On the surface, Kashmir still appears serene—snow-clad peaks, green meadows, calm lakes, and fragrant orchards. But beneath this postcard beauty lies a grim truth: the region is moving towards a climate crisis. The question is not whether Kashmir is vulnerable to climate change—it undeniably is. The real question is whether Kashmir is prepared. Unfortunately, the answer is unsettling. Kashmir’s glaciers are melting at an alarming rate. Studies have shown that many Himalayan glaciers, including those feeding the Jhelum River, have shrunk significantly in the past three decades. The Kolahoi Glacier, once dubbed the “Matterhorn of Kashmir,” has lost more than 20% of its mass in just a few decades. The Harmukh Glacier is faring no better. These glaciers are our water towers. Their retreat means short-term flooding from increased runoff and long-term drought when the glaciers are gone. This double-edged threat should have triggered a full-blown climate emergency response. But our planning continues to focus more on electoral calculations than ecological ones. Older generations recall winters when snow would blanket the Valley for weeks, sometimes months. But today, rainfall is replacing snowfall, even in January. In 2024, Srinagar recorded one of the driest Januarys in recent memory. Ski slopes in Gulmarg looked bare. Apple orchards bloomed early, only to be hit by an unexpected frost later. Climate change is scrambling seasons. It’s not just an environmental issue—it’s an economic one. Kashmir’s horticulture, agriculture, tourism, and water systems are all being battered. Yet, there is little to no adaptation framework for these sectors. The 2014 flood is etched in Kashmir’s collective memory. That catastrophe displaced over half a million people for few months and caused an estimated ₹44,000 crore in damages. Many assumed it was a once-in-a-century event. But just a decade later, flood alarms are now a yearly ritual. Encroachments on floodplains, unplanned urbanization, and the silting of the Jhelum and Wular Lake have worsened the situation. The flood channels remain partially dredged, embankments are weak, and houseboats line shrinking wetlands like Hokersar and Anchar, which once absorbed excess water. Each rainfall now feels like Russian roulette. We’ve gone from flood-resistant to flood-prone, and yet, from the administration to the common citizen, complacency prevails. Kashmir’s agrarian economy is under stress. The changing climate has brought erratic rainfall, pest infestations, and early blooming followed by frost damage. Saffron yields are shrinking. Walnut trees are flowering out of season. Paddy fields are suffering from water shortages or sudden deluges. Farmers have no climate insurance. There are no widespread climate-resilient seeds, no real-time weather advisories, and no institutional support systems. When nature plays foul, a lifetime’s effort vanishes overnight. The silence around this suffering is deafening. Srinagar, once a city of lakes and canals, is now a city of concrete. Karewas—unique table-top lands that once held saffron and almond groves—are being flattened for roads, housing, and filling wetlands. Mountains are being hacked for stone crushers. Wetlands have become waste bins. Climate change has made cities more vulnerable to heatwaves, flash floods, and diseases. But our urban planning seems stuck in the 1980s. Green building codes are absent. Drainage systems are choked. Waste is dumped in open spaces. The Smart City project talks of beautification but says little about resilience. Water is Kashmir’s blessing, and yet it might become its curse. Wular Lake, one of Asia’s largest freshwater lakes, has lost over half its area due to encroachment and siltation. Dal Lake is choked with sewage. Snow-fed rivers now run dry in May and overflow in August.
“Mountains are melting and valleys are drowning. Is Kashmir prepared to deal with climate change realities? At present, No. To begin with, the four key sectors, water, agriculture, health and education must be made ready to deal the climate change realities”.
The Holy Qur’an warns in Surah Al-Mulk (67:30), “Say: Have you considered: if your water were to become sunken [into the earth], then who could bring you flowing water?” This verse is more relevant today than ever. We treat water as eternal and infinite. It is not. While large-scale and permanent climate migration has not yet become a reality in Kashmir, the signs of future displacement are beginning to emerge. Repeated landslides in hilly districts like Poonch, Ramban, Kupwara and Uri, recurring floods in low-lying areas of Srinagar, and shrinking water resources in parts of Pulwama, Kupwara, and Baramulla hint at a future where some communities may be forced to move. As the impacts of climate change intensify—through flood damage, failed crops, or disappearing springs—displacement may gradually shift from being a rare exception to a growing concern. The question is: will our systems be ready to support those uprooted not by conflict, but by climate? One may argue that plans are being made—Disaster management authorities exist, and climate adaptation policies are drafted. But these are largely paperwork exercises. On the ground, early warning systems don’t function properly. Villages prone to landslides and avalanches receive no real preparedness training. Our schools do not teach climate literacy. Our institutions do not prioritize environmental science. Our budgets barely allocate funds for real climate resilience. There is a gap between what is written and what is done—a dangerous gap in a time of planetary urgency. Kashmir needs a climate mission with teeth. Here are the seven urgent priorities that all the stakeholders must work towards without wasting a day.Invest in real-time weather monitoring and community alerts in flood and landslide-prone areas.Dredge, de-encroach, and revive Wular, Dal, Hokersar, and flood channels of the Jhelum.Introduce drought and frost-resilient crops, expand crop insurance, and build local agro-forecast systems.Enforce green zoning laws, strengthen drainage systems, and stop karewa destruction.Set up a Himalayan glacier observatory for Kashmir and establish a regional water conservation authority.Make climate studies mandatory in schools, colleges, and civil service training. And most urgently put in place the heating-cooling apparatus in all health and educational institutions. Kashmir is not just another region. It is a living, breathing, culturally rich ecosystem. Its beauty is not accidental—it has been shaped over millennia by glaciers, rivers, forests, and traditional knowledge. To let it vanish under bulldozers, bureaucracy, and business-as-usual is a tragedy we cannot afford. The melting of our mountains is not just the loss of snow—it is the loss of memory, of identity, of future. The drowning of our valleys is not just water damage—it is a symbol of our refusal to adapt. We must act. Not tomorrow. But today. Before the Chinars bloom no more, before the Wular is a memory, before Kashmir’s children grow up asking what a glacier looked like.
(The author is a teacher and a researcher based in Gowhar Pora Chadoora of Central Kashmir’s Budgam district. 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. Ashraf Zainabi
