I Ahmad Wani
The collapse of the high-stakes US-Iran peace negotiations in Islamabad on April 11-12, 2026, was more than a diplomatic setback. It was a stark reminder that in the new global disorder, great-power rivalries rarely resolve neatly—and smaller players with strategic foresight can still carve out decisive advantages. Mediated by Pakistan after a fragile two-week ceasefire brokered in the shadow of a six-week war that choked the Strait of Hormuz, the talks ended in mutual recrimination. No deal on Iran’s nuclear ambitions, sanctions relief, or permanent reopening of the world’s most critical energy artery. The ceasefire holds by a thread, oil markets are jittery again, and the world is left wondering who truly gained from the turmoil.
The answer, as any clear-eyed realist will admit, is Russia and China. Their gains are not abstract; they are measurable, immediate, and strategically transformative. For Moscow, the conflict has been nothing short of a fiscal miracle. Russian Urals crude, once trading at deep discounts under Western sanctions, has doubled in value since late February. Export revenues have surged by an estimated $8.5 billion a month, flooding the Kremlin’s war chest and easing the pressure of sustaining operations in Ukraine. Temporary US waivers on Russian oil sales to India and other buyers—granted precisely to prevent a global supply meltdown—allowed Moscow to ramp up volumes at premium prices. Every extra day of Hormuz uncertainty is another day of windfall profits for Vladimir Putin. Analysts in Moscow are already calling it “the best unintended gift from Washington since the Cold War.”
Beijing’s benefits are subtler but deeper. As the world’s largest oil importer, China absorbed short-term pain from higher prices, yet it has emerged geopolitically stronger. The crisis forced Washington to divert diplomatic bandwidth, military assets, and presidential attention away from the Indo-Pacific. Taiwan contingency planning, South China Sea patrols, and the Quad alliance all took a back seat while JD Vance shuttled to Islamabad. China’s quiet influence—exerted through its ironclad partnership with Pakistan and its role as Iran’s largest trading partner—positioned Beijing as the responsible adult in the room without firing a single shot. De-dollarization accelerated: Iran-China oil deals increasingly settled in yuan, chipping away at the petrodollar’s dominance. BRICS solidarity looked more credible than ever. For Xi Jinping, this was proof that multipolarity is not a slogan but a reality Washington can no longer ignore.
Pakistan, too, pocketed a rare diplomatic trophy. Hosting the first direct high-level US-Iran talks in decades burnished its credentials as a neutral broker. Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif and Army Chief Asim Munir were praised by both sides for the initial ceasefire. Even without a final agreement, Islamabad elevated its global stature and reinforced its value to Beijing.
And then there is India.
On the surface, the failed talks look like bad news for New Delhi. As the world’s third-largest oil importer, India imports nearly 85-90 percent of its crude, with over half traditionally routed through the Gulf and the Strait of Hormuz. The war-driven price spikes—Brent briefly kissing $110—have already widened the current account deficit, stoked inflation, and forced upward revisions in fuel and fertilizer costs. Remittances from nine million Indian workers in the Gulf, worth $40-50 billion annually, face uncertainty if tensions linger. Stock markets opened Monday with the familiar mix of volatility and risk aversion. Food inflation, already a political hot potato, could worsen if cooking gas (LPG) and urea supplies remain strained.
Yet this is precisely where a deeper, more optimistic reading of India’s strategic position emerges. Far from being a passive victim of distant events, India finds itself in an enviable spot—precisely because it refused to put all its eggs in one basket. The relationship with Russia, cultivated over decades and deepened under the Modi government’s strategic autonomy doctrine, has proven its worth once again. When Western sanctions and Gulf disruptions threatened supplies, India turned to Moscow. Russian crude now accounts for a significantly larger share of our basket, often at discounts that cushioned the blow. Temporary US waivers, ironically granted because of the very crisis New Delhi helped mitigate by buying Russian oil, further legitimized this pivot. In the short term, this partnership is covering the bulk of our incremental oil requirements without the political strings attached to Gulf or American supplies. Energy security is not charity; it is hard-nosed commerce, and Delhi has played the hand masterfully.
Even more intriguing—and underexplored in our domestic discourse—is the quiet role China may have played in easing India’s cooking gas headache. LPG imports, heavily dependent on Gulf refineries, faced acute pressure as Hormuz traffic slowed. Public reports and industry whispers suggest that Beijing, leveraging its massive petrochemical capacity and its influence over regional supply chains, facilitated alternative shipments and technical cooperation through back channels. Whether through direct bilateral understandings, SCO frameworks, or indirect routing via friendly third parties, the net effect has been to prevent outright shortages in Indian kitchens. This is not some grand alliance but pragmatic crisis management between two Asian giants who, despite border differences, share an interest in regional stability. In an op-ed moment like this, it is worth stating plainly: China’s self-interest in keeping global energy flows from total collapse indirectly helped India avoid a domestic political crisis over cooking gas cylinders. Multipolarity, it turns out, sometimes means unexpected convergences.
This brings us to the central argument: India could—and should—have played a far bigger role in these talks. Pakistan’s success as mediator was impressive, but it also highlighted Delhi’s relative absence from the high table. India possesses unmatched credentials: deep historical ties with Iran dating back to the Shah era, robust energy and defense partnerships with Russia, growing defense and technology cooperation with the United States, and enormous soft power across the Global South. We are the world’s largest democracy, the fastest-growing major economy, and the only major power with genuine strategic autonomy. Why, then, were we not in the room—or at least shuttling between capitals alongside Pakistan?
The answer lies partly in our own caution. Successive governments have prioritized bilateral deals over flashy multilateral mediation, wary of being dragged into great-power crossfire. Yet the Islamabad episode proves that neutrality can be a superpower. Imagine an Indian-brokered framework that leveraged our trusted relationships: assuring Tehran of sanctions relief in exchange for verifiable nuclear restraints, while offering Washington guarantees on Hormuz security and Israeli concerns. Such a role would not have required abandoning strategic partnerships; it would have amplified them. By stepping up, India could have shaped the outcome rather than merely managing the fallout. The fact that we did not is not a fatal flaw but a missed opportunity—and one we must correct in the next round, whenever it comes.
Strategically, India emerges from this turmoil stronger than the headlines suggest. Our diversified energy portfolio—Russian oil, Gulf LNG, domestic renewables push, and now potential Chinese supply-chain assistance—has blunted the worst shocks. The rupee has held better than feared. Our diplomatic space has widened: Washington still courts us as a counterweight to China, Moscow sees us as a reliable buyer, and Beijing recognizes that a stable India prevents total regional chaos. The failed talks underscore the fragility of US-centric order-making in Asia. In that vacuum, India’s multi-alignment doctrine looks less like fence-sitting and more like visionary statecraft.
Of course, risks remain. If the ceasefire collapses and Hormuz closes again, oil could spike toward $120, inflation could hit double digits, and growth projections for FY27 might slip below 6 percent. Remittance-dependent states like Kerala and Uttar Pradesh would feel the pinch. Yet even here, opportunity knocks. Higher prices accelerate our renewable transition and domestic exploration. They also reinforce the urgency of a national energy doctrine that treats Russia, the Gulf, and alternative suppliers as complementary, not competitive.
The real lesson of Islamabad is this: in a world of permanent turbulence, the nations that win are those that hedge intelligently, speak softly, and carry a diversified energy stick. Russia gained cash. China gained influence. Pakistan gained prestige. India, quietly and without fanfare, gained resilience. But resilience alone is not enough. The time has come for Delhi to move from strategic patience to strategic prominence. The next time great powers need a bridge between adversaries, India must not wait for an invitation—it must build the table itself.
We have the relationships. We have the leverage. What we need now is the will to use them. The failed talks in Islamabad are not the end of the story. They are the opening chapter in India’s opportunity to rewrite the rules of 21st-century geopolitics—from the Gulf to the Indo-Pacific and beyond.
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With Russia profiting hugely and China rising in influence after failed Islamabad talks, India showed strength through Russian oil ties and quiet Chinese help on cooking gas. Now Delhi must build the table instead of waiting for an invitation.
