Breaking News Car Bomb in India

On November 20, 2025, the heart of New Delhi froze in terror. At 9:17 a.m., as tourists streamed toward the majestic Red Fort—a sandstone symbol of India's storied past—a white van detonated in a blinding fireball just outside the Lahore Gate. The blast ripped through morning crowds, hurling bodies like ragdolls, shattering centuries-old walls, and turning the air thick with acrid smoke and screams.

Priya Sharma, a 28-year-old history teacher from Mumbai, had come to show her students the fort's grandeur. She was posing for a photo when the world exploded. Shrapnel tore into her leg; blood pooled beneath her as she crawled toward a wailing child separated from his mother. "Stay with me," she gasped, pressing her scarf against his wounds, her own vision blurring.

Across the chaos, veteran journalist Arjun Mehta live-streamed from the scene, his voice cracking as he described twisted metal and severed limbs. "This is not just an attack on stone," he shouted into his phone, "it's an assault on our soul!"

By noon, the toll was grim: 13 dead, including two foreign tourists, and over 35 injured. The National Investigation Agency swarmed the site, unearthing fragments of a sophisticated IED laced with ball bearings—designed for maximum carnage. Whispers of a banned Islamist outfit surfaced, but no group claimed responsibility yet.

In Patna, far from the carnage, Nitish Kumar was sworn in as Bihar's Chief Minister for a record 10th time, waving to cheering crowds. Yet even there, the Delhi blast dominated conversations, a stark reminder of fragility amid political triumphs.

As evening fell over the smoldering capital, Priya lay in a hospital bed, clutching the hand of the boy she'd saved. Prime Minister Modi vowed justice, flags flew at half-mast, and Delhi's resilient spirit flickered amid the rubble. In a nation no stranger to scars, the Red Fort stood bloodied but unbroken—whispering that history endures, even when terror tries to rewrite it.