Unconfirmed but rapidly proliferating reports across Indian digital outlets and social media networks suggest a seismic shift in South Asia’s strategic landscape: an alleged Indian precision strike on Pakistan’s Kirana Hills — a sensitive, historically cloaked nuclear site — possibly executed under a covert military operation dubbed Operation Sindoor. The claims, still unverified by any official state authority or international nuclear watchdog, are as audacious as they are consequential.
If true, the implications would ripple far beyond the subcontinent, redrawing redlines in South Asia’s fragile nuclear equilibrium. But as the fog of disinformation, denial, and digital sleuthing deepens, one critical question lingers: Did India actually breach the nuclear threshold in a shadow conflict that the world wasn’t meant to see?
Kirana Hills, a rugged expanse nestled near the heavily fortified city of Sargodha in central Pakistan, has long been enveloped in secrecy. It’s not just a geographical formation — it’s a Cold War-era relic of Pakistan’s nuclear ambitions. Throughout the 1980s and early ’90s, the hills reportedly hosted a series of sub-critical, or “cold,” nuclear tests under the direction of Dr. Abdul Qadeer Khan and his team at Kahuta Research Laboratories. These tests validated the triggering mechanisms and bomb designs for a functioning nuclear device, without producing a full-scale detonation.
Now, Indian media outlets claim that the very site which birthed Pakistan’s nuclear deterrent was struck by cruise missiles launched from Indian air platforms or stand-off weapons systems as part of a limited yet highly calibrated strike package — one aimed not at provoking full-scale war, but signaling dominance.
Codenamed Operation Sindoor (a reference to red, sacred powder symbolizing power and assertion in Hindu tradition), the alleged campaign reportedly involved the BrahMos and SCALP-EG missile systems — both capable of precision strikes at long ranges. Among the claimed targets were Kirana Hills itself, Mushaf Airbase in Sargodha, and the strategic Noor Khan Airbase near Rawalpindi, a site closely tied to Pakistan’s nuclear command infrastructure.
In a rare, tightly managed press briefing, Indian Air Vice Marshal A.K. Bharti attempted to quash the rumors. “We have not hit Kirana Hills — whatever is there. I did not brief about it in my briefing on Operation Sindoor yesterday,” he said tersely, neither confirming nor offering details on what Operation Sindoor actually entailed.
He went on to quip, with palpable irony, “Thank you for telling us Kirana Hills houses nuclear installations. We did not know it.” Whether this was dry sarcasm or plausible deniability, Bharti’s comment only added fuel to the fire.
Pakistan, on the other hand, has remained conspicuously silent. No official statements, no press conferences, no denials — an unusual move for a country historically quick to highlight and condemn Indian military actions, especially ones that may threaten its strategic deterrent.
The most explosive allegation circulating in OSINT (open-source intelligence) communities is that the strike may have triggered a radioactive incident serious enough to require emergency international attention.
Lending weight to that theory is the documented flight of a U.S. Department of Energy aircraft — the Beechcraft B350 “Aerial Measuring System” (AMS), tail number N111SZ — over Pakistani airspace shortly after the alleged Indian attack. The B350 AMS is a highly specialized aircraft equipped with gamma-ray sensors and designed to detect, track, and map radioactive isotopes in real time.
Its primary mission? To rapidly respond to nuclear incidents anywhere in the world.
While neither Washington nor Islamabad acknowledged the overflight, aviation tracking logs confirm that the aircraft made a low-altitude pass over the region before disappearing from public tracking systems — a tell-tale sign of entering restricted airspace or switching to encrypted military flight protocols.
The presence of this aircraft, previously deployed during the Fukushima crisis and nuclear accident simulations in the U.S., has raised serious eyebrows among analysts. Why send such a specialized radiation-detection asset into Pakistani airspace unless something radiological had indeed occurred?
Just hours after the alleged strikes, another mysterious development added to the intrigue: an Egyptian Air Force Ilyushin IL-76 heavy transport aircraft, callsign EGY1916, was tracked landing at Bhurban Airstrip near Murree, Pakistan — a location known more for diplomatic retreats than military logistics.
The aircraft had previously departed from China and made a brief stop in Pakistan before continuing to the United Arab Emirates. Its cargo? Unconfirmed, but speculated by several OSINT sources to include boron compounds — chemical agents used to suppress neutron activity in the event of a radiation leak.
Boron-10, a neutron-absorbing isotope, is central to nuclear emergency protocols. It’s routinely used in nuclear reactor control rods and as a coolant additive. More crucially, boric acid solutions are deployed to contain and minimize radioactive dispersion — as they were after the Chernobyl and Fukushima disasters.
Could Pakistan have urgently requested chemical suppression agents to mitigate an unacknowledged nuclear incident?
Kirana Hills’ importance to Pakistan’s nuclear program goes beyond its legacy role in sub-critical tests. According to multiple defense analysts, the site remains an integral part of Pakistan’s deeply buried, highly protected nuclear weapons infrastructure — a place to store, develop, or test nuclear components far from prying eyes.
Situated in a remote yet geostrategically central location, surrounded by mountains and controlled military access routes, the area has long been guarded by Pakistan’s intelligence services, including ISI and Military Intelligence.
Add to that the site’s proximity to Sargodha — home to the 15th Strike Wing of Pakistan’s Air Force and nuclear-capable F-16 squadrons — and the picture becomes clearer. Kirana Hills is not just a relic of history. It’s a nerve node in Pakistan’s strategic matrix.
Only 20 kilometers southeast of Sargodha lies Noor Khan Airbase in Rawalpindi, adjacent to the headquarters of the Strategic Plans Division (SPD) — the apex body managing Pakistan’s nuclear forces.
The SPD was formed after Pakistan’s 1998 nuclear tests to institutionalize its deterrent strategy, manage warhead security, and formulate nuclear doctrine. Operating under the National Command Authority (NCA), which is chaired by the Prime Minister, SPD oversees both command-and-control systems and the survivability of nuclear assets.
A strike near or on these installations — even a symbolic one — would be interpreted by Pakistan as an attempted decapitation of its nuclear chain of command, a move traditionally considered a major escalation.
Perhaps the most puzzling development in the wake of these rumors was a sudden, largely unheralded ceasefire announcement by Pakistan just two days after the first OSINT claims began circulating.
No formal reasons were given. No public negotiations acknowledged. Just a quiet, unilateral de-escalation from a government otherwise known for fierce public posturing.
This timing has led many analysts to speculate that the ceasefire was either a face-saving maneuver following damage to sensitive assets — or the result of backchannel diplomacy triggered by the risk of radioactive fallout, international detection, or even third-party (possibly Chinese or U.S.) intervention.
The lack of official confirmation from either India or Pakistan could be strategic — both sides may be deliberately avoiding an open confrontation while recalibrating their postures behind closed doors.
India, under the leadership of Prime Minister Narendra Modi, has in recent years hardened its doctrine on cross-border terrorism and strategic response, including the controversial Balakot airstrike in 2019. The alleged Operation Sindoor, if real, would represent an order-of-magnitude escalation — targeting not just militants but nuclear infrastructure.
Pakistan, for its part, may be quietly managing internal fallout, quite literally. Admitting to a radiological leak or strategic vulnerability could weaken public confidence and invite international scrutiny.
Meanwhile, international agencies like the IAEA have issued no statements, and satellite imaging shared by private tracking firms shows no visible damage to key military facilities — though analysts note that underground strikes or electromagnetic disruption wouldn’t necessarily leave surface signatures.
At the intersection of nuclear opacity, digital surveillance, and psychological warfare, truth becomes elusive.
Whether the Kirana Hills incident was a real, limited strike kept under wraps, a disinformation campaign to test redlines, or a grossly exaggerated rumor gone viral, one thing is undeniable: South Asia’s nuclear flashpoints remain dangerously unpredictable.
As satellite images are parsed pixel by pixel, aircraft logs dissected by internet sleuths, and cryptic statements mined for hidden meanings, the world watches — not just for answers, but for warning signs of what might come next.
