A Diplomatic U-Turn: What India's Return to Kabul Really Means

Digital Desk

Look at a map. See Afghanistan, perched atop the subcontinent, and you’ll understand why Delhi’s foreign policy establishment has lost sleep over it for decades. It is the gateway to Central Asia, a historical friend, and a potential launching pad for threats India can ill-afford.

This is why India’s recent decision to officially return to Kabul, upgrading its mission to a full embassy under the Taliban, is so significant. It is not a victory; it is a painful, pragmatic, and necessary surrender to a new reality.

This diplomatic U-turn is a masterclass in realpolitik, but one that leaves the textbook on principled foreign policy gathering dust. For two decades, India was one of the biggest supporters of the democratic Islamic Republic of Afghanistan, investing over $3 billion in dams, roads, schools, and the iconic Afghan Parliament building. We were the "friend of Afghans," a benevolent regional power standing in stark opposition to the Taliban, whom we saw rightly as a medieval, Pakistan-backed threat. Our refusal to engage with them after their 2021 takeover was a moral stance.

So, what changed? China. Pakistan. Russia. And the Islamic State-Khorasan (ISIS-K). While we held the moral high ground, our geopolitical rivals and adversaries were busy carving out influence. China is finalizing mining deals and extending the Belt and Road Initiative into Afghanistan. Pakistan, despite its "iron-brother" rhetoric, has its own fraught relationship with the Taliban. Russia is hosting them in Moscow. To cede this space entirely was a risk India could no longer take. The brutal attack on our mission in 2022, allegedly by ISIS-K, was a stark reminder that a security vacuum in Afghanistan directly threatens Indian lives and interests.

The proponents of this move will call it a masterstroke. They will argue that having boots on the ground—or at least, diplomats on the ground—is essential to counterterrorism intelligence, to protect our past investments, and to ensure we have a seat at the table when the future of Central Asia is being decided. They are not wrong. This is a cold, hard calculation of national interest.

But at what cost?

We are now formally engaging with a regime that has issued arrest warrants for its own female activists, a regime that has barred girls from education beyond the sixth grade, effectively erasing women from public life. The Taliban of 2025 is the same as the Taliban of 2001; they have merely learned the language of diplomacy while sharpening the tools of oppression. By upgrading our mission, we are granting them a sliver of the legitimacy they crave, and in doing so, we are quietly abandoning the millions of Afghans, especially women, who saw India as a beacon of hope.

So, we are left with an uncomfortable question, one that defines modern statecraft: Should national interest ever override standing up for fundamental human rights? India’s answer, for now, is a reluctant "yes." This is not the idealistic, aspiring global leader of the past. This is a pragmatic regional power, choosing to play a messy game on a dangerous chessboard.

The return to Kabul is a necessary evil, a deal with the devil for a sliver of strategic security. But as our flag rises over the embassy in Kabul, we must not look away from the shadows it casts. We have gained a listening post. We may have lost a piece of our soul.