Feeling the Frontiers

The air grew thin as our cab climbed the winding roads of Shamsbari mountain range. I had to secure an “e-visa” from the district officials—a digital pass with one simple question: What is the purpose of your visit? To report what does it take to live on the edge?

As we drove past Kalaroos and spiralling trails, we finally reached Zamindar Gali, where the  army closely watches every visitor. Soon after the partition, raiders from Pakistan camped here for six cold months. Today, soldiers register each visitor before allowing passage to this high, hidden land. Machil may sound like a dreamland but people face immense hardships in this border belt.

After 200 minutes, I paid 200 rupees to the cab driver and reached Machil to meet Habibullah, the village sarpanch and my host. He welcomed with the warmth Kashmiris are known for, preparing lunch with a simple, heartfelt invitation: Kheyiv hez hodie batti. It was a phrase impossible to translate but rich with meaning, carrying the full warmth of Kashmiri hospitality. No buffet can match the organic food I had, fresh from the oven and garden. No processed or packaged food is served.

In the afternoon, we ventured out to see the valley's beauty first-hand and also know the grievances and problems of public. Machil is a scene pulled from a postcard: towering trees, massive meadows, and snow-tipped mountains. The pastures, like lush carpets, stretched from Misribehak to Katwara and beyond. But beauty alone can’t carry life here. The reality is stark: villagers face challenges unimaginable to many city dwellers. In Machil, every challenge is felt twice as deep. There are nine panchayats, seven revenue villages, and over 25,000 people—but little infrastructure to support them.

If a Srinagar resident gets a cooking gas cylinder delivered to their doorstep for INR 930, why should a resident of Machil have to shell out INR 1200 for the same thing? It’s outrageous! The sarpanch rightly pointed out that there are no checks and balances in place. The district administration doesn't even bother to visit—they’ve simply turned a blind eye to these border villages and the exploitation that happens here! Two weeks ago, a devastating fire left 500 people and their livestock homeless in Warwan valley because there was no fire station to douse the raging flames. The CM sanctioned INR 1.7 crore to help the victims rebuild, but here’s the real question: why won’t the government finally release funds to build a fire station in this neglected area? How long would it take for firefighters to reach Machil if, God forbid... People here are forced to live in constant risk while basic infrastructure remains ignored year after year!

Sometimes, I think about how privileged people in Srinagar and other towns really are. Meanwhile, for a student from Machil, Tulail, Teetwaal, or Keran, even earning a basic bachelor’s degree is an uphill battle. They’re forced to live in rented rooms at distant district headquarters. These border residents face so many extra obstacles just to attend school/college.

Few days ago, our own lender, J&K Bank posted a net profit of ₹550.92 crores but the bank perhaps is too poor to Install an ATM for Machil residents. If the bank can have ATMs in Mumbai and Delhi, why not in Machil?

Each winter, when Z-Gali is blanketed under mounds of snow Machil is cut off for months. Families huddle in simple wooden homes, bundling up to survive the extreme cold. Some have started moving to Kupwara during the coldest months. The government workers stationed here aren’t much luckier. The Roads and Building Department once built a staff building to house them, but it’s long since been abandoned and has now become a safe haven for local troublemakers. There’s no real support here, even for those sent to serve this community. The healthcare setup, too, is a mere shell.

As we toured around, we saw an interesting dynamics. At PHC Dudi, a lab assistant on duty, juggling first aid, ward maintenance, drug distribution, and surprisingly even the labour room. A simple dustbin overflows, filling the rooms with a foul smell. The washrooms are filthy, and the rooms are barely cleaned. With no X-ray machine, no proper doctors, and not even a single gynaecologist, women here face especially difficult challenges. Some health NGOs come here to educate women on menstrual hygiene, and for many, it’s their first experience using sanitary pads. But for major medical issues, the only hope is to wait for the Army to airlift critical patients by helicopter.

The last remaining state bus, once a vital connection to other towns, simply vanished one day. No one knows why, but no one asked either—they’ve grown used to things being given and taken without a word. How sad that residents of incredible India’s Machil are forced to pay 4X fare to and from Machil. Why can’t they have at least one state sponsored bus? Aren’t they the same vote-bank as Srinagar?

Machil- wrapped in silence and draped in forests, witnessed electricity for the very first time in 2020 when the tiny microbe caged the globe. The villagers have expressed their disappointment over frequent load-shedding and soaring power tariffs. They remain hopeful that Chief Minister Omar will take steps to address these issues and provide some relief.

While Machil today is free from the gunfire of past conflicts, it carries the echoes of those years. Many elders remember a time when infiltration across the border was order of the day. Now, as peace prevails, tourists have begun to arrive, enchanted by its beauty and drawn to its remote allure. But the locals know peace here is a fragile thing, balanced on promises that often go unkept.

Yet, despite all, the people of Machil are some of the warmest souls you could meet. They welcome strangers, opening their hearts and homes, no matter how little they have. It’s a reminder that while their lives may be full of hardship, their spirits are strong. I hope the newly elected chief executive of the state of Jammu and Kashmir pays a visit to Machil so that their voices are heard, and their needs met.

Hundred hours later, as I reluctantly left, looking back at the mist-covered mountains and the pine-clad peaks, I thought about the weight these people carry every day. Their lives are a testament to resilience, their days shaped by hardship yet marked by kindness. Machil, with its hidden beauty and untold struggles, remains a place caught between worlds, a place that deserves to be more than a memory for those who visit. And perhaps, with a little attention, it can become a place where life is lived not just in survival, but in joy.

The author is currently engaged with Atlas Service Corps, Washington D.C. He has recently been selected as one of the five storytellers from India by Mash Global and Giving Tuesday.