Kashmiriyat in Crises: A Battle to Save Our Culture, Language, and Legacy

From the felling of 500-year-old Chinars in Islamabad-Kashmir, the crackdown on cultural expression, multiple fire incidents, and the rapid decline of the Kashmiri-speaking population, to the invasion of foreign culture, the cutting down of hundreds of Chinars and thousands of other trees in the name of development, the erosion of ethics, morals, and hospitality, and the loss of what we once called Kashmiriyat — all these elements have swiftly infiltrated my homeland, my Kashmir.

Where “Sernagar” has become “Shrinagar,” “Ristè” has become “Ristaa,” “Kaangèr” has become “Kangri,” and countless other words have now been replaced with modern names that not only sound strange but are gradually being forgotten — not just by Gen Z, but even by the majority of Millennials. This is truly heartbreaking. How has a land, once so culturally, naturally, ethically, and morally rich, transformed into a place that now longs only for a glimpse of snow?

In a world where every leader, every citizen, and every government invests millions to preserve their land, culture, traditions, and history, Kashmir remains hundreds, if not thousands, of steps behind. Kashmir is like an old age home filled with stories of love, sorrow, knowledge, memories, and betrayal — all slowly being covered by the veil of social media. With every river and spring that dries up, the spirit of Kashmir fades away. With every forest that vanishes, we bury yet another precious, unique part of our land. The cultural invasion has spread like a massive plague, gradually eroding the essence of what should have been ingrained in us. From the beautiful Kashmiri literature to the traditional handicrafts and labor work, Kashmir is gradually forgetting it all.

People who once cherished their homeland and mother tongue now find it difficult and even embarrassing to speak it. Oppression is not merely caging the bird; it is also cutting its wings and silencing its song, until it has no spark left to fly and sing. Here arises a question: Why? Why is it that only Kashmir is losing all that it once held dear? Why is the language, culture, and tradition being extinguished? Why is Kashmiri on the brink of glottophagy? Losing one’s language is like losing one’s soul, and losing one’s culture, tradition, lifestyle, literature, and history is to lose one’s identity and ownership.

“Myoun bachè chu angraiz te katha” (My child is more like a white American), says a mother as she encourages her child to speak English from an early age, leaving the mother tongue to be forgotten in a distant corner. And with that, our mother tongue dies, its funeral taking place in every home of my homeland. This marks the death of our culture and traditions when a Kashmiri father mocks his son for wearing a phyaran (the traditional Kashmiri dress). From the widespread introduction of Westernization to the permanent closure of historic spiritual places and shrines, we are walking a road that leads us nowhere.

Kashmir, no doubt, will one day be a barren field, devoid of identity and ownership, unless the people who live here now step forward to raise themselves and their future generations in the true Kashmiri way, rather than shaping them in the image of the West. As the great poet Sir Allama Muhammad Iqbal so wisely said: “This is the lesson that every evening’s sun teaches us: If you head towards the west, you will sink.” He warned us long ago of the destructive consequences of adopting what is not ours and what is not right.

Therefore, it is high time that we, as Kashmiris, come together and save our land, our Kashmir. Let us not allow our heritage to be forgotten. Let not our Kashmir be foreign to future generations.

Aabad!