WRITE-UPS

At 7 AM, in the biting cold of Zawoora, a young student stood at the bus stop, shifting his weight from one foot to another. His face was tense—not just from the morning chill but from a problem that had unsettled him since the night before. In his pocket was a single 500-rupee note, and he needed smaller denominations to pay for the two buses that would take him to university. The problem seemed trivial but carried real consequences. Bus conductors rarely accepted large bills, and in Kashmir, where digital transactions remain inconsistent, the availability of smaller notes can often dictate whether one reaches their destination on time. With uncertainty weighing on him, he climbed onto the back of a load-carrier and reached his next stop. The first challenge awaited him: finding cha...

Maliha Khan On a breezy February afternoon, as winter loosened its grip on the city, I found myself in conversation with Raju Mandal, a rickshaw puller from West Bengal. Raju was driving me to my apartment when we started talking about the approaching hot summer. "The summers are very difficult for those of us working outside. But what choice do we have? I have my wife and children to feed!" Raju said. A few days earlier, I had spoken to Manoj, a rickshaw puller in his late twenties, who shared similar sentiments about the sweltering summer. Explaining how his income is negatively impacted by the heat, he said, "Summers are very challenging, not just because of the unbearable heat, but also because we get very few customers. People prefer staying indoors or traveling in AC cars and ...

Anusha Imtiyaz Waking up in the crisp air of Kashmir, mornings at my house were my favorite. Treading lightly on the creaking wooden stairs, I would watch beams of early sunlight dance around with the Izbandh smoke. The house smelled sacred. Life was not easy, but there was a sense of stillness, a quiet repose at home. The only echoes to remember were of my mother’s Dhikr and prayers Some four years ago, I moved to Delhi for my undergraduate studies. I remember taking a few months to settle. Any Kashmiri who has left home would know this feeling of being pulled, torn, from two sides. The guilt of leaving behind the intimate familiarity of Kashmir, a place beyond its obvious appearance and traits. Where an unspeakable thread always tugs you to come back. Yet, we leave. For a wo...

Meer Irfan It was the month of December last year. Hundreds of farmers gathered clutching placards and raising slogans against the government’s move to acquire large tracts of agricultural land for the construction of "satellite" townships. Standing in the middle of his three-kanal saffron field was sixty-three-year-old Bashir Ahmad Dar from Chandhara. His family, like many in Pampore, has cultivated saffron for generations. Dar has already lost a portion of his land to the construction of the Semi Ring Road in 2022, and now, he fears the government will take whatever remains. “This land fed us, our parents, and our children. Now they want to turn it into concrete colonies,” Dar said, his voice shaking. “This is not about ecology or aesthetics anymore; this is about our livelihood...

Junaid Abdullah Known for its serenity, snowy mountains, and lush valleys of shepherds, Pahalgam was once home to fertile agricultural land that produced high-quality crops, vegetables, maize, paddy, walnuts, and apples. Pahalgam played a crucial role in maintaining ecological balance and was also a vital source of food production. However, due to rapid urbanisation, the landscape is now being replaced by concrete buildings, threatening the ecology. As construction accelerates, environmentalists and local farmers warn of long-term consequences, including pollution, ecological destruction, and threats to food security and wildlife. Over the past two years, farmland in the Pahalgam region has been shrinking as local and real estate developers purchase agricultural land and use it...

Danishwar Hameed  For more than a month, Kashmir was dry. The rivers had receded and the sky had remained an unrelenting shade of blue. But in the village of Panzath in south Kashmir, hope had not yet dried up. Nazir Ahmad Dar, a respected elder of the village, took it upon himself to revive a centuries-old tradition. As the drought persisted, he gathered the villagers for Niyaz, a religious offering of food, and Khairat, a collective charity. Hundreds of men, women, and children came together in the open fields, their hands raised in unison as they sought relief from the Almighty. The cries of supplication filled the valley. And then, as if in answer, the heavens finally opened.  "When our hearts move towards Allah, anything can happen," Nazir said, watching the rain soak the...

Suhail Dar/ Shah Hilal Javid Ahmed Khan, a resident of Sarnal Bala, visited Rani Bagh every evening. He had been coming here for decades, long before it was a public park, back when a historic building stood in its place—one that elders in Anantnag believed dated back to the Mughal era. Today, all that remained were benches, dust, and the silence of a forgotten past. "Tis was not just a park," Javid said, watching children play where the old structure once stood. "It was a piece of our history, but we dismantled it with our own hands." Despite being one of the first towns in the Valley, Anantnag lacked documented records of its architectural heritage. Oral histories suggested that the structure inside Rani Bagh was once a Mughal caravanserai or a military post, but there was...

Luqman Ahmed Language is more than just a means of communication; it carries history, culture, and identity within it. Growing up in Kashtwar (Kishtwar), a region nestled in the Chenab Valley, I spoke Kashmiri in a way that felt natural and familiar. It was only when I moved to Delhi in 2018 for my Bachelor’s degree that I realized how different some of the words I used were from those spoken in Kashmir. Also read: ‘Speaking Kashmiri wrongly associated with backwardness’: The social stigma silencing a language and the need for revival My interactions with Kashmiri students revealed something peculiar—many of the words I used were unheard of by them. They often pointed out my vocabulary, questioning whether certain words were even Kashmiri. This puzzled me. Had I been using words th...

Bhat Yasir Kashmir's Pir Panjal mountains, typically ablaze with snow at this time of year, present a haunting spectacle - largely bare and exposed, a stark departure from their usual winter splendor. The patches of white were scattered, struggling to hold onto the rugged slopes. From above, the lack of snow was glaring, a stark warning of the water crisis that experts have long feared. The Meteorological Department in Srinagar has recorded an 80% precipitation deficit this winter, marking one of the driest spells in recent memory. "February is usually a month of heavy snowfall, but this year, the mountains remain mostly bare. This will have severe consequences for our rivers, lakes, and overall water availability," said Mukhtar Ahmed, Director of MeT Srinagar. The Jhelum Ri...

Makhan Din's wife, Zona Begum, is four months pregnant and now faces an uncertain future with their two daughters, three-year-old Yasmin and one-year-old Saima Akhtar. The grief-stricken family struggles to come to terms with his sudden death. "He was the one who held our home together," Zona said, sobbing as she held her children close. "He worked day and night to feed us. Now, what will I tell my daughters? How will I raise them without him?" On February 5, 25-year-old Gujjar Bakarwal man, Makhan Din, who was a resident of Balawar in Kathua district, allegedly took his own life after what his family describes as “brutal police torture.” His death has sparked outrage, with political leaders demanding a fair investigation. Makhan Din's father, Muhammad Mureed, accused the police o...