Dementia’s silent spread

A woman searches for her prayer beads, unable to remember where she kept them. A man struggles to recall the names of the grandchildren who sit right beside him. Families smile gently, telling themselves it’s just “old age.” But much later, it turns out that this is dementia.

In Jammu and Kashmir, more and more families are watching loved ones lose their memory. Right now, 9.4 percent people here are above 60. In just a few years, that number will rise sharply, and with it, the likelihood of dementia. Doctors say it creeps in slowly starting with confusion, forgotten tasks, and misplaced words. Families tend to ignore the signs until it becomes impossible to do so. By then, it’s often too late for timely help.

And help is hard to come by. Most people in the region live in villages, far from hospitals with specialists. For them, reaching the right doctor can mean long, exhausting travel. Early diagnosis could slow down the illness, give families time to plan, and offer the elderly more years of independence. But awareness is painfully low.

This silence is not only about dementia. It is about loneliness too, which has become a worldwide pandemic. Across the world, one in six people say they feel lonely every single day.

It’s easy to blame phones and social media, but the truth is deeper. We’ve lost the habit of sitting together, of talking without distraction, of simply being present. Families share space but not time. The glow of screens has replaced the warmth of conversation. For the elderly, this isolation can be as cruel as any disease.

What can be done? Policies and health programmes matter, but healing loneliness and supporting the ageing cannot be left to governments alone. It’s about us showing up for our parents, listening to our grandparents, checking on our neighbours. It’s about making room for empathy in a world that’s rushing too fast.