In 1989, as a teenage daughter of an Indian Navy soldier, I visited Kashmir for the first time. The air was thick with unrest and the entire Karnataka Express was filled with army personnel heading into the Valley. That memory etched with tension and resilience remained with me for decades.
Years later, I was invited to a Kashmir Central Magazine Conclave in New Delhi in 2023. The memories returned with force; this time mingled with a deep emotion, witnessing the faded vibrancy of a place once celebrated for its trade, tourism and culture. The heartache of watching “Jannat” lose its rhythm was real.
As a representative of Roots of Peace and someone who helped launch the book Breaking Ground by Heidi Kuhn during the pandemic, I felt a renewed responsibility. A civil engineer with a focus on environmental engineering, my visit to Kashmir was not just personal, it was purposeful.
What I witnessed was both breathtaking and heartbreaking.
The Valley is undeniably beautiful but the scars of global warming are visible. Deforestation has left the mountains barren, their once-green shoulders now sliding into valleys as landslides. Heavy rains and snowfall had made the route to Sonamarg inaccessible, nature’s silent alarm. Rivers, once roaring lifelines, now whisper in shallow flows. The threat is real. The call for sustainable water management and renewable energy particularly hydropower is louder than ever. Solar doesn’t work effectively in these climes. We need intelligent, context-sensitive solutions.
Yet, amidst these worries, Kashmir welcomed me with open arms. My faith is humanity and in Kashmir, humanity was everywhere. My pet and I were greeted with warmth, from the langar at Jammu’s entry to heartfelt hospitality in Srinagar, even during odd hours. Strangers offered food, hotels opened doors late into the night and we even found a cozy stay opposite a quiet church.
At 11:40 PM, I stood at Lal Chowk to salute the Indian soldiers, a moment of pride, strength and remembrance. Stray dogs surrounded us in large numbers yet another issue that needs thoughtful intervention. Srinagar, though magical, must work harder on cleanliness. Interestingly, the countryside appeared far cleaner than the capital itself.
Jammu, in contrast, stood out as one of India’s cleanest cities. From plains to plateaus, rivers to ranges, this journey took me through the stunning spectrum of India’s geography, reminding me why this country is a living textbook of nature. And why it must be preserved.
Kashmiri culture stole my heart: the art of bread-making, the warmth of kahwa, the richness of cuisine, the sweetness of apples that rival sugarcane and the unmatched craft of shawls, jams, pickles, dry fruits and apple cider vinegar. Despite being a strict vegetarian, I had no trouble finding delicious food, a hint for restaurateurs to cater more consciously to vegetarian travelers.
During the sacred month of Ramadan, I witnessed the breaking of fasts, an intimate glance into a community’s spirit. Our hotel, a charming 70-year-old property near Dal Lake, was under renovation but its soul remained intact.
As we drove across terrains, it became clearer: Kashmir doesn’t just need sympathy, it needs sincere, strategic revival. Cultural, social, economic, environmental and political threads must be woven together to uplift this Heaven on Earth. A disruption in any one sector hurts the others. Tourism, especially, holds the power to uplift lives, create jobs, and restore dignity.
I returned not just with memories but with resolve. Kashmir is not Switzerland, it is better, it is ours. And it deserves our attention, our action and our affection.
Let this story be a call, not just to visit Kashmir but to invest in its soul.
