Sadiya Mehraj, a philosophy undergraduate student in Srinagar’s Women’s College, is always in awe of her grandmother’s wisdom. Despite never having attended school or a ‘darsgah’, her grandmother has a verse for every situation or occasion, which to her is simply a memory from the past. To Sadiya, however, these verses hold much greater significance.
“The verses touch on everything from existentialism and capitalism to agriculture and poetry. She just doesn’t realise the depth of her own wisdom because, to her, it all seems ordinary,” Sadiya says.
Sadiya experienced glimpses of this philosophical temperament from her grandmother from time to time, ever since she began living with her at the age of nine.
That year, she and her mother, who had just given birth to another child, moved to her maternal home, only for a curfew to be announced, leaving the family struggling for basic necessities like diapers and baby food.
“One day, a protest broke out right outside our gate. The army fired, and a bullet struck our roof. We quickly moved my brother and my mother to the lobby to keep them safe, but a bullet struck my uncle that day, and he passed away,” she recalls.
In the 19th century, the modern world was boldly acknowledged to be suffering from uncertainty and vulnerability, leading to a long battle to answer the big questions of existence and carve out a way to live a meaningful life. In a region like Kashmir, where conflict has spawned generations of traumatised youth, lives have been ravaged by the spectre of death, detention, and disappearances. Minds are scarred by the anguish of a perpetual state of siege, making the situation even more precarious.
Once a cradle of intellect, Kashmir boasted a rich legacy of philosophical thought. Now, however, with its people walking through life in survival mode, with broken bones, lingering scars, and memories scarred by pain, they navigate life crippled by the absence of the philosophical temperament that once thrived in the region. Philosophy could have not only contextualised the problems Kashmiris face today – such as anxiety and addiction – but also provided a broader and more meaningful way out of this disorienting abyss. However, the tradition of philosophy is now suffocating under the covert control of censorship, unable to provide the solace or insight it once could.
Distraught by the loss, Sadiya’s family decided that her mother and the new baby would return home. Sadiya stayed back with her grandmother.
“It was suffocating to live away from my mother and baby brother, but it was the only option we had,” she says.
Later, in school, Sadiya says, she was always a step ahead in social sciences. The conversations she had with her grandmother to pass the time would often turn out to be the lessons she’d later learn in school.
“I learned about communism when my grandmother explained the Communist Party’s flag. Although she described it in Kashmiri, making it somewhat unclear at the time, I later realised, when I read Karl Marx in school, that I had known about it all along.”
Conflict’s toll
Although it was initially difficult for her to adapt to the new place and make new friends, she found refuge in her grandmother, who did everything she could to keep Sadiya happy. It was during another curfew in 2016, which shuttered schools across the valley for six months, that Sadiya first met her best friend Ifra at a voluntary school. These schools were set up by young graduates across the valley to provide free education and help students make up for the academic losses incurred during the prolonged curfew.
Ifra, who battles depression, was unable to continue her studies. Her first encounter with a curfew dates back to 2010, when she was in second grade.
“Our school had organised a picnic for us on one Monday, so I had all my supplies packed and stored in the fridge by Saturday. But then, a curfew was announced. What was meant to be a one-day curfew stretched into weeks, then months. Eventually, tired of my mother’s reassurances, I threw away all the snacks,” she recalls.
That year was particularly tough for Ifra, as she had recently lost her father in an accident. Her grief manifested in aggressive behaviour and frequent loss of composure. With soldiers stationed at the main gate of her house, she was confined indoors. Over time, her anger gave way to fear.
Photo: Muzammil Bashir
“As I watched the news and saw reports of deaths and arrests, I got scared for my loved ones. Having already lost my father, the fear of losing more people was overwhelming. I would often cry in secret,” she recalls.
Both friends experienced a childhood overshadowed by turmoil, as the valley was engulfed in protests, rallies, and demonstrations. Beginning with the 2008 outcry over the transfer of land to Amarnath Shrine Boards, people began taking matters into their own hands, taking to the streets in protest against innocent killings, fake encounters, unlawful detentions and rapes which continued over the next decade. These events led to severe bloodshed and caused deep-seated trauma among those who witnessed them.
Due to their shared trauma, the friendship between Sadiya and Ifra deepened after their brief time together at the school. After high school, they both joined the same tuition centre to prepare for the NEET exam. Despite having diverse interests, they chose to pursue a medical degree, influenced by their families, hoping to secure admission to medical school. However, fate had other plans. The valley experienced a complete internet blackout from August 2019 to January 2020, followed by a partial restoration with 2G internet. Authorities only restored 4G services after nearly 18 months, making it one of the longest internet shutdowns in the world. This led to another lockdown, plunging the duo into a prolonged struggle with isolation and hopelessness.
Deprived of all means of communication, students were unable to fill out or submit examination forms online. Some never even discovered that they had passed exams or been shortlisted for job interviews, while others faced immense difficulties continuing their studies with the limited material available at home or borrowed from friends.
“A photocopy shop operated from home, printing notes for students. One of my teachers even delivered them to my house as the 12th-grade board exams approached, and we had barely attended any lectures,” Sadiya recalls.
The first recorded instance in the former state of Jammu and Kashmir occurred on January 26, 2012. Since then, the now Union Territory has experienced the highest number of internet shutdowns in India, including three of the four longest in the country.
“Classes briefly resumed in February, only to be halted indefinitely a month later due to the pandemic,” recalls Ifra.
That same year, she fell into severe depression and attempted to take her life, after which she was forced to quit her studies and begin medication.
It was reported that after the reading down of Article 370 in 2019, the UT witnessed a spike, with over 450 cases of suicide which was the highest in a decade.
Unable to secure admission to a medical college, Sadiya enrolled in a Philosophy bachelor’s degree programme at a government college. Having been pushed from one lockdown to another, she had hoped that college would bring some respite. However, with the first semester falling during the COVID-19 pandemic, the subsequent years were marred by shortened academic terms due to managerial issues and insufficient staff.
“It wasn’t an easy decision for me to take up Philosophy as my major, given my medical background. But after researching, I found that it aligned with my interests, and I was ready to take the risk,” Sadiya recalls. But it was a decision she would come to regret.
The mundane and restrictive nature of her college experience fell drastically short of her expectations leaving her feeling uninspired. Now, her only goal is to convince her parents to let her move to Delhi for a Master’s degree in Philosophy, hoping that the city will open new doors and provide the opportunities her current environment sorely lacks.
“I missed out on a conventional school experience, and college was no different. I chose Philosophy to seek answers, engage in meaningful discussions, and develop a clear sense of right and wrong,” Sadiya explains. “However none of my expectations were met. With this limited experience, I feel unprepared to make a meaningful impact in the world,” she admits.
Her parents, on the other hand, expect her to apply for government positions – a common path for middle-class Kashmiri whose children cannot secure spots in the highly competitive NEET and JEE exams. To make matters worse, frequent cancellations, irregularities, and malpractices by the agencies conducting these examinations have made securing even the most basic jobs a distant dream.
With thousands of vacant posts in various government departments, the unemployment rate in the Union Territory of Jammu and Kashmir stands at a staggering 18.3%, compared to the national average of 8.
Ifra, on the other hand plans to move to Qatar for a job. She hopes to take her friend with her, an offer Sadiya politely refuses.
“It’s suffocating for me to live here with the same memories and the cycle of suffering repeating over and over. I want to leave quickly and start earning,” says Ifra, who has been seeing a doctor for over a year but sees no improvement in her condition.
With the highest rate of depression in the country, according to a study, ‘Life in conflict: Characteristics of Depression in Kashmir’, published by the International Journal of Health Services, the prevalence of depression in Kashmir is 55.72%. The highest is 66.67% in the 15 to 25 age group, followed by 65.33% in the 26 to 35 age group.
Angst to addiction
Viktor E. Frankl, a professor of neurology and psychiatry at the University of Vienna Medical School, is renowned for his psychological memoir, Man’s Search for Meaning. In this work, he recounts his experiences in Auschwitz and explains that many mental health issues might be manifestations of “existential angst” , a term originally coined by Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard.
In the modern world, already marked by nihilism, suicidal ideation, existential despair, and addiction, the Kashmiri population bears the additional burden of decades of relentless conflict. Born into a culture where learned individuals were revered more than the wealthy, and the quest for knowledge was held in the highest regard, their angst was profound.
The quest for knowledge and poetic expression was overshadowed by the struggle for survival, and as the conflict intensified, the societal framework that once supported intellectual and artistic pursuits disintegrated. With death constantly looming and casting a long shadow over their lives, the youth found themselves plunged into a state of deep despair.
Frankl argues that in the absence of meaning, people attempt to fill the void with the pursuit of power or pleasure. He identified the ‘neurotic triad’ of depression, addiction, and aggression that afflicts society if there’s a widespread inability to find purpose. Other psychologists too have linked addiction to a diminished sense of meaning resulting in individuals turning to substances to fill the existential vacuum.
In his 2009 work, ‘In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts’, Gabor Maté challenges the view of addiction as merely a series of poor choices or a clinical issue confined to biology and psychology. Instead, he frames addiction as a complex human condition deeply intertwined with emotional pain and trauma. Maté argues that addiction frequently arises to fill a void left by a lack of meaningful connections, a sense of purpose, or spiritual emptiness.
As of 2023, there are approximately one million officially designated drug addicts in Kashmir. Heroin, often referred to as “the drug of choice,” is the most consumed drug, in stark contrast to the rest of India, where alcohol consumption is more prevalent. This preference for heroin has contributed to a significant increase in deaths due to overdoses and drug-related homicides.
Photo: Muzammil Bashir
Yasir Rather, a professor in the Department of Psychiatry at Government Medical College, Jammu and Kashmir, states, “Conflict brings uncertainties, trauma, financial stressors, and a lack of recreational facilities. The conflict scenario in Kashmir contributes significantly to this growing menace.”
According to a report in The Hindu, an average adult living in the Kashmir Valley has witnessed or experienced 7.7 traumatic events over their lifetime.
A philosophical approach
A report by the National Human Rights Commission of India on May 21, 2004, says that 20,000 people have attempted to die by suicide in the 14 years of socio-political unrest in Kashmir, from 1990 to 2004. Of these, 3,000 attempts resulted in death, mostly among those aged 16 to 25. Alarmingly, a December 2023 report by the National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB) revealed that out of 1,769 suicide cases recorded nationwide, 497 were from Jammu and Kashmir alone.
The problem of suicide was extensively dealt with and discussed by many existentialists, but most importantly by the 20th-century philosopher Albert Camus, who called suicide “the only one serious philosophical problem” in his essay ‘The Myth of Sisyphus’. Camus’ insights find relevance in Kashmir, where the conflict has often pushed individuals to grapple with a sense of absurdity and meaninglessness. While Camus encouraged people to accept the inherent meaninglessness in life and become an Absurd hero, in Kashmir, this struggle is intensified by the pervasive trauma and instability that pervade daily life.
[If you know someone – friend or family member – at risk of suicide, please reach out to them. The Suicide Prevention India Foundation maintains a list of telephone numbers they can call to speak in confidence. Icall, a counselling service run by TISS, has maintained a crowdsourced list of therapists across the country. You could also take them to the nearest hospital.]
In response to the modern world’s anxieties, alienation, and uncertainties, Existentialism, a philosophical movement emerging in the wake of the World Wars, prompts us to confront the fundamental realities of human existence while helping us recognise that although life is often filled with pain and adversity, yet, the struggles uniquely our own are part of the greater human experience.
It urges us to embrace the beauty of our existence, even amidst chaos and complexity in an ever-changing world. For Kashmiris, navigating these themes is not merely academic but a lived reality, shaped by the ongoing strife and adversities of their environment.
“Don’t return to philosophy as a task-master, but as patients seek out relief in a treatment of sore eyes, or a dressing for a burn, or from an ointment. Regarding it this way, you’ll obey reason without putting it on display and rest easy in its care,” says the philosopher and emperor Marcus Aurelius in his work Meditations written during the last decade of his life while on the battlefield after a plague killed eight of his children and would later take his life too.
Philosophy provides comfort not by offering easy solutions but by acknowledging the inevitability of suffering and the complexity of the human condition. It provides a way to find value, will, and compassion even when life offers no other options. In moments of crisis, when we are forced to confront the tragedies of existence, philosophy invites us to accept, understand, and ultimately transcend our circumstances.
Kashmir’s intellectual zenith and its subsequent nadir
Commonly referred to as the “paradise on earth,” Kashmir is celebrated for its breathtaking beauty – a reputation that often overshadows another significant aspect of its identity as the ‘pir vaer’ or ‘ryesh vaer’, meaning ‘abode of seers.’ This lesser-known designation highlights Kashmir’s rich history as a sanctuary for saints, rishis, and sufis, making it a vibrant centre of philosophical thought, spirituality, and mysticism. In Hindu scriptures, Kashmir is revered as “Sharda Peeth,” the seat of Sharda, the goddess of wisdom and learning. Despite its geographical isolation, the presence of followers from three major religions – Islam, Buddhism, and Hinduism – has ensured that Kashmir’s philosophical landscape has remained fluid, syncretic, and vibrant.
From being the centre for Buddhist studies and being an emerging ground for Kashmiri Shaivism to providing a fertile ground for discourses in Sufism, Kashmir, since its inception has fostered philosophical exchanges and spiritual engagement, leaving behind a rich philosophical temperament. All the philosophies that emerged from Kashmir emphasised on developing a personal relationship with the Divine and fostering brotherhood and unity through discourse and persuasion. The journey towards enlightenment is seen as a unique, individual experience of spiritual progress and self-purification, culminating in self- realisation and expanded consciousness.
The search for divine wisdom was paramount in every tradition. But in Kashmir, the sense of loss is particularly felt by the older generation, who can be often found contemplating, detached from the rapidly changing world and strictly refusing to embrace modern gadgets for personal entertainment. Instead, older men immerse themselves in literature, while women pass down poetry and stories to their grandchildren reminiscing the glorious past.
Unfortunately, the younger generation lack both the environment and the motivation to explore their philosophical interests. Despite Kashmir’s once-rich and vibrant legacy, the ongoing conflict has rendered the region almost barren of philosophical discourse. It is not an exaggeration to say that the restrictions imposed have led to the death of debate in a valley once renowned for its intellectual exchanges.
Photo: Muzammil Bashir
Xuan Sang, the 7th century monk, traveller and translator, famous for his 16-year pilgrimage to India in order to acquire sacred Buddhist texts, mentioned in his memoir that “no learned person was considered academically mature till he had participated in debates and discourse with scholars of Kashmir.”
Abdul Hameed, 72, a retired professor of philosophy in Kashmir, reflects on his experience at a study circle established in 1973 by a group of young men in Hazratbal, Anantnag.
“My passion for philosophy was ignited by that library. Iqbaliyat and Karl Marx were frequent topics of discussion during our Sunday gatherings.”
This library was one of the 700 destroyed in the 1979 arson, an act of sectarian violence following persistent threats from authorities accusing them of links with anti-national elements – accusations the young men chose to ignore.
“We and our teachers had managed to acquire valuable literature over the years, but it was all reduced to ashes in a single day,” Hameed reminisces.
With authorities always on the hunt for ‘anti-national elements’, youth have refrained from engaging in debates even on social media let alone establishing study circles, support groups or any other forms of organisations. Notably, the bank accounts of several NGOs and trusts run by local Masjid committees were seized following raids and the detentions since the reading down of Article 370. These accounts remain frozen to this day. These trusts served a large number of beneficiaries, including widows, healthcare cases, education fees, and marriage assistance.
In 2020, a wave of crackdowns targeted over 300 social media users, who were summoned by the Srinagar-based Cyber Wing of the J&K Police. Following these actions, dozens of accounts either vanished or ceased posting ‘objectionable’ content. While the officer in charge stated in an Article 14 interview that the arrests were ‘not political’ and ‘had nothing to do with politics,’ many of the targeted accounts, often using satire and parody, had posted on a wide range of issues, including politics.
This same fear creeps into schools and colleges, where students face threats of suspension and legal action, thus making interactions heavily censored. The Press Club takeover, crackdowns on activists, detention of journalists, job suspensions have further escalated the tensions. The ‘section 144’ impact goes far beyond the streets and has infiltrated the psyche of individuals, severely hampering them from engaging in any form of deliberation and discussion. This has led to absence of any form of think tanks and literary spaces has exacerbated the philosophical famine, leading to increased distress.
In times when critical philosophical and intellectual discourse is more crucial than ever to address trauma and deal with societal evils, the need for such engagement remains largely unacknowledged even by the education department. Notably, in June of this year, the University of Kashmir finally announced the introduction of a full-fledged PG Programme in Philosophy, a decision long-awaited and driven by repeated requests from both scholars and students.
Jaleel, a professor of philosophy with 16 years of teaching experience, asserts, “Education in Kashmir has been downgraded to mere employability, with an excessive focus on skill-based courses.”
Jaleel drew inspiration from his father who was an English literature professor and urged Jaleel that if he found literature interesting he should go for Philosophy while as if he loved philosophy he should definitely study Literature. “This advice from my father sounded weird at that time but it all made sense eventually.”
Jaleel reflects on a time when Kashmiris indulged deeply in philosophy.
“I have heard my father say that there used to be a Bertrand Russell Society in South Kashmir during the 1970s. Similarly, there is a local school named after the Lyceum which showcases the rich philosophical tradition.”
Moti Lal Saqi, an award-winning Kashmiri poet, folklorist, and researcher, in his 1998 work Aagar Naeb, in a chapter dedicated to the famed polymath Al-Beruni, writes:
“The brilliance of Kashmiris compels us to recognize that during Al-Beruni’s time, the opinions of Kashmiri scholars were highly influential. By the 11th century AD, Kashmir was still celebrated as Sharda Desha. Anything rejected by Kashmiris would not find acceptance elsewhere.”
The dread
Kashmiris fret at the noise of a firecracker and over the idea of letting a loved one drive alone at night. Amidst roads lined with tricolour flags, red remains etched in memories like waking nightmares. Even with the curfews lifted, fear persists; headlights confused for searchlights keeping people up at nights and glass windows covered with cardboard.
Despite living in the 21st century with access to countless devices, the untimely deaths of loved ones whose news did not reach in time, resulting in departures without proper funerals— still have people in disbelief. The threat of losing everything in an instant—be it access to the college in order to complete a long-awaited degree, freedom to run a business and sustain a living, accessibility to go to a job you love, or even the chance to play a community cricket match—down to the basic right such making a phone call with a loved one before fate is sealed by those in power, leads to persistent feelings of anxiety and vulnerability . This constant uncertainty erodes the sense of stability and security making every plan feel precarious and every night fraught with the fear of waking up to a new lockdown.
Representative image of barbed wire in Kashmir. Photo: Anuj Gupta/Flickr (CC BY-NC 2.0 DEED)
In Kashmir, this dread is pervasive and ever-present even the simplest joys of life. Even with the resumption of institutional functions, the aspirations and hopes crushed by the prolonged conflict cast a long shadow over the prospects for a promising future. The impact of violence, death, arbitrary detentions, and persistent threats on minds of young people has created a deep existential siege that belies any superficial semblance of normalcy, making the quest for hope and meaning an ongoing struggle and the ache of vulnerabilities more profound than ever.
Varendah of hope
After work, Sadiya’s grandmother would often sit quietly on the varendah, gazing into the distance with a calm, contemplative demeanour. Although Sadiya initially mistook this for loneliness, her grandmother never felt that way. She turned away from any form of entertainment, always affirming that she enjoyed her solitude. At first, this was hard for Sadiya to comprehend, as she struggled to spend even a minute without a distraction. But gradually, she came to understand that this was her grandmother’s way of spending her “me time.”
Eventually, Sadiya began to join her on the varendah, realising that her presence was the only form of support her grandmother truly desired. Their conversations were cherished by both Sadiya and her grandmother whose eyes would light up at the recollection of old times, while Sadiya found the things she heard profoundly thought-provoking and insightful. The conversations would help her put things into perspective and relieve her of the day’s stress.
As the years have passed and her grandmother has aged, the conversations have grown fewer and farther between. She now finds herself gripped by the fear of losing her grandmother to the inevitable passage of time, leaving her with only memories. The thought weighs heavily on her.
“It breaks my heart to know that all the wisdom my grandmother, and other elders like her, carry will one day become just a memory and gone with the wind with no record of the stories and lessons they hold,” Sadiya reflects. “I often record our conversations now so that when she’s no longer here, I’ll have something to turn to for guidance.”
Sadiya, who has always drawn inspiration from her grandmother, her personal philosopher, hopes that others too come to appreciate the value of this tradition. She dreams of a time when the rich legacy of wisdom and introspection in Kashmir will flourish once again, a time when students like her won’t feel the need to leave in search of intellectual spaces. Instead, she envisions a Kashmir where quiet corners, like the verandah of her maternal home will house debates, discussions, and learning spaces where minds can gather, heal together, grow, and be nurtured by the wisdom of those who came before. She prays that her homeland will reclaim its place as a cradle of knowledge and philosophy will thrive again.
Bazila Bilal is a student and freelancer. She graduated from Women’s College Srinagar with a Bachelor’s in Philosophy and English Literature.
