At first glance, the story looks familiar: non‑official meetings in neutral locations, Western officials in attendance, and a flurry of media speculation about “Track 2 diplomacy” easing tensions between the two nuclear‑armed neighbours.

Gupta’s assessment is blunt: most of what has appeared in the media is, in his view, a Pakistani disinformation campaign designed to project the existence of a back channel that does not, in fact, exist.

Two meetings did take place, one in Colombo and another in Bangkok, but crucially, “there was presence of no serving Indian official” in either. Retired Indian intelligence and foreign service officers and a former army chief did attend, but they were speaking in their personal capacity, not carrying messages from New Delhi.

The Pakistani contingent looked very different.

It included:

This raises, in his view, an obvious question. What exactly were US and UK officials doing in a dialogue focused on a Gulf war agenda but containing three India–Pakistan modules: water, escalation of tensions and crisis management?

A second meeting in Bangkok gathered four Indians: two strategic writers known for their Western orientation, and two former PIA‑desk officials who had served as ambassadors to Pakistan. This dialogue was funded by Ottawa University, a fact Gupta finds puzzling: “one can’t understand why would Ottawa University be interested in India–Pakistan relations.”

Both meetings were labelled “Track 1.5” or “Track 2” in some reporting, but Gupta insists this is misleading. There was no official Indian presence. The retired participants “were just espousing their own views” and “definitely do not have any access to what is currently going on in the government”. Under normal Chatham House rules, such discussions remain confidential. Yet, this time, the details leaked, fuelling speculation that Islamabad was eager to sell the impression of a functioning back channel.

As Gupta summarises it, “as far as India goes, India has nothing to do with these dialogues,” and the government’s policy line remains untouched by what is, at best, an informal talking shop accompanied by “some good food and some good wine”.

Since then, Pakistan has sought to build an international narrative that India is “weaponising water” against it. The country believes it has gained fresh credibility in international forums after trying to broker understandings between Iran and the US amid the ongoing Gulf war.

Gupta points out that US President Donald Trump has repeatedly spoken of Pakistan’s army chief, Field Marshal Asim Munir, as a close friend-reinforcing Islamabad’s perception that “it has the West on its side.”

In this context, Pakistan is trying to “ratchet international pressure on India” so that New Delhi reverses its abeyance of the treaty. More striking, however, is the doctrinal twist Pakistan appears to be exploring:

Under the 1949 Geneva Conventions, warring states are not supposed to target each other’s critical civilian infrastructure, including dams. Pakistan is now arguing that since India is allegedly weaponising water by suspending the treaty, it is within its rights to attack Indian dams in a worst‑case scenario. This reframing, Gupta warns, turns the Indus Waters Treaty into “the new flashpoint”.

Once, Kashmir was the primary contested zone; now, the treaty is being positioned as a fresh locus of confrontation and a vehicle to internationalise Kashmir by linking river rights to territorial disputes.

This pattern, he argues, has repeated itself:

The current government, he says, has tried to break with this tradition. Since coming to power in 2014, Prime Minister Narendra Modi has articulated two clear lines:

“Terror and talks can’t go together.”

“Terror and water also do not go together.”

India’s position is that normalisation is possible only if Pakistan stops using terror — or “Jihad” — as an instrument against India. Until then, the abeyance of the IWT and the broader hardening of India’s stance will continue.

Gupta’s answer is unequivocal. Pakistan “cannot afford to go to war against India” and would “lose very badly” if it tried. He lists Pakistan’s internal and external constraints:

The Pakistan–Afghanistan border is “on fire,” with recent Pakistani operations provoking Afghan retaliation. There is a full‑fledged insurgency in Balochistan, which prevents the effective operation of the Gwadar port. Pakistan faces unrest in Sindh and an active Pakistani Taliban threat in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa.

In Gupta’s reading, Pakistan “can’t even afford to take on the Taliban in Kabul, let alone go to war with India.” That makes its rhetoric about bombing Indian dams more a tool of pressure and narrative‑building than a credible war strategy. The real solution, he insists, “clearly lies in only one thing: stop terrorism, start talking.”

Yet, as Gupta stresses, none of this alters New Delhi’s core red line: No official back channel is running with Pakistan. The Government of India has “no role” in the recent dialogues. Normalisation remains contingent on Pakistan abandoning terrorism as statecraft.

For now, the Indus river has joined Kashmir as a central pressure point in a relationship defined by asymmetrical risks, competing narratives and a narrowing space for compromise.

Whether quiet conversations in Colombo or Bangkok ever evolve into something more substantive will depend less on Western facilitation and more on whether Islamabad is willing to address the “fundamental issue behind militancy” that Gupta repeatedly returns to: the use of terror and jihad as instruments of policy.