“Waqf is a sacred trust whose managers hold temporary authority over properties meant to serve the greater public good. They are accountable for managing these substantial responsibilities beyond individual, governmental, or political interests, with success measured by public benefit rather than controversy.”

Waqf Properties Must Serve The Wider Public Good: Waqf properties should not be viewed merely as sources of rental income. Properly managed, they can support education, improve healthcare, assist vulnerable families and address pressing community needs. Where the terms of an endowment and applicable law permit, suitable properties could be developed for schools, healthcare facilities, vocational training centres and other socially beneficial initiatives. Each asset should be assessed by location, legal status, financial viability and original purpose: some may be best used to generate rent, while others may support direct public-service projects. Underutilised properties should be identified for productive use. Where development is feasible, the Board could consider transparent partnerships with credible educational, healthcare or charitable organisations, subject to law and safeguards protecting the endowment. A long-term development plan should identify suitable properties, required resources, expected outcomes and monitoring mechanisms. The Board should explain how commercial income is channelled towards authorised religious, charitable and welfare activities. A well-managed Waqf property should contribute to education, healthcare, poverty alleviation and social welfare. Waqf is an amanah—a trust whose value lies in the good its assets enable.
The Khutba Controversy: Where Should Administrative Authority End? The controversy over proposed common themes for Friday sermons has raised questions about the boundary between administrative coordination and religious autonomy. Media reports have described a proposal to form a committee of religious scholars, imams and khateebs to identify common themes for sermons across mosques and shrines. The stated objectives included religious awareness, moral values, social harmony and community welfare. The proposal attracted criticism from religious organisations and political leaders, including the Mutahida Majlis-e-Ulema and Chief Minister Omar Abdullah. Critics questioned whether a statutory body responsible for Waqf administration should prescribe or standardise religious discourse. The chairperson subsequently clarified that no order making uniform sermons mandatory had been issued and that imams and khateebs remained free to decide the content of their sermons. That distinction matters: voluntary coordination among scholars is not the same as compelling mosques to follow prescribed content. The episode nevertheless raises questions about institutional priorities, authority and consultation. Managing properties, maintaining shrines, ensuring financial accountability and protecting endowments are core responsibilities. Initiatives touching religious practice require sensitivity, clarity about authority and meaningful engagement with recognised religious scholars. Voluntary cooperation on education, public health, communal harmony and charitable work can be beneficial, but it should emerge from informed consultation and respect for religious scholarship—not create the perception that an administrative body is seeking control over the pulpit. When announcements generate concern, the Board should explain its intentions and clarify whether participation is voluntary. Religious matters deserve attention, but sermon coordination should not distract from substantial property-management and welfare responsibilities. The Board must fulfil its legal duties while respecting religious autonomy, scholarly diversity and local traditions.
Beyond Political Allegiances: The challenges facing the Waqf Board cannot be resolved merely by replacing one chairperson or transferring authority from one political establishment to another. If arrangements remain vulnerable to patronage, opacity and arbitrary decision-making, the same questions will arise again. Reform must focus on systems rather than personalities. Transparent appointments, clear eligibility criteria, effective audits, updated property records, lawful and competitive leasing procedures, published performance reports and independent scrutiny can reduce opportunities for political interference. Decision-making responsibilities should be defined clearly, with mechanisms for review and redress. The Board should set measurable objectives and report achievements, shortcomings and corrective measures annually. Protecting properties, recovering revenue, preventing encroachments and developing suitable assets for education and healthcare require sustained attention. Reforms must respect individual endowments, beneficiaries’ rights and lawful interests of those managing or using Waqf properties. Religious scholars, community representatives, civil society and citizens all have a role in demanding accountability. Criticism should rely on verifiable information, and allegations of corruption should be supported by evidence and referred to appropriate authorities. Officials, in turn, should not treat legitimate questions as hostility towards the institution or the religion it serves. Accessible complaint mechanisms, timely responses and action on established irregularities would strengthen public confidence.
Restoring The Original Purpose: Waqf administration’s history reflects changing political circumstances and legal frameworks. It deserves honest examination without romanticising the past or assuming every institutional change was harmful. The original purpose remains the appropriate standard against which the institution should be judged: protecting endowments, managing assets responsibly, preserving religious heritage and serving the community. The Board’s legitimacy depends not simply on its legal authority, but also on public confidence in how it exercises that authority. Such confidence must be earned through openness, fairness, restraint and demonstrable results. The people of Jammu and Kashmir deserve a Waqf institution that is neither a political instrument nor an opaque establishment. It should protect properties, account for income, consult religious scholars where appropriate and direct resources towards their intended purposes. Better schools, hospitals, healthcare, educational opportunities for disadvantaged children and effective charitable programmes would demonstrate that Waqf resources are being used meaningfully. The central question is whether the Board is sufficiently independent, transparent and accountable to fulfil its original purpose. If political influence has at times overshadowed that purpose, the remedy lies in evidence-based scrutiny and durable safeguards, not partisan accusations. Past allotments and leases must be examined fairly, financial records opened to appropriate scrutiny, and those responsible for established irregularities held accountable in accordance with law. Waqf properties must be recognised not merely as administrative assets, but as resources capable of generating wider social good. Their value should be reflected in the welfare they provide, the institutions they support and the opportunities they create.
Waqf Is An Amanah—A Trust: Those entrusted with its management must remember that their authority is temporary, their responsibilities substantial, and the properties they administer are meant to serve purposes greater than any individual, government or political party. The ultimate measure of Waqf administration should not be the controversies it generates, but the public good it delivers.
(The author is a top political commentator and 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”)
ahmadayaz08@gmail.com.

Nafs in Islam is one of the most profound and multi-layered dimensions of Qur’anic psychology. It is a term that encompasses the inner self, the soul, and the essence of human consciousness. When we begin to explore it, we realize that it is not merely a theological abstraction. It is a living reality that shapes the moral, spiritual, and psychological trajectory of every individual. The Qur’an repeatedly draws attention to the Nafs as the locus of struggle, accountability, and transformation. It reminds humanity that within this inner domain lies both the potential for corruption and the capacity for transcendence.
Linguistically, the Arabic word Nafs is derived from the root na-fa-sa. This root conveys meanings of breath, self, and essence. It thereby links the idea of the soul to the very act of breathing, which is the rhythm of life itself. The Qur’an uses the term in multiple contexts. It sometimes refers to the individual person. At other times, it refers to the inner self that commands, reproaches, or finds peace. It also refers to the collective soul of humanity. This indicates the richness and flexibility of the term.
When we examine the Qur’anic verses, this reality becomes clear. In “Indeed the soul is ever inclined to evil, except those upon whom my Lord has mercy” (Surah Yusuf 12:53), we see the acknowledgment of the Nafs al-Ammārah. This is the commanding self that drives towards base desires. In Surah Al-Qiyamah 75:2, the Qur’an speaks of the Nafs al-Lawwāmah. This is the self-reproaching soul that awakens conscience and moral reflection. In Surah Al-Fajr 89:27-30, Allah addresses the Nafs al-Muṭma’innah, which is the tranquil soul. He invites it to return to its Lord pleased and pleasing. This demonstrates the spiritual journey of the soul from weakness to strength. It shows the movement from temptation to serenity, and from struggle to ultimate peace.
Classical scholars such as Imam al-Ghazali elaborated on this journey. He described the Nafs as the battlefield where the forces of good and evil contend. He likened it to a wild horse that must be tamed through discipline, worship, and remembrance of Allah. Meanwhile, Ibn Taymiyyah emphasized the role of the Nafs in shaping human intention. He argued that purification of the soul is the essence of religion. In this way, the Islamic tradition presents a holistic psychology. It integrates spiritual, ethical, and cognitive dimensions.
When we compare this to modern psychology, we find striking parallels. Freud’s tripartite model of the psyche—the id, ego, and superego—echoes the Qur’anic description of the Nafs. The id resembles the Nafs al-Ammārah. The ego reflects the Nafs al-Lawwāmah. The superego aligns with the moral conscience that aspires to tranquility. Yet, the Islamic model is richer because it situates the soul within a divine framework. It emphasizes accountability before God and the possibility of transcendence beyond mere psychological balance.
In today’s world, anxiety, depression, consumerism, and digital addiction dominate the mental landscape. Here, the concept of Nafs offers a timeless framework for understanding the human condition. It reminds us that the struggle is not only against external forces. It is also against the inner tendencies that pull us towards heedlessness. Thus, the Qur’an’s call to purify the soul (tazkiyat al-nafs) becomes ever more relevant. It is through remembrance (dhikr), prayer (salah), fasting (sawm), and charity (zakat) that the soul is disciplined, elevated, and aligned with divine purpose.
This introduction sets the stage for a deeper exploration of how the Nafs functions as the axis of Islamic psychology. It bridges classical wisdom with modern insights, offering humanity a roadmap for inner reform, resilience, and ultimate salvation.
When we turn to the classical tafsīr tradition to understand the concept of Nafs, we discover a rich intellectual heritage. In this tradition, scholars, mystics, and jurists sought to decode the Qur’anic references to the soul and its states. Among the most influential voices was Imam al-Ghazali. In his monumental work Ihya’ Ulum al-Din, he described the Nafs as the battleground of human existence. He likened it to a wild horse that must be trained through discipline, remembrance, and worship. He emphasized that the purification of the soul (tazkiyat al-nafs) is the very essence of religion. Without inner reform, outward rituals risk becoming hollow.
Al-Ghazali’s analysis was not merely theological, but deeply psychological. He identified the tendencies of the Nafs towards pride, envy, greed, and lust. He prescribed spiritual exercises such as fasting, prayer, and meditation to counteract these destructive impulses. In this way, he anticipated modern psychological approaches that emphasize behavioral conditioning and cognitive restructuring, but always within a divine framework.
Ibn Taymiyyah, another towering scholar, approached the Nafs from a slightly different angle. He stressed the centrality of intention (niyyah) and the alignment of the soul with divine will. He argued that the human being is constantly shaped by what the soul desires. Therefore, the purification of the Nafs is not optional but obligatory. The Qur’an declares, “He has succeeded who purifies it, and he has failed who corrupts it” (Surah Ash-Shams 91:9-10). Ibn Taymiyyah’s writings highlight the dynamic nature of the soul, which can ascend or descend depending on its orientation.
This dynamic view resonates with the Sufi tradition. Scholars such as Jalaluddin Rumi and Ibn Arabi spoke of the Nafs as a veil that must be lifted to perceive divine reality. Rumi, in his poetic metaphors, described the Nafs as a prison that confines the human spirit. He urged believers to break free through love of God and selflessness. Ibn Arabi elaborated on the cosmological dimensions of the soul. He situated the Nafs within the broader framework of existence and divine manifestation. These mystical interpretations enriched the discourse by emphasizing the experiential and transformative aspects of the soul. They showed that the journey of the Nafs is not merely intellectual but existential, requiring lived practice and spiritual struggle.
Classical tafsīr works, such as those of al-Tabari and al-Qurtubi, also provided detailed exegesis of the Qur’anic verses on the soul. They noted the gradations of the Nafs and its moral implications. They underscored that the Qur’an’s references to the soul are not abstract but practical, guiding believers in their daily lives.

“Purifying the Nafs (soul)—guided by worship, classical tafsīr, and modern psychology—provides a universal model for resilience and inner balance. Transforming the self equips individuals to overcome modern challenges like addiction and anxiety while fostering ethical leadership and mental well-being. Ultimately, societal reform depends on self-reform, making the purification of the soul both a personal duty and a collective necessity for achieving lasting peace and ultimate success in the Hereafter.”

When we synthesize these classical perspectives, a coherent framework emerges. The Nafs is simultaneously the source of temptation and the potential for transcendence. It is the inner battlefield where the forces of good and evil contend. It is also the axis of accountability before God. This framework is profoundly psychological. It recognizes the complexity of human motivation, the role of conscience, and the possibility of transformation.
When we compare this to modern psychology, we find that classical scholars anticipated many insights. They understood the unconscious, the role of intention, and the importance of discipline. However, they always rooted these insights in the Qur’anic worldview. This makes Islamic psychology unique, as it integrates the spiritual and the psychological, the ethical and the cognitive. In today’s context, revisiting these classical tafsīr views allows us to appreciate the depth of Islamic thought and its relevance to modern challenges. It reminds us that the wisdom of the past is not obsolete but timeless. It offers guidance for the struggles of the present and the uncertainties of the future.
The Qur’an and classical Islamic scholarship identify three primary states of the Nafs. Each represents a stage in the soul’s moral and spiritual development.
The first of these is the Nafs al-Ammārah, the commanding self. It is mentioned in Surah Yusuf 12:53 as the inner drive that inclines toward evil. It represents the raw, unrefined impulses of desire, anger, and ego. This state of the soul is dominated by base instincts. It often leads a person to heedlessness and sin, unless restrained by divine guidance and conscious discipline.
The second stage is the Nafs al-Lawwāmah, the self-reproaching soul. It is highlighted in Surah Al-Qiyamah 75:2 as that which awakens conscience and moral reflection. Here, the individual begins to recognize wrongdoing, feels guilt, and strives for repentance. This stage is crucial because it marks the transition from blind indulgence to self-awareness. The soul becomes a site of struggle between temptation and conscience.
Finally, the highest stage is the Nafs al-Muṭma’innah, the tranquil soul. It is addressed in Surah Al-Fajr 89:27-30, where Allah calls upon the peaceful soul to return to Him pleased and pleasing. This state reflects serenity, balance, and alignment with divine will. It is achieved through purification, remembrance, and steadfast worship.
Together, these three stages illustrate the dynamic journey of the human soul. It moves from corruption to conscience to tranquility. Scholars such as al-Ghazali and Rumi emphasized that this progression is not linear but cyclical. Believers may fluctuate between states depending on their spiritual discipline and worldly distractions, as understood in modern psychological terms.
The global relevance of the Qur’anic concept of Nafs becomes evident when we examine its application in leadership, education, and mental health. In leadership, the state of the soul determines whether authority is exercised with justice or corrupted by ego. Islamic history offers powerful examples such as the caliph Umar ibn al-Khattab (R.A.). His purified Nafs enabled him to govern with humility, fairness, and accountability. This reminds us that true leadership is not about domination but about service.
In education, the Nafs shapes the learner’s motivation, discipline, and ethical orientation. The Qur’an repeatedly calls believers to reflect, to seek knowledge, and to purify their intentions. When teachers and students cultivate the reproaching and tranquil states of the soul, education becomes more than the transfer of information. It becomes the formation of character, producing individuals who are intellectually sharp and morally grounded.
In mental health, the Nafs provides a framework for understanding inner struggles with anxiety, depression, and trauma. The commanding self often magnifies fear and desire. Meanwhile, the reproaching self awakens conscience and guilt. The tranquil soul offers serenity through remembrance of God, prayer, and trust in divine wisdom. This holistic model resonates globally because it integrates spiritual, psychological, and ethical dimensions. It offers a culturally sensitive approach to therapy for Muslim communities, while contributing universal insights into resilience and well-being.
In a world facing crises of leadership, educational disconnection, and mental health epidemics, the Qur’anic psychology of the Nafs stands as a timeless guide. It reminds humanity that the reform of society begins with the reform of the soul. The purification of the inner self is the foundation for justice, knowledge, and healing across cultures and nations.
In conclusion, the Qur’anic concept of Nafs stands as a timeless framework for understanding the human condition. It captures the inner struggle between desire and conscience, weakness and strength, heedlessness and remembrance. By tracing its stages from the commanding self to the reproaching self and finally to the tranquil soul, Islam provides a roadmap for inner reform that is both spiritual and psychological.
When worship and ethics discipline the soul, when classical tafsīr illuminates its nature, and when modern psychology finds resonance in its insights, the Nafs emerges as a universal model of resilience and balance. It guides individuals to overcome addiction, consumerism, and anxiety. At the same time, it helps cultivate leadership, education, and mental health rooted in integrity. Thus, the purification of the soul is not only a personal duty but a collective necessity. The reform of society begins with the reform of the self, and the journey of the Nafs remains humanity’s most profound path to peace. May Allah make us among those who purify their souls and return to Him with a pure heart. And may He grant us the ultimate success of a tranquil soul, greeted with the words, “Peace be upon you for what you patiently endured. How excellent is the final home! (13:24). ————–Aameen!
(The authors write regularly on Islamic Topics exclusively for the opinion pages of “Kashmir Horizon”. The views, opinions and conclusions expressed in this article are those of the authors and aren’t necessarily in accord with the views of “Kashmir Horizon”)
intizarahmd@rediffmail.com, bhat_bilal@rediffmail.com

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”)

aqibiqbal192@gmail.com

“Iḥsān is the Islamic pursuit of spiritual and ethical excellence—worshipping Allah with total awareness and sincerity. Developed by classical and Sufi scholars alike, it integrates faith with practice, transforming devotion into personal humility, moral responsibility, and service to humanity.”

Abu al-Qasim al-Qushayri, who died in 1072, further articulated the ethical and spiritual foundations of Sufism in his celebrated Al-Risalah al-Qushayriyyah, commonly known as the Epistle on Sufism. He emphasised sincerity, humility, spiritual discipline, and adherence to the Qur’an and Sunnah. Two concepts associated with later Sufi discussions are particularly relevant to Iḥsān: muraqabah, awareness of Allah’s constant knowledge and watchfulness, and mushahadah, spiritual witnessing or heightened awareness of divine signs and realities. Muraqabah closely reflects the hadith’s teaching that Allah sees the worshipper, while mushahadah can be related, with appropriate theological qualifications, to worshipping with the attentiveness of one who sees. These concepts are related interpretations rather than exact equivalents of the Prophetic definition. Abu Hamid al-Ghazali, who died in 1111, offered one of the most influential syntheses of Islamic law, theology, ethics, and spirituality in Ihyaʾ ʿUlum al-Din, or The Revival of the Religious Sciences. He argued that outward religious practices must be accompanied by sincerity, humility, and purification of the heart.
Prayer, fasting, charity, and remembrance acquire their transformative significance when they reform intentions and character. Through self-examination, the believer evaluates personal motives, recognises moral shortcomings, and strives to overcome arrogance, ostentation, envy, and excessive attachment to worldly pursuits. Al-Ghazali did not invent Iḥsān or Sufism; rather, he integrated established Islamic disciplines into a comprehensive account of spiritual and moral transformation. His work demonstrates that genuine spirituality enriches religious law rather than displacing it. Later Sufi traditions developed diverse methods for cultivating the inward awareness associated with Iḥsān.
In the Naqshbandi tradition, disciplined remembrance and sustained attentiveness became important elements of spiritual training. Ibn Ata Allah al-Iskandari, who died in 1309, explored sincerity, reliance upon Allah, and the dangers of egoism in his Hikam, or Wisdoms. Jalal al-Din Rumi, through his Mathnawi, expressed the transformative power of divine love, humility, and the recognition of human dependence upon God. Although these thinkers differed in literary style and spiritual emphasis, their works illustrate the richness of Islamic contemplative thought. Their teachings should nevertheless be understood as diverse elaborations of broader spiritual principles rather than identical definitions of Iḥsān. The enduring significance of Iḥsān lies in its integration of inward devotion and outward ethical responsibility. Spiritual attainment cannot excuse dishonesty, injustice, arrogance, or neglect of human rights. Rather, authentic spiritual development should strengthen family relationships, intellectual integrity, responsible leadership, and compassionate engagement with society. Iḥsān challenges both the reduction of religion to outward conformity and the separation of mystical experience from religious obligations. It requires the believer to cultivate sincerity before Allah while embodying goodness towards creation.
In conclusion, Iḥsān represents excellence through which Islamic belief and practice become spiritually meaningful and ethically transformative. Defined by the Prophet Muhammad as worshipping Allah with profound awareness while remaining conscious that He sees the worshipper, it establishes sincerity, attentiveness, and accountability as essential dimensions of religious life. From Al-Muhasibi and Al-Sarraj to Al-Qushayri and Al-Ghazali, and later to Ibn Ata Allah and Rumi, Muslim scholars and spiritual teachers developed diverse disciplines for cultivating these inward qualities. Ultimately, Iḥsān is not a separate religion or an experience detached from ordinary life. It is the pursuit of excellence within Islam, transforming faith into sincere worship, spiritual awareness into moral responsibility, and devotion into justice, mercy, humility, and service to humanity.
(The author a veteran academician is a former Professor and Head Department of Islamic Studies, Kashmir University. 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”)

hamidnaseem@gmail.com

In private universities, management (often owner- or board-driven) frequently holds decisive authority, while academic bodies such as senates or faculty councils are reduced to advisory or rubber-stamp roles. This is a widely documented pattern across countries, though its severity varies by institution, regulation, and ownership model.
How The Dynamic Typically Works: Private universities are usually established and funded by trusts, societies, entrepreneurs, or corporate groups. Governance structures reflect this:
• Boards of trustees / management / governors control strategy, finance, appointments of key officers (vice-chancellors, registrars), fees, infrastructure, and often major academic directions. These bodies are dominated by founders, donors, or business figures.
• Academic bodies (senates, academic councils, faculty boards) are formally responsible for curriculum, examinations, research standards, and teaching quality. In practice, their decisions frequently require higher approval or are constrained by financial and managerial parameters set above them.
• Result: agendas are pre-shaped, information is filtered, and votes often become formal ratification of already-settled outcomes. Faculty contributions feel tokenistic; dissent carries career risk because private-sector employment protections (tenure, strong unions, and robust service rules) are weaker or absent compared with many public systems.
Evidence appears in multiple contexts:
• Australian university governing bodies have been described by the National Tertiary Education Union as opaque and engaged in “tick and flick” exercises, with many members believing outcomes are predetermined.
• In the UK and related systems, the shift toward corporate-style councils has relegated senates from real governing power to recommending bodies subordinate to executive and board control. Historical observers noted that even in earlier periods some councils functioned mainly as “dignified rubber stamps,” but the balance has tilted further toward managerial authority.
• Indian and South Asian private universities show similar patterns in research on governance and autonomy: many acts lack clear, enforceable provisions on faculty appointment/promotion criteria or service conditions; management intervenes in academic decisions; and academic freedom is constrained by institutional mission or commercial priorities. Studies of Indian private universities document deprofessionalization—declining autonomy, job insecurity via short contracts, and limited influence over core academic matters.
• Bangladesh reports highlight absence of academic unions, weak or non-existent transparent service rules, and vulnerability to arbitrary decisions.
• Broader literature on private higher education notes that proprietary or mission-driven control can legitimately limit absolute academic freedom in favor of institutional identity, but this easily slides into self-censorship or marginalization of faculty voice when commercial or ideological pressures dominate.

“In many private universities, decision-making authority is concentrated in the hands of management and governing boards rather than academic leadership. While the Vice-Chancellor formally heads the institution, the role often becomes largely ceremonial, with strategic, financial, and operational control exercised by owners, trustees, or professional managers. Academic bodies such as the senate or faculty councils may review proposals, yet their influence is frequently limited to formal endorsement of decisions already shaped by managerial priorities. This structure reflects the commercial realities of private higher education, where sustainability, growth, and market positioning often take precedence over traditional models of shared academic governance.”

Why This Happens More Readily In The Private Sector: Private institutions must generate their own revenue. Survival and growth incentives favor rapid program launches, enrollment targets, cost control, and market signaling (rankings, employability metrics, branding). Academic processes that emphasize deliberation, peer review, and long-term scholarship can appear slow or costly. Shared governance traditions that developed in public or historically self-governing universities (Oxford/Cambridge-style academic control, or strong public-sector senates) are weaker or never fully transplanted.
At the same time, not every private university fits the critique. Some (certain mission-driven or philanthropically supported institutions) deliberately protect strong academic senates and faculty voice as part of quality and reputation strategies. Hybrid models—academic leadership paired with professional management and independent oversight—exist and are often held up as preferable.
Consequences, Counter-Arguments When Academics Become Rubber Stamps:
• Curriculum and research priorities skew toward short-term market demand or revenue.
• Quality assurance becomes Compliance Theater rather than genuine peer-driven standards.
• Academic freedom and critical inquiry shrink.
• Institutions risk becoming efficient credential factories rather than knowledge-creating communities.
Defenders of stronger management control argue that pure academic self-governance can produce inefficiency, resistance to change, and capture by internal interests. Private universities need agility; boards provide accountability to funders and external stakeholders that pure faculty control may lack. Effective systems separate strategic/financial oversight from day-to-day academic judgment while ensuring the latter retains real substance.
The healthier models keep academic bodies as the primary locus for teaching, research, and standards decisions, subject to clear financial envelopes and strategic frameworks set by boards—not the reverse. Transparent service rules, meaningful faculty representation, protection against arbitrary dismissal, and independent external quality assurance help prevent the rubber-stamp outcome.
The phrase in the query captures a real and recurring tension in private higher education worldwide: when ownership and managerial logic dominate without adequate academic counterweights, faculty risk being reduced to implementers rather than co-governors of the institution’s intellectual mission.
(The author is Principal, Guru Gobind Singh College of Management and Technology, Gidderbaha, Punjab. 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”)

uppalmlt@gmail.com

Dr. Ashraf Zainabi

Ask anyone in Kashmir when life will finally feel settled, and you will hear a sentence beginning with after.After the exams. After the job. After the daughter’s wedding. After the son finds his feet. We say it so often and so naturally that we forget it is a promise made to a future that never quite arrives. An ordinary life passes through four stages, and each has its own thirst.

(a) The Thirst For Education: The student asks, What can I become? Our homes are full of this hunger. A child’s marks are discussed in the kitchen, at weddings and over dinner. Coaching centres fill up, and parents sacrifice quietly so that a degree may open a door.The young person carries a silent belief: my real life will begin once I get through this. But life has already begun. The friendships, the curiosity, the late-night conversations and the freedom from serious responsibility are all happening now, and we call them preparation.

(b) The Thirst For Livelihood: Then comes work, and the question changes to How will I build my life?A secure job, a decent salary, a house and some savings become the measure of a settled existence. In a place where opportunities have never been plentiful, this pursuit is no vanity. It is a serious struggle, and it deserves respect.Yet here too the mind whispers, once I am secure, I will slow down. Security, however, has a curious habit. The moment we reach it, we see something further to secure.

(c) The Thirst For Belonging: Marriage and family follow, and with them the sweetest and heaviest years. There are children’s laughter, parents’ prayers, school fees, medical bills and a hundred obligations. Life becomes less about meand more about us.This is when happiness is postponed most gracefully, because we postpone it for people we love. Once the children settle, I will rest. And then, almost without warning, the children do settle. They grow tall, leave the house for university or work, and the rooms grow quiet.

(d) The Thirst For Meaning:  Retirement and old age bring the question we avoided for decades: What was it all for? The alarm clock falls silent and the daily rush ends. Time, which we always craved, arrives in abundance and sometimes feels heavy.This is the most neglected stage. We plan for education, careers and weddings, but rarely for the years when the question is no longer What should I achieve?but What should I do with the life I have left?Money helps, but it cannot answer that. Health, companionship, faith, purpose and a place in the community can. Look at the four stages together and a pattern appears. The student waits for a job, the worker waits for stability, the parent waits for the children to settle, and the elder wishes he had noticed the earlier years while they lasted.Each stage lives in the waiting room of the next.Ask elderly people what they miss and few will say a promotion or a bank balance. They will say the noise of a full house, the walk to school with friends, the first months of a small job, or a winter evening when the whole family sat in one room. Those moments felt ordinary then. Memory has made them golden.

 “True living means being fully present in every stage of life—student, worker, parent, or elder—rather than deferring happiness to future milestones. Just as Kashmir’s chinar tree embraces each season wholeheartedly, we must engage deeply in the present moment, as no stage of life can be lived twice.”

Psychologists suggest a reason. Unpleasant feelings tend to fade faster than pleasant ones, so the exam stress, the money worries and the sleepless nights soften, while the warmth remains. Distance is a generous editor. But it edits only after the moment has passed. So, coming back to the question, Is there really a perfect stage in ones life?People often ask which stage is the best. Students envy the earning, the earning envy the carefree, and the elderly envy the young. I do not think any stage wins. Each one gives something and takes something. Study offers freedom but little money. Work offers money but little time. Family offers belonging but little rest. Old age offers time but less energy.

There is some comfort in the research, too.

Many studies of life satisfaction across the world find a U-shaped curve, with contentment dipping in the busy middle years, read midlife squeeze theory, and rising again later. The finding is debated, but its message is hopeful: a well-lived old age, with health, relationships and purpose, can be happier than we fear. So perhaps the best stage of life is simply the one we are fully present in.This does not mean giving up ambition or planning. A student should study hard, a worker should build a career, and a parent should provide. It means doing all this while actually being there. For the student, it means enjoying learning and not only counting marks.

For the worker, it means leaving the office at some point and remembering that the family at home is not a project to finish later.  For the parent, it means sitting with the children today, because the house will not be noisy forever. For the elder, it means treating these years as a new beginning: teaching, writing, mentoring, praying, tending the garden, or simply being a presence in someone’s life. And for all of us, it means asking, occasionally and honestly: Am I here, or am I waiting? The Kashmir’s chinar tree gives us a lesson. Every autumn, the chinar trees of Kashmir turn gold and red. They do not hold back the colour for a better season. They do not wait for spring to be beautiful. Each season, the tree is wholly what that season asks of it. We could learn from that. Our green years of study, our summer of work, our golden autumn of family and our quiet winter of post retirement reflection. The perfect time to live is not after the degree, the job, the wedding or the retirement. The perfect time is the one stage we can never live twice.

(The author is Assistant Professor Design Innovation Centre –DIC Islamic University of Science & Technology (IUST) Awantipora, J&K. 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”)

bhatashraf@gmail.com

Once, during a conversation with a wise cleric, I heard something that stayed with me. He spoke about the difference between things that support life and those that destroy it. He observed that when organic matter accumulates, microorganisms thrive. But when birds or insects consume certain agricultural chemicals, they perish. His point was simple, yet it set me thinking about how we treat the land that feeds us.

For generations, farming in Kashmir remained closely connected with nature. Farmers used farmyard manure, fallen leaves, and decomposed plant material to enrich their fields. Organic matter was returned to the soil, ensuring the land could provide for successive generations. While farming had its difficulties, people depended on locally available resources and understood the value of maintaining soil fertility.

Today, things have changed considerably. The demand for higher yields, the expansion of horticulture, and the growing threat of pests have increased reliance on chemical fertilisers and pesticides. These products protect crops and make a real difference for orchardists whose livelihoods hang in the balance.

Yet, have we considered the cost of this growing dependence?

Walk through an apple orchard during spraying season, and one can see how closely modern horticulture is tied to chemical inputs. Farmers want healthy trees, but the effects of spraying do not stop at the targeted pest. Depending on the concentration and application method, beneficial insects and organisms are frequently harmed.

Furthermore, excessive use of fertilisers contributes to soil and water pollution, while careless handling puts farmers’ health at risk. These consequences deserve serious attention in a region where horticulture supports countless families.

At the same time, we have begun to neglect traditional safeguards. Organic manure and compost are often dismissed as old-fashioned, while chemical products are viewed as the quickest route to profit. Yet properly prepared organic matter improves soil structure, supports beneficial organisms, and maintains long-term fertility. This does not mean chemical fertilisers are inherently evil or that traditional methods can meet every modern demand.

 “Our orchards must provide a living without sacrificing long-term soil health. Sustainable agriculture requires moving away from heavy chemical dependence toward caring for the land so it can continue to feed future generations.”

Plants require nutrients, and mineral fertilisers supply them efficiently. The danger begins when farmers apply them without knowing what their soil actually needs, or use pesticides without proper guidance. More chemicals do not automatically mean a better harvest. In Kashmir, this question is crucial for apple growers. An orchard is more than a source of income; its productivity depends on healthy soil, adequate water, pollinating insects, and a functioning environment. If we protect the fruit while ignoring the conditions that make its production possible, we weaken the foundation of our own agriculture.  Farmers should not be shouldering the blame alone. They face rising costs, erratic weather, and the constant fear of crop failure, often relying on chemicals because they believe no alternative exists.

The responsibility also lies with agricultural departments and experts to provide timely advice, encourage routine soil testing, and help farmers adopt safer, more economical practices.  A balanced approach would combine the sensible use of mineral nutrients with organic manure, compost, and Integrated Pest Management (IPM) to reduce unnecessary spraying. Such changes require awareness, support, and patience, but they protect both livelihoods and ecosystems. I often return to the cleric’s observation. He was not discussing agricultural policy; he was looking at life from a human perspective: what happens to our surroundings when we introduce toxic elements? His words remind us that the benefits we seek should not make us indifferent to the damage we cause.

Our orchards must produce enough to support us, but the land cannot be treated merely as a machine. It needs nourishment and care.  The soil that feeds us today must remain capable of feeding our children tomorrow. We do not need to reject every chemical, but we must stop treating chemical dependence as our only path to progress. Are our agricultural practices helping life flourish, or are we allowing the pursuit of a better harvest to harm the very environment on which our survival depends?

(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”)

aqibiqbal192@gmail.com

The flowerpots I received as gifts after delivering a few expert talks recently taught me an unexpected lesson about life, personal growth and the importance of the right environment. What initially appeared to be a simple gesture of appreciation eventually became a powerful reminder of how our surroundings can influence our potential.

After reaching home, I carefully placed the flowerpots inside the rooms and tried to keep the plants alive by watering them regularly. Since the plants were fresh, they remained beautiful for a few days. I assumed that providing water and keeping them safe indoors would be enough. After all, what more could a plant possibly need?

However, slowly and gradually, the plants began to lose their freshness. Their leaves started looking dull, and the flowers showed signs of decay. Despite my attempts to care for them, their condition continued to deteriorate. Eventually, my children decided to shift the pots outside. One of them was placed near a window where it could receive sunlight and fresh air. And then, something wonderful happened!

The plants began to recover. Their leaves looked healthier, and new flowers started sprouting. The same plants that had struggled inside the rooms began showing signs of life when exposed to a more suitable environment. Watching this transformation, I found myself reflecting on a simple but powerful thought: sometimes, what we need is not more care, but the right environment to grow. Perhaps the plants were not weak. Perhaps they were simply in the wrong place.

This small observation opened the doors to several bigger questions. How many individuals struggle not because they lack talent, intelligence or commitment, but because they remain confined to environments that limit their growth? How many students, professionals and aspiring entrepreneurs have the potential to flourish but are never given enough freedom, exposure or opportunity? The answers, I believe, can be found in our everyday lives.

I have been living away from my home in Tral, Kashmir, for the last 16 years. This journey has given me opportunities to interact with people from different backgrounds, understand different perspectives, experience professional challenges and learn lessons that cannot always be acquired within the familiar boundaries of home.

Living away from home is not always easy. It brings its own share of struggles, loneliness, responsibilities, disappointments and uncertainties. There are moments when we miss our families, familiar surroundings, language, local food and the comfort of being among people who understand us without requiring lengthy explanations. Sometimes, even a simple cup of tea with family feels more valuable than an expensive dinner elsewhere! However, stepping outside our familiar surroundings also teaches us independence. We learn to make decisions, manage resources, solve problems, accept differences and deal with situations that do not always go according to plan.

 “I have been living away from my home in Tral, Kashmir, for the last 16 years. This journey has given me opportunities to interact with people from different backgrounds, understand different perspectives, experience professional challenges and learn lessons that cannot always be acquired within the familiar boundaries of home.”

Over the years, I have also observed friends who moved outside their hometowns and comfort zones. Many developed remarkable confidence, adaptability and resilience. They learned to face professional setbacks, celebrate achievements without becoming complacent and manage uncertainty with greater maturity.

Of course, geographical distance alone does not guarantee personal growth. A person can travel across continents and still refuse to learn anything new. Similarly, someone can remain in their hometown and continue to explore the world through ideas, relationships and experiences. The real difference lies not in how far we travel, but in how willing we are to move beyond what we already know.

When we remain confined to the same surroundings, the same people and the same routines, we may gradually begin to believe that the world is no bigger than what we already know. Stepping outside challenges these assumptions. It introduces us to different ways of thinking, working and living. Every new experience has something to teach us. Some experiences bring success and confidence; others bring disappointment and humility. Both are valuable. Success teaches us what may work, while failure often teaches us what needs to change.

Just like plants, human beings need nourishment. But our nourishment comes not only from food and shelter; it also comes from experiences, challenges, relationships, freedom and opportunities to discover our potential. Sometimes, all we need is a change of surroundings, a new responsibility, a different conversation or the courage to try something unfamiliar.

We must remember that being comfortable is not always the same as growing. A familiar environment may protect us from uncertainty, but it may also prevent us from discovering our strengths. My flowerpots reminded me that growth cannot always be forced through additional effort. Sometimes, the answer is to change the conditions in which that effort is being made.

The same plant that struggled inside a room began to flourish when it received sunlight. Perhaps we, too, need to identify the environments that nourish us and have the courage to move away from those that restrict us. Give yourself permission to explore, learn, make mistakes and grow. Sometimes, the first step towards transformation is simply stepping outside. And this lesson has another important dimension—one that extends far beyond personal life and reaches directly into our workplaces, leadership practices and organisational cultures.

(The author is Associate Professor at the Department of Management, President Institution’s Innovation Council, ITM Gwalior and an IIMA (FDP) Alumnus. He is also certified Business Consultant of AIMA. 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.shahidamin15@gmail.com

There was a time when a room could tell us something about the person who lived in it. A lawyer had law books, a student had textbooks and novels, a teacher had shelves filled with history and literature, and a poet kept collections of poetry close at hand. A personal library was never merely a collection of objects. It was a visible record of curiosity, education, memory and choice. Today, that quiet feature of our homes is slowly disappearing. The bookshelf is being replaced by the smart phone, Google has become the reference desk, YouTube has become the classroom, and artificial intelligence can

produce an explanation before we have even finished forming the question. Technology has made knowledge easier to reach, but it has also forced us to ask a difficult question: what happens when a society keeps access to information but loses its relationship with books?

The disappearance of the personal library is not really about paper versus screens. It is about the way we understand knowledge. Earlier, a person might buy a book because they wanted to understand a subject. The book could remain on a shelf for years, waiting to be opened again. Today, we often search for information only when a problem appears. We read an answer, close the page and move to the next task. The information may be correct, but the relationship with it is temporary. We have more information than any previous generation, yet information and understanding are not the same thing.  Walk through a second-hand book market and this change becomes strangely visible.  Books that once occupied respectable places inside homes, classrooms and offices now lie in piles on pavements. Some have yellow pages. Some carry the names of former owners. Others contain handwritten notes, dates, underlined sentences and old photographs. Every mark tells a small story.

A book may have belonged to a student who struggled through an examination, a professor who spent years teaching from it, or a parent who bought it for a child. Now the same book may be judged within seconds by its price. We may bargain over thirty or fifty rupees for a book while spending hundreds or thousands on devices and subscriptions that deliver information instantly.

The question is not whether technology is expensive. The question is what we are willing to spend money and time on: convenience or understanding.

Google transformed the way people find information. Artificial intelligence is transforming it again. A difficult concept can now be explained in seconds. A long document can be summarised.

A complicated topic can be organised into simple points. These developments have enormous value, especially for students and researchers who previously lacked easy access to educational resources. But they create a new intellectual temptation. Why read fifty pages when a summary can be produced in seconds? Why struggle with a difficult argument when a machine can simplify it? Why make notes when software can organise them? The danger does not lie in using these tools. The danger lies in allowing convenience to replace intellectual effort.  Learning requires more than receiving an answer. Sometimes the struggle to understand is itself part of education. A personal library possessed another quality that the digital world rarely provides: silence. A book does not send notifications. It does not recommend another video after you finish a page. It does not compete with messages, advertisements and endless scrolling. It simply waits. That silence creates space for sustained attention. Deep reading allows a person to stay with an argument, notice contradictions, question assumptions and connect ideas that may initially appear unrelated. These are

not minor skills. They are essential to serious study, legal reasoning, journalism, research and responsible citizenship. When every moment of boredom is immediately filled by a screen, we may also be losing the quiet periods in which difficult questions are allowed to develop.

 “Physical personal libraries—unlike fleeting digital histories—serve as lasting records of our intellectual curiosity, questions, and personal growth. Rebuilding them preserves tangible evidence of what we chose to understand.”

A physical book also carries memory in a way a digital file often cannot. A name written on the first page can tell us who owned it. A date can tell us when it entered a person’s life. A folded corner can reveal where someone stopped reading. A handwritten sentence can preserve a thought from years

earlier. A ticket or photograph forgotten between pages can suddenly bring an entire period of life back to memory. A digital document can store information, but a physical book can store traces of a person. That is why books are often passed from one generation to another. They become small pieces of

intellectual inheritance. This raises another question that deserves more attention: what will our children inherit?

A smart phone will eventually be replaced. A laptop will stop working. A password may be forgotten. A subscription may expire. A cloud account may disappear. A physical book, however, can remain on a shelf for decades. It can move from parent to child, from teacher to student, or from one friend to

another. It can carry a dedication, a signature or a personal note. A family library can therefore become a record of generations. It tells a child not only what information was available, but what the people before them considered worth reading. None of this means that we should romanticise the past or reject technology. Earlier generations also faced limited access to education and literature. Digital technology has made books, research papers, lectures and educational material available to millions of people who could never have built large physical libraries.

A smart phone can genuinely function as a library. Artificial intelligence can help a student understand a difficult legal principle. The problem begins when the tool designed to help learning becomes a substitute for learning.  Technology should expand our intellectual capacity, not reduce our willingness to think. Perhaps this is why the personal library still matters. It does not need to contain hundreds of books. Ten carefully chosen books can be more meaningful than five hundred unread volumes. Keep books that challenge your beliefs. Keep books that changed your thinking. Keep books you disagree with. Keep books you have not yet understood. Keep books given to you by people who mattered.  Over time, those books become more than possessions. They become a record of intellectual growth. They show what you once believed, what you questioned and what you eventually learned.

Books have survived radio, television, cinema and the internet. Their survival does not depend on whether technology disappears. It depends on whether people continue to value the experience of reading, owning and returning to them. The real tragedy would not be that books become old. Books have always aged. The tragedy would be if we stop reeding them. One day, someone may enter our home after we are gone. They may find photographs, clothes, documents and electronic devices. But will they find evidence of what we thought about? Will they find books carrying our names, our notes and our questions? Will they discover the subjects we loved, the ideas we challenged and the arguments that changed us? Or will our intellectual lives exist mainly behind passwords, subscriptions and disappearing digital histories? The books are still there. They are waiting in second-hand markets, old cupboards, college libraries and forgotten shelves. The world has never had greater access to knowledge. Yet perhaps the most important question is not whether the personal library has disappeared. It is whether we are willing to build one again. A personal library is not simply a shelf of books. It is a collection of questions, a private classroom, a record of curiosity and a physical reminder that we once chose what we wanted to understand.

(The author is a Lawyer by profession. The views, opinions and conclusions expressed in this article are those of the authors and aren’t necessarily in accord with the views of “Kashmir Horizon”)

ariflone854@gmail.com

Every time a girl child is born, the world receives a vibrant promise of leadership, innovation,and positive societal transformation. Across theological, cultural, and humanistic traditions,she is celebrated as a source of strength, wisdom, and life itself. The status of girls and women has been understood differently across religious and historical traditions, and it is important to distinguish religious teachings from social customs practiced in particular societies. Islam gave girls and women recognized rights to education, inheritance, property, marriage consent and dignity, while emphasizing kindness and protection of daughters. Hinduism contains diverse traditions and texts, with the feminine principle often revered as Shakti, although the historical social position of girls varied considerably across periods and communities. Christianity emphasizes the equal spiritual worth of men and women before God and highlights the dignity, compassion and protection of children. Judaism similarly places importance on family, moral education and the dignity of every person, though traditional gender roles have varied among Jewish communities. Buddhism teaches compassion and the potential of all beings for spiritual development, while the position and roles of women have differed across Buddhist traditions and historical societies. Sikhism strongly emphasizes equality between men and women and rejects discrimination based on gender. Overall, major religions contain teachings affirming human dignity and moral responsibility toward girls, while actual social conditions have often been shaped by culture, historical circumstances and local customs as much as by religion. To invest in a girl is to invest in the flourishing of entire communities and future generations.
As we celebrate the International Day of the Girl Child on October 11, 2026, the global community unites around an empowering mandate: “End child marriage and invest in girls’ rights.” This day serves as a beacon of progress, highlighting the incredible achievements of young women and renewing our collective commitment to unlocking their full potential worldwide. The history of the International day of the girl child traces back to 1995, when the world conference on women in Beijing unanimously adopted the landmark Beijing declaration and platform for action – the most progressive blueprint for advancing women’s and girls’ rights in history, building on this momentum, the non-governmental organization plan international launched the “because i am a girl” campaign, which mobilized worldwide support to establish a dedicated global observance for young women. recognizing the unique issues facing girls and the necessity of advocating for their rights globally, the united nations general assembly formally adopted resolution 66/170 on December 19, 2011, officially declaring October 11 as the international day of the girl child. since its inaugural celebration in 2012, this annual platform led by UNICEF, civil society partners and youth activists worldwide has elevated critical dialogues on education, child marriage, violence prevention, and girls’ leadership into mainstream policy agendas.
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“A girl child is not a promise waiting to be fulfilled, but a powerhouse of potential transforming the world today. Give her the wings of education and equal rights, and she will lead humanity into a brighter tomorrow.”
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A Legacy of Honor, Wisdom, Equality: The inherent value and equal dignity of the girl child have deep roots in our shared history and spiritual heritage:
(A) Spiritual Equality And Elevation: Long before modern legislative rights were penned, scriptural traditions revolutionized society’s view of women. Islam elevated the status of daughters by condemning female infanticide, declaring men and women as “twin halves” born from a single soul, and promising Paradise to parents who cherish, educate, and care for their daughters. Visionary figures like Khadija (R.A.), Aisha (R.A.), and Fatima (R.A.) exemplified female leadership in entrepreneurship, scholarship, and community governance.
(B) Vedic Reverence: In ancient Hindu traditions, texts like the laws of Manu famously highlighted that honoring women brings divine grace and prospering households. The presence and participation of girls were recognized as essential to spiritual harmony and family strength. Across cultures, the underlying truth remains unchanged: a girl child is a source of immense pride, intellectual power, and moral guidance.
Turning Potential into Progress| The 2026 Mandate: Building on this rich heritage, global initiatives today are actively creating safer, more inclusive environments for girls to thrive. The 2026 theme- “End child marriage and invest in girls’ rights”- is a forward-looking roadmap to accelerate opportunities and break down historical barriers:
(I) Unlocking Opportunities Through Education: By ensuring uninterrupted access to quality schooling, STEM training, and digital skills, young girls are stepping into leadership roles as scientists, entrepreneurs, and thinkers.
(Ii) Protecting Dignity And Autonomy: Stronger legal frameworks and community-led initiatives are actively curbing early marriages and protecting young girls from violence, ensuring they can decide their own paths.
(iii) Nurturing Supportive Families: Parents, guardians, and local mentors are stepping up as champions of equality, recognizing that a well-guided and cherished daughter brings honor and prosperity to the whole household.
(iv) Amplifying Youth Leadership: Platforms created by UNICEF and civil society partners are allowing young girls to participate in policy design, shaping local solutions and global innovation.
A Bright Horizon Ahead: A world where every girl child is educated, protected, and empowered is a world of limitless potential. She is not a problem to be solved, but an active partner in progress, a leader of today, and an architect of a brighter tomorrow. The horizon shines brightly with the unstoppable momentum of empowered girls who lead classrooms, innovate in labs, and champion change in their communities. Every step taken to honor a girl’s rights, educate her mind, and protect her dignity accelerates a global transformation, proving that a girl child is the ultimate catalyst for human progress. By surrounding her with unwavering trust and opportunity, society guarantees a brilliant, resilient, and prosperous future where every girl rises without limits.
( Dr.Afreen Niyaz is Assistant Professor Home Science at Govt Women’s College Srinagar and Dr Bilal A Bhat Professor & Head (Agri. Econ & Statistics, FOA at S K University Of Agriculture Sciences & Technology Kashmir SKUAST-K, Srinagar, J&K. The views, opinions and conclusions expressed in this article are those of the authors and aren’t necessarily in accord with the views of “Kashmir Horizon”)
bhat_bilal@rediffmail.com