Mir Iqbal Hussain
There was a time when water flowed freely from natural springs, trees provided shade without asking anything in return, and fertile land sustained generations of families. Nature was not something people discussed in terms of its market value. It was part of their lives, their culture, and their survival. In Kashmir, this relationship was visible in village life, where people depended on springs, streams, orchards, forests, and agricultural land for their everyday needs. Today, however, our relationship with nature is changing, and the consequences are becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. Somewhere along the way, humanity discovered that survival itself could become a business. Land became property, water became a commodity, food became an industry, and shelter became an investment. Gradually, human beings became customers of the very planet on which they were born. We now spend much of our lives earning money to pay for necessities that ultimately depend on natural resources. What was once considered a shared inheritance is increasingly being treated as something to be bought, sold, and controlled.
Kashmir offers a striking example of this transformation. The Valley, blessed with fertile fields, orchards, lakes, rivers, and forests, is witnessing growing pressure on its natural resources. Around Srinagar and its expanding outskirts, concrete structures are spreading into landscapes that once supported vegetation and agriculture. Agricultural land faces competing demands, while unplanned construction puts additional pressure on drainage systems, water resources, and the environment. Development is necessary, and people need homes, roads, schools, and employment. But development that ignores ecological limits eventually begins to undermine the very foundations of human well-being.
Dal Lake illustrates this contradiction particularly well. Its waters, floating gardens, houseboats, and shikaras are central to Kashmir’s identity and tourism economy. Yet pollution, sewage discharge, encroachment, and pressure from development have posed persistent challenges to the lake’s ecological health. A performance audit by the Comptroller and Auditor General of India, presented in March 2026, highlighted shortcomings in lake conservation, sewage management, and the restoration of open-water areas. The irony is difficult to miss: we earn livelihoods from the beauty of Dal Lake, yet our failure to protect its ecological health threatens the very resource on which those livelihoods depend. Hokersar Wetland offers another troubling example. This important wetland supports biodiversity and provides habitat for migratory birds visiting Kashmir. However, the CAG’s performance audit reported that approximately 2,528 kanals of the wetland had been encroached upon.
The figure is a reminder that environmental loss is not always immediately visible in our daily lives. When a wetland loses land to encroachment, the damage extends beyond the occupied area. Wildlife habitats, ecological functions, and the wetland’s contribution to the surrounding environment are also put at risk. What may appear to be a gain for an individual can become a collective loss for society. Water tells another part of this story. Kashmir has long been associated with its freshwater springs, streams, and rivers. Yet many communities are increasingly concerned about the condition and reliability of their traditional water sources. Pollution, growing demand, changing precipitation patterns, and the degradation of natural ecosystems all contribute to the pressure on water resources. Anchar Lake and Khushalsar, like other water bodies around Srinagar, face pressures associated with wastewater discharge, sedimentation, and urban expansion.
These lakes are not isolated patches of water; they form part of a wider ecological system whose deterioration affects the environment and the people who depend on it. When natural water sources become polluted or unreliable, families must seek alternatives, often at an additional cost. A resource that once sustained community life can gradually become an economic burden. Our relationship with food is changing as well. Agriculture in Kashmir supports thousands of families, particularly through paddy cultivation, horticulture, and apple production. Modern agricultural inputs can help farmers improve productivity, but excessive or inappropriate use of chemical fertilisers and pesticides can damage soil health, contaminate water, and harm beneficial organisms. Farmers may also face rising production costs as their dependence on purchased inputs increases. Meanwhile, changing land-use patterns raise questions about the future of agricultural land and local food security. Research on the conversion of paddy fields into apple orchards in Kashmir has examined changes in soil properties associated with this transition.
Horticulture remains an important source of income, but decisions about land use must also consider soil health, food security, and the long-term interests of farming communities. The question is not whether modern agriculture should be rejected, but whether productivity can be pursued without compromising the natural systems on which future harvests depend. Tourism presents another contradiction. Kashmir’s natural beauty attracts visitors from across the country and beyond, providing employment and supporting local businesses. Yet the same landscapes that generate income can suffer when tourism expands without adequate planning, waste management, and environmental safeguards. Lakes face pollution, popular destinations experience mounting pressure, and construction can alter fragile landscapes.
“Kashmir faces a critical choice regarding its future: continue treating its environment as a commodity for short-term gains, or protect its ecosystems as the necessary foundation for lasting development. Ignoring ecological degradation threatens both natural resources and economic security. Protecting the environment is not a luxury, but an urgent necessity to prevent catastrophic, irreversible damage before it is too late.
We cannot continue to treat nature merely as a source of revenue while ignoring the ecological responsibilities that come with benefiting from it. If the environment deteriorates, the long-term costs may eventually outweigh the immediate gains. Even trees and forests are increasingly discussed in terms of carbon storage and economic value. Such calculations can be useful in environmental planning, but they cannot fully capture what a forest means to a community. A tree provides shade, supports biodiversity, protects soil, contributes to the water cycle, and offers shelter to countless living organisms. A forest is not merely a collection of trees with a monetary value. It is a living system whose benefits extend far beyond what can be recorded in an economic account. When we reduce nature to figures on a balance sheet, we risk overlooking the relationships that make life possible.
Climate change makes this loss of perspective even more dangerous. Changes in snowfall, rising temperatures, glacier retreat, irregular rainfall, and extreme weather events raise serious concerns for Kashmir’s water security, agriculture, horticulture, and livelihoods. The retreat of glaciers in the Himalayas and the changing patterns of precipitation have implications for the availability of water in the years ahead. These challenges require scientific research, responsible public policy, and informed community participation. They also require us to reconsider a development model that measures success primarily through construction, consumption, and economic expansion. Progress cannot be judged by the number of buildings erected or businesses established alone. We must also ask what happens to our rivers, forests, fertile land, and natural heritage in the process. The problem is not development itself, nor is every economic activity harmful to nature. People need employment, farmers need better incomes, and communities deserve improved facilities.
The real problem begins when development becomes detached from ecological responsibility and the pursuit of profit takes precedence over the long-term interests of society. A road, a house, a hotel, or an industrial unit may bring immediate benefits, but those benefits must be weighed against the environmental costs when projects destroy valuable ecosystems or proceed without adequate safeguards. Somewhere along the journey towards material progress, we have begun to forget that we belonged to nature long before we belonged to an economy. Our ancestors did not need to calculate the commercial value of every spring, tree, or patch of fertile land to understand its importance. They experienced these resources as part of the world that sustained them. Today, we risk losing that understanding as more aspects of life become subject to market forces. The challenge before Kashmir is to find a balance between economic development and environmental protection. Urban planning must respect natural drainage systems and protect ecologically sensitive areas. Water sources need better protection, waste must be managed responsibly, and agricultural practices should safeguard soil and water.
Tourism must generate livelihoods without destroying the landscapes that attract visitors in the first place. Industrial development must be accompanied by effective pollution control, while wetlands and forests must be protected from encroachment and degradation. These are not luxuries to be considered after development; they are essential conditions for sustainable development.
Ultimately, nature does not send us a bill when we cut down a tree, pollute a stream, damage a wetland, or cover fertile land with concrete. The bill arrives later, in the form of water scarcity, environmental damage, declining agricultural productivity, greater disaster risks, and economic hardship. By the time we recognise the full cost, repairing the damage may be far more difficult than preventing it.
Kashmir must decide what kind of inheritance it wishes to leave for future generations. We can continue to measure progress through the wealth extracted from our natural surroundings, or we can recognise that the true wealth of this land lies in the health of its ecosystems and the security of the people who depend on them. Nature is not an obstacle to development, nor is it merely a commodity to be exploited. It is the foundation on which all development rests.
The question is not whether Kashmir can afford to protect its environment. The question is whether it can afford not to. We must act before the damage becomes irreversible, before our natural inheritance turns into an economic liability, and before the consequences of our neglect rise beyond our ability to manage them. We have already ignored enough warning signs. It is time to act before the water rises over our heads.
(The author is a teacher and Environmental Science researcher pursuing a PhD in Environmental Science. 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”)
