A Cry from the Soul of a Forgotten Kashmir
I was just asking for a lift. That’s all. Not money, not charity—just one act of kindness. Just one car to stop for an old woman standing helpless by the roadside. My legs were trembling. My back ached. My shawl could not block the cold. My eyes were searching—hoping—begging, not for help, but for humanity. But car after car passed by. Some looked and turned away. Some smiled. Some pretended not to see. But no one stopped. And in that moment, something inside me shattered—not just because my body was tired, but because my heart realized a deeper pain: we have forgotten what it means to be human.
Where has our humanity gone, Kashmir? The land once known for its warmth, its honour, its care for elders and guests—what has happened to our souls? We proudly serve kehwa to tourists. We open our homes to strangers. We wrap them in the softness of our shawls, and we smile wide and say, “Welcome to Kashmir! See our hospitality, see our humanity!” But that kindness—is it real, or just for show? Because when our own mothers, our own fathers, our own sisters need us—we fail them. We walk past them. We ignore them. We pretend we’re too busy, too modern, too important. We say we are advancing. That we are becoming “modern.” But what is this modernization that makes our hearts colder and our homes lonelier? Islam taught us to balance progress with compassion. To never forget the rights of people, no matter how advanced we become. The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) said, “He is not one of us who does not show mercy to our young and respect to our elders.” But today, we have time for phones, parties, selfies—but no time to hold our father’s hand or listen to our mother’s silence. We’ve made weddings huge shows.
“We share Islamic posts but don’t follow even one verse. Our religion, our culture, our identity—all have become decoration without depth. Kashmir doesn’t need more decoration. It needs revival of heart. Real modernization is not about forgetting our elders or ignoring our responsibilities. It is about improving our lives while keeping our souls alive.”
Gold, halls, stages, music, competition. We care more about the decoration than the dua. And in all this fake honour, our sisters suffer. So many of them sit in silence, praying for a simple nikah, crying for a husband, not because Islam made it hard—but because we did. We turned Sunnah into a burden. We turned blessings into business. And when it comes to property, we deny our sisters their share. Even though Allah said in clear verses of the Qur’an (Surah An-Nisa), “Give women their due share.” Yet we cheat, we ignore, we justify. And then we say we are pious? We pray five times, build masjids, and wear Islamic caps—but where is our real Islam when our own sister sleeps hungry?
Our parents gave us everything. They sacrificed their dreams for ours. They walked miles in snow to feed and educate us. And now, when they grow old, when they walk slow, when they cry in their room—we don’t even notice. We treat them like a burden. We forget that Jannah lies beneath the feet of the mother. We forget that every smile we deny her is a sin. We think we are progressing, but we are only sinking—into selfishness, into cruelty. We smile for cameras but not for each other. We share Islamic posts but don’t follow even one verse. Our religion, our culture, our identity—all have become decoration without depth. Kashmir doesn’t need more decoration. It needs revival of heart. Real modernization is not about forgetting our elders or ignoring our responsibilities. It is about improving our lives while keeping our souls alive. Islam is the perfect balance—progress with purpose, rights with relationships.
We must wake up. Before it’s too late. Before another mother cries alone. Before another sister is denied her right. Before another old man dies waiting for someone to listen. Let us bring back the real Islam—the one that lives in actions, not just in words. One day, we too will be old. We too will wait at the roadside. We too will stretch our hand in hope. And may Allah not test us with the same cruelty we showed others. Kashmir doesn’t just need change. It needs compassion. It doesn’t just need progress. It needs purpose.And we don’t just need to look Islamic. We need to live it.
(The author a a teacher by profession is a freelancer. The views, opinions and conclusions expressed in this article are those of the author and aren’t necessarily in accord with the views of “Kashmir Horizon”)
Dr. Aftab Jan
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