 lives—was one of many such moves in the ever-tense relationship between the two neighbours. While the immediate aim was to signal India’s displeasure and deny economic benefits to a state seen as harbouring and encouraging cross-border terror networks, the ripple effects of this decision have reached far and wide, finding an unlikely protagonist in the form of Himalayan Pink Salt. Produced in the Khewra mines of Pakistan’s Punjab province, Himalayan Pink Salt has, over the years, transcended its status as a humble seasoning. Packaged attractively and marketed globally for its purported health benefits and aesthetic appeal, it has become a premium commodity in wellness and culinary markets. India, despite being its political rival, has historically been a major importer of this salt. Pakistani exporters supplied the raw form; Indian traders processed, repackaged, and re-exported it—earning valuable margins in the process. The arrangement may have been uneasy, but it was economically sound, benefiting businesses on both sides. All of that came to a sudden halt after April 22. India’s closure of the Attari-Wagah land transit route choked the movement of goods, including pink salt. Pakistan’s retaliatory move—halting all bilateral trade, including via third countries—only widened the fracture. And thus, a thriving corridor of low-key, low-volume trade, which had managed to survive even through multiple political crises in the past, finds itself shuttered. But if the pink salt trade was collateral damage in a geopolitical game of signalling and retaliation, it has also become a case study in resilience and realignment. While Indian traders scramble to adapt to shortages and rising prices (with retail prices rising from ₹50 to ₹80/kg), Pakistani exporters are attempting to see the ban not as a dead-end but as a redirection.
This pivot has long-term implications. For one, it diminishes India’s role as a processing and re-exporting hub for pink salt, reducing a niche trade advantage. Second, it lays bare the fragility of informal and unstructured economic ties that exist between India and Pakistan. Bilateral trade, once pegged at nearly $3 billion in 2018, has dwindled to a mere $1.2 billion in 2024. Even now, a chunk of trade—particularly Indian exports like pharmaceuticals and chemicals—continues to flow through unofficial channels via Dubai and Singapore, highlighting both the absurdity and persistence of underground economic cooperation between declared adversaries. At the heart of this issue lies a recurring paradox. Trade, which could be a bridge between two nuclear-armed neighbours sharing cultural and historical commonalities, has instead become a lever of political expression. Every diplomatic rift triggers tariffs, bans, and blockades. Every attempt at rapprochement is fragile, vulnerable to sabotage by a single act of terror. This cycle serves neither side. For India, it forecloses avenues of regional integration and hurts importers and consumers who often have little say in the security calculus. What’s more, it exposes India’s dependency on raw material imports, even in sectors where it claims to lead in manufacturing or branding. The fact that India has long been exporting Himalayan Pink Salt as an Indian-origin product—despite it being mined exclusively in Pakistan—is not just a legal loophole but a reminder of how marketing often masks material realities. With Pakistan asserting its GI rights more vigorously, India must re-evaluate its approach to sourcing and branding imported raw materials.
At the policy level, India is within its rights to respond to terrorism with diplomatic and economic countermeasures. No country can allow business as usual after a grievous terror attack. But while such steps may win political points and offer catharsis, they often lack staying power unless backed by a broader vision. A reactive trade policy, tethered tightly to the volatile rhythm of geopolitics, is no substitute for strategic economic planning. It is also imperative for Indian policymakers and trade strategists to recognise that punitive measures like trade bans have limited long-term effectiveness unless they are part of a consistent, credible, and enforceable framework. The story of Himalayan Pink Salt in the India-Pakistan conflict is more than just a tale of interrupted trade. It is emblematic of a deeper structural dysfunction in bilateral relations—where even a mineral as basic as salt cannot escape the politics of enmity. Until that changes, both countries will continue to lose far more than they gain from their estrangement.