The film opens with breathtaking aerial shots of the Kashmir Valley — serene yet shadowed by a lingering tension. The story quickly turns dark as a small boy disappears from a quiet village near Baramulla under mysterious circumstances. Rumors spread that this isn’t an isolated case — several children have vanished without a trace over the past few months, leaving behind only a white tulip at the scene. DSP Ridwaan Sayyed (played by Manav Kaul), a dedicated but emotionally scarred police officer, is transferred to Baramulla to investigate these disappearances. Ridwaan is accompanied by his wife Gulnaar (Bhasha Sumbli) and their young daughter. Though his wife is excited about the move and the beauty of their new home — an old colonial-era bungalow — Ridwaan feels uneasy from the start. The locals warn him that the house is cursed, tied to a tragic past that no one dares to speak of. Soon after settling in, strange things begin to happen. Their daughter starts talking to an unseen “friend.” Objects move on their own. At night, Gulnaar hears faint whispers and children crying in the hallways. While Ridwaan initially dismisses these as illusions caused by stress, his investigations into the missing children begin to reveal disturbing patterns that connect the hauntings to real events. Ridwaan learns that decades ago, during the height of insurgency in the valley, a Kashmiri Pandit family — the Saprus — was brutally attacked in the very house they now live in. Only their young daughter survived for a few days before disappearing as well. The locals believe her spirit still roams the place, seeking justice or redemption. As Ridwaan digs deeper, he discovers that each disappearance is linked to families who were involved — directly or indirectly — in that old tragedy. His rational mind struggles to explain the evidence: children claim to see a girl in white leading them into the woods, CCTV footage shows fleeting shadows, and forensic reports fail to make sense of the clues. At the same time, Ridwaan’s personal life begins to unravel. Gulnaar becomes increasingly disturbed by the paranormal events in the house. She starts sensing a connection between their daughter and the ghost of the missing girl. In one chilling sequence, Gulnaar finds her daughter sleepwalking toward the lake in the middle of the night, whispering the name “Rupa.” Ridwaan tries to stay logical, but the pressure mounts when another boy disappears — this time the son of a local politician. The community turns against him, accusing him of incompetence. As fear and political tension rise, Ridwaan realizes that the truth lies beyond the realm of the physical world. He seeks help from an old historian, Professor Niyaz (Raj Zutshi), who explains the deeper symbolism of the recurring tulips — white tulips were planted by the Saprus in their garden and became symbols of innocence lost. According to Niyaz, the unrest in Baramulla isn’t only political — it’s spiritual, a curse born from guilt and bloodshed that was never acknowledged. The story takes a turn when Gulnaar finds an old diary belonging to the Sapru family’s daughter, Rupa. Through the diary, they learn that the child’s spirit never sought revenge — she only wanted someone to remember her story. The disappearances, it turns out, aren’t acts of evil but manifestations of pain — the valley’s collective sorrow made real. The children who vanish are drawn toward her, not harmed, but protected from the violence that still haunts the land. In the film’s emotional climax, Ridwaan and Gulnaar confront the spirit in their home. During a powerful and haunting sequence, their daughter becomes possessed by Rupa’s voice, pleading for her story to be told. Ridwaan, finally understanding, performs a symbolic act of remembrance — planting white tulips in the ruins of the old Sapru home. This act breaks the cycle. The missing children begin to return, found near the old site unharmed, as though awakened from a trance. The valley, too, seems to breathe easier — the fog lifts, the whispers fade, and the curse is lifted, not through exorcism or force, but through empathy and acknowledgment of buried pain. The film closes with Ridwaan narrating in voiceover that “sometimes ghosts don’t haunt to scare us — they haunt so we remember.” In the final scene, he and Gulnaar stand by the tulip field, holding their daughter’s hand, as a faint figure of Rupa smiles in the distance before dissolving into the morning mist. Themes and Meaning Baramulla isn’t a typical horror movie filled with jump scares. Instead, it uses supernatural elements to reflect the real emotional and historical ghosts of Kashmir — loss, exile, and unhealed trauma. The spirit of Rupa represents the silenced voices of many who suffered in the valley’s decades-long conflict. Through Ridwaan’s journey, the film questions whether peace can exist without remembrance — suggesting that healing comes only when the truth is faced, not buried. The haunting atmosphere, eerie music, and moody cinematography turn the valley itself into a character — beautiful, mysterious, and wounded. The ending is bittersweet but hopeful, portraying redemption through compassion and acceptance rather than revenge.