All language subtitles for Global.Eye.S2025E06.1080p.iP.WEB-DL.AAC2.0.H.264-HiNGS_track3_[eng]

Hello, and welcome to Global Eye
from the BBC World Service.

I'm Divya Arya reporting
for the BBC from India,

joining you from
Indian-administered Kashmir,

a region known for
its outstanding natural beauty,

but where dozens
were killed on both sides

when the country came
to the brink of a full-blown war

with its neighbour Pakistan
a few months ago.

A truce was eventually brokered,
but the hostilities stayed,

seeping now onto the cricket pitch.

I'll explain how.

BBC Eye investigates
the Indian pharma firm

that has been fuelling
West Africa's opioid crisis.

And we'll hear from
Nobel Prize winner Malala Yousafzai

about her fight for girls' rights
around the world.

It's about advocating
for a safer future for children.

It's about every girl
having the right to school.

I was born in India,

and I've grown up listening
to passionate accounts of love

and hate with our neighbour Pakistan.

Both countries were one
to begin with,

with a shared language, food,
culture, and tradition.

But in 1947, when the struggle
for independence was at its peak

and Britain had to agree to end
its 150-year long colonial rule,

it divided the country.

Unable to contain
religious tensions,

it carved out Muslim-majority areas
out of India

into a new country called Pakistan,

leaving Hindu-majority areas
in India.

It was a bloody partition.

Polarised by religion,
neighbour turned on neighbour,

and brutal atrocities
were committed.

An estimated 1 million died.

In one of the largest mass
migrations in the world's history,

15 million were displaced,
as many Muslims fled to Pakistan

and Hindus and Sikhs
headed in the opposite direction.

But it didn't end there.

This is the Hazratbal Shrine,

a sacred Muslim landmark and mosque,

and a revered pilgrimage site
for thousands of people each year.

Kashmir is the only
Muslim-majority region

that lies within India, and remains
contested between the two countries.

Both sides administer it in part,
but claim it in full.

Though pilgrims and tourists
both flock to Kashmir,

it remains one of the most
militarised zones in the world.

It's hard to miss the presence
of security forces here

that India says are necessary,

as it accuses Pakistan
of backing militants

in Indian-administered Kashmir,
a charge its neighbour denies.

Over almost eight decades,

there have been numerous bursts
of fighting,

tens of thousands of deaths.

But there has never been
an agreed border in Kashmir.

India and Pakistan
have fought two wars

over this Himalayan region,
and after years of relative calm

came to the brink of another
just a few months ago.

In April 2025,
militants killed 26 people

in an attack on tourists
in the resort town of Pahalgam,

50 miles east of here.

The area where the attack happened
remains closed off

by security forces.

It was the deadliest attack
on civilians in two decades.

Filmed by unsuspecting tourists
taking selfies and videos,

it enraged people,

and tensions flared amongst
the nuclear-armed neighbours.

India blamed the attack on Pakistan

and responded with air strikes two
weeks later in what it said

was a bid to dismantle
insurgent strongholds

in Pakistan-administered Kashmir
and Pakistan itself.

Pakistan denied any role,

and retaliated with missiles,
drones, and fighter jets.

Airports and train stations
were shut,

and journalists like me
had to make our way from Delhi

over 18-hour-long road journeys

to get to Srinagar here
and to border areas.

We were carrying our flak jackets
and helmets with us,

but this clash was different.

This was the first
time high-tech jets,

missiles, and drones
were being used.

The administration would impose
blackouts at night,

and we would spend hours hiding,

listening to the sound of shelling

and mortar bursts around
and above us.

I met many
who have been repeatedly caught up

in the deadly attacks between
India and Pakistan

in this region over the decades,

losing family, friends, and homes
in the flare-ups.

And one story that really broke
my heart was of 12-year-old twins,

whose family had recently moved
to live closer

to their school in a border town.

But that area was targeted
by shelling,

and as they tried to flee,
the children were killed.

A truce was reached
between the two countries.

Life has limped back to normal here,

a region which has seen many
flare-ups over the years.

But tourism,
the mainstay of Kashmir's economy,

has been badly hit.

The confrontation between
the two countries was even felt

on the cricket pitch
when India and Pakistan

faced each other at the Asia Cup
in September.

India's cricketers refused
to shake hands with Pakistan

in that first tournament
since the conflict.

No handshake at the time of toss
between the captains either.

The strained politics between
the countries has meant

that matches between the
cricket-crazy countries

are organised in neutral locations
and are highly charged spectacles.

So this was not unexpected,
but it marked a new low.

There were gestures
made on the field...

THEY SPEAK OVER EACH OTHER

..words spoken at
post-match press conferences.

And after India defeated Pakistan
in a cliff-hanger final match,

it refused to accept the winner's
trophy from Asian Cricket Council

president who is also the chairman
of the Pakistan Cricket Board.

Opinions on cricket, though,
remain divided.

While some feel a symbolic point
needed to be scored,

others feel that politics
should not negate sporting spirit.

For those living here in Kashmir,

it was an unsettling reminder of
the volatile relationship

between two nuclear-armed neighbours,

and the cost any flare-up
could have on their lives.

Now, a few months ago,
the BBC Eye team went undercover

to expose a Mumbai-based
pharmaceutical company

manufacturing unlicensed
addictive opioids

and exporting them illegally
to West Africa,

where they have been driving
a major public health crisis.

Here's more from Surabhi Tandon.

Illegal, addictive opioids are
flooding the streets of West Africa,

destroying thousands of lives
and fuelling a public health crisis.

It's happening in Cote d'Ivoire,

in Ghana, in Nigeria.

But where are these pills
coming from?

How are they getting into
West Africa?

I think this is wickedness.

And who are the people
making a killing from them?

I'm on my way to the Nigerian Drugs
Enforcement Agency, the NDLEA.

Their checkpoints have become
a common sight

on the streets of Lagos.

in 2023, they seized opioids

worth more than US$100 million.

This here, all this is
225 tramadol. Which is illegal?

Which is illegal.

Tramadol is a catch-all name

to describe the range of opioids
used as street drugs.

It's estimated
more than 4 million people

in Nigeria are misusing
some form of opioid.

We're having a problem
coming in from another country.

It has become a big menace
in Nigeria.

And which country is that?
India.

In 2018,
the government banned the sale

of tramadol without prescription
and cracked down on

the import of illegal opioids.

Since then, more and more are
being smuggled across the borders.

This shipment came in through Ghana,
through the borders.

They had been tracking him
for five months.

Would you say that the route
between Ghana and Nigeria

is becoming more popular
in the last year or so?

Definitely, it is.

Tamale in northern Ghana
has been hit hard

by a recent rise in opioid use.

Journalist Yahaya Masahudu
grew up here.

These drugs are destroying families,

destroying young men and women
with potential

who otherwise would have been able
to help in developing this country.

It's got so bad, locals have set
up their own task force

to track down the opioid dealers.

A tip-off has led them to one of the
poorest neighbourhoods in Tamale.

They'll be raiding the place to see
if they can get some of the drugs.

What is happening right now is

the task force is here
to arrest the drug dealers.

RAISED VOICES

This is what they found here
with just one raid.

Yeah. This is what happens
almost on a daily basis.

These opioids are highly addictive.

Some take them as painkillers

or to help them get through
hard physical work.

But many use them
simply to get high.

They can cause breathing problems
and seizures.

Overdosing can kill.

The man in yellow
is just a small-time dealer.

But who is at the top of this chain?

These packets are all we have
to go on.

But they do offer some clues.

Hi, Surabhi.
Hi, Yahaya. Good to see you.

Did you get the photos I sent to you
from the raid

the task force did the other day?

Yeah, I have them pulled up
on my computer now.

The product is called Tafrodol.

The Ghanaian FDA
have confirmed to me

the product is illegal in Ghana.

Then I can also see
that it says "made in India".

And if I zoom into the corner,

there's a logo with an A and a leaf.

It's important to look into that
and to find out

who is responsible for bringing
the product into West Africa.

The task force is trying to catch
the traders and smugglers,

but it's the source
that needs to be stopped.

So let me start there,

and I'll get back to you
when I have more information.

We know the drugs are made in India.

Now we need to find out
who is making them.

When I put Tafrodol
into a search engine,

the top result shows that
the brand name Tafrodol

is registered to a company
called Aveo Pharmaceuticals.

When I look
for Aveo Pharmaceuticals...

..their official website shows up,

which actually details their products
and manufacturing practices.

It looks like a legitimate company,

but it's the logo
that really catches my attention.

I found teenagers in Cote d'Ivoire

are mixing Tafrodol with
an alcoholic drink called Vody.

And there it is, the same logo.

Aveo Pharmaceuticals.

It's not just Cote d'Ivoire.

Even in Ghana, I found reports of
Tafrodol being seized by the police.

When I zoom in, there is an A
which looks like the A from Aveo.

In the same seizure
is another product, Tima King.

In the corner of that box,
the same logo, Aveo Pharmaceuticals.

We also sent out researchers
in Nigeria

to see if they could find products
with the Aveo logo on them.

And sure enough, they came back
to us with Tafrodol-XX.

We know the name of the company.

Now we need to find
the people at the top.

An undercover operative agreed to go
to Aveo's factory

posing as a businessman looking to
supply opioids to Nigeria.

This is one of the directors of Aveo

and the boss of this factory,
Vinod Sharma.

He takes them
on a tour of the factory.

Back at Sharma's office,
it's time to talk business.

The packet of Tafrodol
is instantly recognisable.

It's the same brand found
on the streets in Ghana

and Cote d'Ivoire.

This is Super Royal.

It looks just like the drugs
found in Lagos.

This is TimaKing -

the same product seized
by the Ghanaian police in 2024.

Vinod Sharma displays
many more products

that look remarkably similar
to those found

by authorities across West Africa.

Sharma doesn't flinch
when the team tells him

who they're planning to sell
the opioids to.

Catching market. Slowly, slowly.

In India, any drug made
only for export must comply with

the requirements of the
importing country.

Ghana's drug authorities told us
this product doesn't meet

the import requirements.

By shipping Tafrodol to Ghana,
Aveo is breaking Indian law.

Now we know who's making the drug,
but how is it getting into Ghana?

Oh, this is it.

You can see Samospharma waiting.

We found evidence that
a company in the capital,

Accra, has handled millions
of the pills.

I'm not very sure that these guys
are going to be friendly

and whether they will allow us
to film.

This is the evidence
that led us to Samospharma -

export data showing that Samos has
imported millions of opioid pills

from India through Ghanaian ports
by a company called

Westfin International.

Looking into Westfin,
we found the board of directors,

among them a familiar name...

..Vinod Sharma.

In Tamale, it's left for groups
like the Citizens Task Force

to tackle the opioid crisis.

More of Vinod Sharma's Tafrodol.

That evening, they gather
in a local park to burn the drugs.

This task force,
in one small corner of West Africa,

is doing all they can.

But as these drugs burn,

production lines in India
are churning out millions more.

And the people who make them
are getting rich

on the profits of
other people's misery.

Since we first broadcast
that report,

the Indian government
has banned the sale and production

of those two opioids in combination,

and the government of Ghana
has launched an investigation

into the opioid crisis
in the country.

Now, a few hundred miles from here
is the city of Kabul,

in Afghanistan,
where in recent days,

the BBC's Afghan Service
has been trying

to find ways to continue to reach
its audiences in the country

after a 48-hour internet blackout
by the Taliban government

cut the country off
from the rest of the world.

The United Nations Mission
in Afghanistan said

it was particularly worried
about the effect of the outage

on women and girls, who are already
very isolated in the country.

Here's Sadaf Ghayasi
from the BBC's Afghan Service

to explain how their teams
continue to reach their audiences

in desperate need.

BBC Radio is the only radio
for now in Afghanistan

because the other radio stations
are banned by the Taliban.

So no back anno?
No goodbye.

I'm doing bulletins
and also phone-in programmes.

The situation was quite tense,

not only for those living inside
Afghanistan,

even for us,
as the team working on that day.

We were all affected.

We were all emotionally attached.

That was the moment that
we got the idea that after this,

that we are running
our phone-in programme,

so let's just be the bridge
as they are calling on us.

I just had a look around.

Everybody was crying around me.

The way they were trying to deliver
their messages, it was...

They were reminding me of my parents
living inside the country.

I was not able to deliver
my message either.

So I was seeing myself,
I was feeling them.

But as BBC says, audiences first.

So for me, it was really important
to be the bridge

and convey their messages.

So, yeah, I would describe it
tough and emotional.

She's now one of the most
famous human rights campaigners

in the world,
a woman who experienced the brutality

of the Taliban first-hand
when she was shot

in the head in Pakistan
as an 11-year-old schoolgirl.

Almost a decade on,

and Malala Yousafzai's
Foundation now is

a global force
for the rights of girls -

most recently working in Nigeria,
where, in some states,

more than half of the girls
are not in school.

Madina Maishanu sat down with Malala
in the capital, Abuja.

You've recently written a new book
which is yet to be released.

It's called Finding My Way,

and that title just seems
very personal.

What does it mean to you?

Yes, this is the most personal
reflections

I have ever shared before.

And I was still in an induced coma

in a hospital when the world
was defining me as this brave,

courageous young activist.

But I was still 15 years old
and I did not know who I was.

So I have openly shared
about my life since then.

I talk about my school years,
which were lonely.

I talk about my college life,

where I decided to become
more of a reckless student.

I talk about friendships
and love life, and at the same time,

mental health, because that is
something that affected me

many, many years later
after the attack.

Would you say that subsequently
fame also impacted your childhood?

I think it was a bit of everything.

At 15, when I was recovered
from the attack,

I started school in the UK,
in a completely new country.

I actually really struggled
to make friends.

By the end of my school time,
I just had made one friend.

So when I was
about to join university,

I had one mission,

and that was to make
as many friends as I could,

because friends also help you
grow as a person.

It is part of the emotional growth,
from handling essay crisis

to just have moments of laughter,
to also being there with each other

when we have gone through
tough moments.

Why did you struggle
to make friends?

Was it the fame?

I think it's because people think
that they know you.

They have heard about you on TV,

so they have this fixed image
of you,

and it was this gap of
having a normal conversation

that I couldn't get, because,
like in Pakistan, of course,

I was, you know, a normal girl.

I was mischievous sometimes.
I had a lot of friends.

I loved to talk about anything.

And what I wanted was that
you can be an activist,

but you could also be yourself.

So would you personally
consider yourself

as an activist or a politician?

MALALA CHUCKLES

I think for me, like,
it's about advocating

for a safer future for children.

It's about every girl
having the right to school,

and that is the mission of my life.

But if you look at the world, and
if there's, like, a war going on,

if there is conflict,
if there's a genocide going on,

like, millions of children
lose their future,

and we cannot look away from that.

The change that we want to bring
will not become a reality

if we look away
from the catastrophe,

from the disasters
that are happening right now.

Everything you've been through,
your journey,

when you were shot,
and the Malala of today,

do you think it's all worth it?

This is a, you know, like, a tough
question to address because...

I usually would say that, you know,
I wish I was in the old life.

I wish, you know, I could have
continued my life in Pakistan.

But when I think about
how things took a turn,

and now that I'm able to lead
a movement for girls' education,

and we are able to work together
with incredible partners,

like here in Nigeria, you know,
whatever the circumstances,

this pathway is rewarding,
and I do not want to look back.

I do not want to change it
for a second,

because of the change that today
we can make for girls.

Thank you so much, Malala.
Thank you.

Thanks for joining me in Kashmir.

We want to hear your feedback
about Global Eye,

so let us know on social media.

Next week, we'll be reporting
from Lebanon.

Goodbye.