No space to belong: The quiet crisis of public space in urban Kashmir

Maliha Khan

In recent years, urban planning in Srinagar has taken on a new label — ‘Smart City’. Although calling it planning might be generous. Planning implies consultation, deliberation, and foresight about what a city and its residents need. What we’re seeing instead is urban aesthetics being imported without fully understanding or considering the region’s local context, environment, or social fabric.

Professor Jan Haenraets, a landscape architect and specialist in historic preservation at Boston University, recently pointed out the disconnect between the Smart City projects and Srinagar’s landscape needs. Calling the project a failure, he noted that the developments proposed and implemented under the Smart City initiative were designed by consultants based outside Kashmir, many of whom have little to no familiarity with the region. As a result, the designs lack specificity and sensitivity to the region.

According to Professor Haenraets, these developments resemble “interior design, but outside” — superficial beautification with “some benches and flowers you can find anywhere.” Meanwhile, the real and pressing needs of urban design in the Old City and downtown Srinagar are being ignored.

The Jammu Kashmir administration describes a smart city as “a city where information technology is the principal infrastructure and the basis for providing essential services to residents” (Srinagar NIC). While the emphasis on essential services may sound promising, it is worth asking whether the changes unfolding truly address the city’s most pressing needs.

Widening paths for cycles in a city where most of the population does not cycle, or cutting down trees rampantly at a time when the local climate hangs by a thread, do not seem like “essential services.” Urban planning requires sustainable resource management and localized development that is in harmony with the natural environment and responsive to the local population’s needs.

Instead, the developments under Smart City seem to defy their purpose. The local landscape is being turned into a tourist attraction — “green surfaces are being covered with concrete and stone pavements… and trees are being damaged and cut in the process.” (Kashmir Observer)

While the recent changes brought by the Smart City project have raised concerns among the general population about urban planning, the disconnect between urban design and residents’ lives has much deeper roots.

Growing Up Without a Commons

Growing up in Srinagar, I felt a sense of isolation due to the way the city was designed. Having heard my mother talk about her childhood — afternoons spent running down hills and playing with neighborhood kids near the village stream — I too yearned for that kind of freedom: for open spaces, for spontaneous socialization, for a sense of belonging.

Spending weekends or summers in my mother’s village offered glimpses of this connection. Yet even there, things were changing. Walls began to creep up around once-shared spaces. Streams dried up. The shift wasn’t just urban — it was systemic. There was a basic disconnect between how our spaces are designed and the human need for connection.

As I began interviewing residents—both young and old—I found that this sense of disconnect wasn’t just my own. A recurring theme that emerged was the absence of accessible and inclusive public spaces.

Huzaifa, a 22-year-old woman who lives in a residential colony in Hyderpora, Srinagar, reflects on her childhood with quiet frustration. Growing up, she had almost no access to any public space where she could meet or play with kids her age. Unlike now, where she can visit friends’ homes or occasionally go to cafés, she was mostly confined to her house as a child. “If I wanted to go to a park,” she said, “I’d need to go with an adult, take some kind of transport, and travel for at least thirty minutes.”

For Huzaifa and numerous other children raised in Srinagar, public parks weren’t just inaccessible — they were distant, occasional luxuries. What Huzaifa wanted then — and still wishes existed — are parks or free spaces within walking distance, allowing her to socialize and form friendships organically.

Huzaifa notes that this isolation was exacerbated due to her gender. Being a girl, she faced additional restrictions on where to go and who to socialize with. She said, “Often the boys in the neighborhood would play football in the empty plots or just hang out at the local shops and kandur (baker), but as a girl, these spaces were not welcoming for me… I barely saw girls my age playing outside.”

Isolation and the Loss of Everyday Community

Huzaifa’s story points to the structural flaw in how Kashmir’s residential colonies are designed, making it nearly impossible to socialize organically. They consist of large chunks of private land sold to individuals for purely residential purposes, leading to rows of isolated houses hidden behind tall walls. There are no parks, no common spaces — just concrete lanes and closed gates.

Tahira, a 55-year-old woman who moved to Srinagar after growing up in a village in Anantnag, describes life in the city as isolating, especially since moving to a residential colony. Recalling her childhood, she described the common courtyards (aangun) in her village, with little to no demarcations, allowing neighbors to freely socialize.

“All of us — women and children — would gather in the evenings and spend time with each other… I have not experienced anything like this in the last few decades,” she said. The only way she can socialize now is at work or by visiting her friends and neighbors at their homes.

While Tahira finds her “third space” at work and sometimes in small outings, she pointed out that women her age who are not employed or are retired are left with little to no options to socialize. Emphasizing the lack of common space in her community, she said, “It would be nice to have a park to go for evening walks with the neighborhood ladies.”

Third Spaces and the Rise of Café Culture

Anisa, a 35-year-old woman, looking back at her college days in Srinagar, recalled how she had a vibrant social circle within her college, but when it came to her immediate neighbors in her residential colony, she barely felt a sense of community. As Anisa went on to pursue her master’s, she began to notice a shift — cafés were beginning to pop up around the city, and platforms like Facebook and Instagram had started gaining popularity.

For the younger generation especially, these new spaces — both physical and digital — offered alternative ways to connect. “These cafés and apps brought people together in new ways,” she reflected, “but that organic connection — one that comes from bumping into your neighbor at the park or watching kids play together — that kind of community never developed. Not for us and not for my children’s generation.”

As reflected in Anisa’s observations, cafés have emerged as the new “third space” for the younger generation. These places offer an alternative space to socialize, study, meet friends, or simply exist outside the confines of home.

Mahreen, a 29-year-old woman, shared how cafés have become one of the very few places where she can socialize with friends. She noted that the lack of inclusive public spaces makes them one of the best alternatives. “Public spaces are either inaccessible or largely dominated by men, which makes it difficult for us to enjoy them freely,” she said. As a result, meeting at cafés or visiting friends’ homes becomes the only viable option for many young women.

When Socialization Becomes a Commodity

While cafés and restaurants do offer a sense of freedom and connection, they also come with the burden of financial expenditure and a culture of consumerism. The simple act of meeting a friend now requires spending money, turning leisure and socialization into a commodity.

Srinagar today is dotted with numerous cafés — many of which have become familiar spots for younger women like Huzaifa, Anisa, and Mahreen. Tahira, too, mentioned occasionally going to restaurants, though for her, it’s a rare occurrence.

What emerges from these experiences is a troubling pattern: leisure and social interaction are increasingly shaped by capitalist structures. The lack of free and inclusive public spaces has led to the proliferation of cafés and restaurants in Kashmir and, with it, a commodified model of socialization.

This shift is also exclusionary, since these spaces are largely accessible to a specific demographic — young, mobile, financially stable or independent individuals — while leaving out others such as those from lower-income backgrounds and women, particularly those who are older or unemployed.

What these stories highlight is that public spaces are not truly public. The world outside our homes is often not designed for everyone. For Huzaifa, Mahreen, and Anisa, gender becomes a barrier — as public spaces are dominated by men, few places feel accessible or welcoming for women, making cafés their only escape. However, for many, cafés remain a luxury out of reach. There are no alternative free spaces where people can connect or just be without having to spend money.

Meanwhile, for many of Tahira’s female friends — women who are retired or unemployed — the city feels even more distant. With no public spaces to spend time in or casually occupy, stepping outside can feel purposeless. Unless accompanied by family, many women simply stay home — not because they want to, but because the outside world offers them no place to just be.

Rethinking Urban Growth

The way the city is expanding, it risks becoming a series of concrete lanes lined with shops, cafés, and shopping complexes devoid of free and accessible green spaces. This pattern is concerning — not only for the well-being of local communities but also for the environment.

According to the World Health Organization, a city should have a minimum of 9 square meters of green space per capita. However, Srinagar falls significantly short of this benchmark. In recent years, the city has witnessed a substantial decline in green cover, contributing to increasingly high temperatures.

Kashmir Life in 2023 reported that Srinagar only had 169 parks covering 287 hectares, which is nearly 50 percent less than the 570 hectares recommended under the 2015 Urban and Regional Development Plans Formulation and Implementation (URDPFI) guidelines.

Thus, there is an urgent need to rethink urban development in Srinagar — and Kashmir at large — towards a model that prioritizes inclusive, free, and green spaces within our communities. What Kashmir needs is not imported aesthetics, infrastructure, or technology, but thoughtful urban design rooted in an understanding of the region’s social, cultural, and environmental realities.

These changes must take place both at the community level and within systemic planning. Locally, this means building parks and green spaces within walking distance of residential areas where people can gather, socialize, and connect. At a broader level, it requires designing roads, sidewalks, and other public infrastructure sustainably and in alignment with the needs of the local population and regional landscape.