Why should budgam bear all the brunt?. It has become first casualty when river Jhelum floods, most of the polluting industriesespecially brickkilns have mushroomed in the district, and most of the land is taken from budgam for any developmental projects. why should budgam shoulder Kashmir’sdevelopmental burden?
When one travels through Budgam today, the contrast is stark. On the one hand, this central district of Kashmir has been the backbone of agriculture, culture, and connectivity. On the other hand, it has silently borne the burden of floods, land use for railways and highways, industries, brick kilns, and endless construction projects, all in the name of “development.” The question is unavoidable: why should Budgam bear all the brunt? Whenever Jhelum swells, parts of Budgam become first casualty of the floods. This is not natural, this is institutional. Kandizaal famously known as forced breach point to discharge overflowing Jhelum into villages of budgam has been the institutional practice to save the Srinagar, as if the people around the Kandizaal belt are of lesser God.
Budgam’s geography has always made it vulnerable to the excesses of nature. The district holds key wetlands such as Hokersar, Narbal, and Shalabugh, which once acted as natural sponges during floods. These wetlands absorbed excess water and protected Srinagar from flooding. But in the last two decades, most of these water bodies have been encroached upon or turned into dumping grounds. The floods of 2014 reminded us of the price of this neglect—Budgam’s villages were among the worst hit. Year after year, this district continues to pay for a development model that has no space for ecological safeguards. Almost every major infrastructure project in Kashmir seems to pass through Budgam. The railway line that connects Srinagar to the rest of the Valley cuts through vast tracts of fertile land here. Highways and link roads, meant to ease connectivity for the wider region, take over orchards and paddy fields in Budgam. The irony is cruel: while the land is used for projects in the name of public benefit, Budgam itself is left with narrow, pothole-ridden roads where commuters struggle daily. Compensation is often delayed, meagre, or contested. Farmers who once grew saffron, almonds, or rice are reduced to waiting in government offices for payments that may never match their losses. In the balance sheet of Kashmir’s “development,” Budgam is asked to sacrifice more than it gains.
No district in Kashmir has been choked by brick kilns as much as Budgam. From Chadoora to Narbal, these kilns dominate the landscape, spewing smoke into the air and eating up fertile top soil of agriculture and karewa lands. Once, these karewas were globally known for producing the finest saffron and almonds. Today, many have been flattened for bricks and road projects. The short-term profit of industrialists has become the long-term loss of an entire district. Industries too have been concentrated in Budgam with little planning. They bring noise, waste, and traffic, but hardly any meaningful employment for local youth. Pollution levels are rising, while accountability remains absent.
When a district becomes a dumping ground for industries that no one else wants, it is not development—it is environmental injustice. The destruction of karewas deserves special attention. These elevated plateaus are not just geological marvels; they are repositories of history, heritage, and identity. Fossils found here tell the story of Kashmir’s ancient past. The saffron fields of Pampore, the almond orchards of Budgam, and the fertile soils that sustained generations are all tied to karewas. Bulldozing them for brick kilns, road projects, or housing colonies is nothing short of cultural vandalism. Once a karewa is destroyed, it cannot be restored. This loss is permanent, and yet, it is happening every day in Budgam. What is taken away from this district is not just land—it is memory, tradition, and a piece of Kashmir’s soul. If land is used for railways, highways, and industries, one would expect Budgam at least to have the best roads in return.
“Reassessment of policies towards Budgam is imperative to ensure sustainable, inclusive, and just growth for the entire region. Failure to do so will result in the district’s continued decline due to neglect, pollution, and environmental hazards (like floods), while it bears the disproportionate cost of others’ development. The summary concludes with a strong demand for collective action from Budgam’s political and civil society leaders to protect the district from detrimental policies and environmental “plunder. Budgam district must be recognized as an equal partner in Kashmir’s development, not merely a recipient of its burdens or a dumping ground.”
The reality is the opposite. Some of the most pathetic roads in Kashmir are found in Budgam. Commuters know the pain of daily travel on roads riddled with potholes. Students, patients, and workers spend hours navigating distances that should take minutes. The injustice is glaring: Budgam’s land is good enough for everyone else’s projects, but its people are left with broken infrastructure. The bigger problem is structural. Budgam has become a “sacrifice zone,” a place where the costs of development are dumped but the benefits rarely reach. When floods hit, Budgam absorbs the water. When industries expand, they expand here. When roads or railways need land, Budgam provides it. But when it comes to investment in health, education, or urban facilities, the district is often last in the queue. Development is not just about building projects—it is about distributing both costs and benefits fairly. In Budgam’s case, the balance is tilted so heavily towards sacrifice that the very idea of fairness collapses. Behind every brick kiln, every bulldozed karewa, and every flooded wetland are real people. Families who lose their farms, workers who breathe polluted air, children who walk unsafe roads, and communities whose traditions are uprooted. The human cost of Budgam’s burden is invisible in official reports but painfully visible on the ground. Farmers whose fathers cultivated saffron now look at barren lands where trucks carry away soil. Mothers who once relied on clean streams now worry about contaminated water. Youth who dream of jobs watch industries extract resources without employing them. The story of Budgam is not just about land and roads; it is about lives disrupted and futures compromised.
The question, therefore, is not whether Kashmir needs development—it does. The question is whether development should always come at Budgam’s expense. Why not plan projects in a way that protects wetlands rather than fills them? Why not relocate industries to less fragile zones? Why not invest in roads, schools, and hospitals in Budgam with the same urgency as railways and highways? Budgam’s karewas could be conserved as heritage landscapes, attracting tourism and research, rather than being destroyed. Its wetlands could be restored as flood buffers, saving lives and property across Srinagar. Its youth could be given dignified jobs in industries that are clean, green, and future-oriented. Budgam has been patient for too long. It has given its land, air, and water for the rest of Kashmir’s development. But patience should not be mistaken for weakness. The people of Budgam deserve to ask: why should they bear all the brunt?
The time has come for policymakers, planners, and civil society to answer this question honestly. Development cannot be built on the ruins of one district alone. Justice demands that Budgam be seen not as a dumping ground, but as an equal partner in Kashmir’s future. If Kashmir wants a model of growth that is sustainable, inclusive, and just, it must start by rethinking about Budgam. Otherwise, the district will continue to drown—in floods, in pollution, and in neglect—while carrying the burden of everyone else’s dreams. Ministers, MLA’s, Leaders, and civil society of the Budgam must act together and must save the district from plunder, pollution and policies detrimental to its peoples survival.
(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”)
