“I feel so bad for myself and Muhammad (1 month old, cousin),” whispered the ten -year -old Fatima when she clung to her mother. “We haven’t seen anything yet … and the world has already ended, is that true Amma?” Farah, 36 (name changed) told the anxious mental state that her child goes through. In Jammu & Kashmir, grief does not always announce with shots. Sometimes it mumbles too young from a child’s lips to fully understand the war, but already burdened it by its weight.
People in Jammu and Kashmir cry for help from control over the fragile lines of intellectual well -being. What was once called on earth now fluctuates on the edge of hell – especially for those who live along the borders. You pay the price of belonging to this country at every level. Some of her wounds are visible; Most remain buried under layers of silence, dust and emotional deafness.
How did we get here?
When India and Pakistan once again, the two nuclear neighbors came up with the worst violence after the militant attack on April 22nd in Pahalgam, Kaschmir, a series of Titate threats that led to a new event in the history of Jammu and Kashmir.
Photo by Suhaib Bhat
When India and Pakistan fight dangerously close to the confrontation again, a silent epidemic spread through the heart of Jammu & Kashmir – not from balls or bombs, but of fear, insomnia, panic and hopelessness. The psychological health crisis in the valley deteriorates with every risk of war, any explanation of “red alarm” and every night in anxious uncertainty.
Kaschmir has experienced decades of turbulence, but every new tip in Indo-PAK stresses presses its residents closer to the mental border. For people in this region – young and old, driven out and rooted – the risk of war is not only geopolitical. It is deeply personal. And it is deeply traumatic.
“We left more than just one house … We left our dreams,” says Ahmad from Uri in Kashmir. In Uri Life Ahmad (23) and his cousin Ume Rahman (25) with relatives in Budgam and have fled their house again.
“Whenever things are tense,” said Ahmad, “we are forced to leave everything back – our home, our things, the things my mother collected over time. Now we don’t even know what condition our house is in. ‘
Umer adds: “Our studies suffer. My books, my notes – they are back there. In short, we didn’t just leave our house. We left our dreams that we hoped to live. ‘
This forced postponement always creates a trauma loop – which prepares the loss of stability and efforts every time.
This forced postponement always creates a trauma loop – which prepares the loss of stability and efforts every time.
“What does such a life use – no home, no peace?” says Taranum from Poonch in Kashmir.
In Poonch, the 42-year-old Taranum (the name changed) had to vacate her house with her family and children to look for refuge in a nearby village in which they have no relatives.
“Kal Ko Marna Hai, Aaj Hi Mar Jayein Toh Kya Farq Pastta Hai?” (“If we want to die tomorrow, why not today? What good is a life like this – no home, no peace?”), She said bitterly. “We packed and left, but we don’t even know if we will surely reach. Our only mistake is that we were born in this country. ‘
Her words reflect a feeling that was felt in the Kashmir -Valley – existential tiredness, a fatigue that goes beyond grief. It is desperately rooted in a life of uncertainty.
“I just try to get my children to safety by saying that it says crackers,” says Shamim, a 28-year-old mother of three children from Jammu, who came to her village with her children for the wedding of her brother-in-law. “But what a celebration should be quickly turned into a nightmare.
“I don’t have a place where I can go,” she said, clinging over her youngest. “I’m not stuck anywhere. I don’t even know what’s going on. I just try to protect my children by telling them that the sounds from the wedding are crackers. ‘
Source: Fii
Her trembling voice speaks for a reality that many LOC families experience – are stranded, are not sure whether they should flee or stay without knowing whether the next news warning will bring a ceasefire or a disaster.
“Although I am in a safe place, my whole life is at risk,” says Farah, 36 (name changed), who lives in Srinagar, but is worried about her husband and parents -in -law in Jammu.
“Although I’m in a safe place, my whole life is at risk. What will you do? Where can you hide? Jammu is a broader area – it’s not as if you can escape and hide. Last night was a nightmare. I could not reach my husband and Jammu was under red alert. ‘
The trauma of distance, the helplessness is no less powerful than the trauma of physical violence. For many like Farah, it’s not just about their own security, but about the fate of their loved ones.
A crisis in Kashmir hidden behind headlines
Since the national news editors discuss the military strategy and political consequences, human costs are often buried under headlines.
Since the national news editors discuss the military strategy and political consequences, human costs are often buried under headlines.
The children who flinch together with every loud sound, the students whose dreams disintegrate with every evacuation, the mothers who whispered their children comforting lies, the elderly people who feel abandoned by the country they have never left, and the countless others who ask themselves: “How many people should call today to check whether they are still breathing? ‘
Photo by Suhaib Bhat
Not every wound is bleeding in the war. Some can be deep in the psyche and linger over generations.
A plea from the valley of the sky turned into hell overnight
People in Kashmir do not ask for wonder. You demand to live without fearing your next breath. They demand to study, love, to sleep and dream without the constant sum of the threat in the background.
They ask that they are not statistics in conflicts, but people with spirit who are worth protecting protection.
And maybe they ask the world above all to hear their quiet screams – not only when the bombs fall, but also in the following quiet moments when the spirit refuses to rest, and peace remains a distant hope.
It is a fundamental human right to know peace to have spiritual mental health. A world in which children hunt butterflies and do not flee from the sound of shots.