Opinion | Preserving Kashmir’s Cultural Fabric

Peace and stability have finally given Kashmir the space to reflect, rebuild, and redefine itself. This moment demands responsibility. Culture must be protected in daily choices, in homes, schools, and public behaviour.

For years, conversations about Jammu and Kashmir have been dominated by politics, security, and conflict. In the shadow of these discussions, a quieter transformation has been unfolding inside our homes, schools, and everyday habits. It concerns culture. Not culture as a slogan or a festival banner, but culture as something lived daily. The language we speak to our children, the food we eat, the clothes we wear, and the stories we pass on. This cultural fabric has shaped Kashmiri society for generations, and today it faces a challenge that is subtle but serious.

One of the earliest signs of this change begins at home. Increasingly, many Kashmiri parents choose to speak to their children in Urdu or English from birth, believing this will give them an advantage in the modern world. Education and exposure are important, but when a child grows up disconnected from their mother tongue, something essential is lost. Kashmiri is not just a language. It carries memory, emotion, humour, and history. When children cannot speak it fluently or understand its depth, they are cut off from their own roots. A language that is not passed on within families does not survive in books or classrooms alone. This disconnect becomes more visible as children grow older. Today’s younger generation consumes global content at an unprecedented scale. They can quote poets whose verses circulate in short reels recorded thousands of miles away, yet many remain unfamiliar with the giants of Kashmiri literature. Names like Rahman Rahi, Rasul Mir, Mehjoor, and other literary stalwarts who shaped Kashmiri thought and expression are slowly fading from everyday conversation. This is not a rejection of global culture, but it raises an uncomfortable question. How can a generation appreciate the world if it remains unfamiliar with its own intellectual and cultural inheritance?

The same pattern appears in how we relate to traditional attire. The Pheran, once a natural part of daily life during Kashmir’s long winters, is increasingly confined to symbolic occasions. It is now often worn on Pheran Day, an initiative aimed at promoting Kashmiri culture, but rarely seen on ordinary days. When cultural symbols are reduced to calendar events, they lose their living presence. Tradition survives when it is worn, spoken, and practiced without self consciousness, not when it is displayed occasionally for remembrance. Media habits also reflect this distancing. For decades, platforms like DD Kashir and Radio Kashmir played a vital role in preserving language, music, folklore, and local narratives. They introduced generations to Kashmiri drama, poetry, history, and social values. Today, most young people have stopped engaging with these platforms altogether. While digital media offers variety and speed, abandoning local content entirely leaves a cultural vacuum. Exposure to the world should add to identity, not replace it.

Even our food habits tell the same story. Fast food culture has spread rapidly, and pizzas and burgers have become routine choices for many young Kashmiris. There is nothing wrong with trying new cuisines, but it is worth noticing how traditional breads like Girda, Lawasa, and Shirmal have almost disappeared from everyday consumption. Food is a powerful carrier of culture. When local food vanishes from regular meals, it signals a deeper shift in lifestyle and values. What connects all these changes is not hostility toward culture, but indifference. Culture is rarely destroyed overnight. It fades when people stop feeling responsible for it. This is why the most important task today is to create a sense of Fikr in the younger generation. A quiet but firm awareness that we are the custodians of this culture. No external institution, policy, or celebration can protect it if we do not.

Preserving Kashmir’s cultural fabric does not mean resisting modernity or isolating ourselves. Progress is necessary, and exposure to the world is valuable. The challenge is balance. Learning English should not mean forgetting Kashmiri. Wearing modern clothes should not make traditional attire feel awkward. Global music and literature should not push local voices into obscurity. Modernity should touch our lives, not erase their original sanctity. Peace and stability have finally given Kashmir the space to reflect, rebuild, and redefine itself. This moment demands responsibility. Culture must be protected in daily choices, in homes, schools, and public behaviour. When parents speak Kashmiri to their children, when youth take pride in their poets and traditions, when local food, language, and media remain part of ordinary life, culture stays alive.

Kashmir has endured enough disruptions. Preserving its cultural fabric is not about romanticising the past. It is about ensuring continuity. A society that knows where it comes from stands firmer as it moves forward. And if this generation carries that responsibility with awareness and confidence, Kashmir’s culture will not need saving. It will simply continue to live.

The author is a Srinagar-based activist and can be reached at syedjahanzeeb2@gmail.com