From Tradition to Trouble
Kashmir has always been celebrated for its sense of community, warmth, and compassion. For centuries, we have stood beside one another during times of happiness and grief. This culture of togetherness remains one of the most cherished features of Kashmiri society. Yet, with time, certain traditions that were once meant to strengthen relationships have taken a form that is becoming increasingly unsustainable for ordinary families.
One such custom, widely practiced across the Valley, is known as “Guli Myiuth” or “Wartav.” At its heart, the practice symbolizes solidarity—sharing joy and sorrow with relatives, friends, and neighbours. Whenever an event takes place in a household—be it illness, death, the birth of a child, passing examinations, a promotion, a new house, or even rituals like ear piercing—families are expected to visit with gifts. These often include trays of eggs, boxes of fruit, crates of juice, packets of sweets, chicken, bags of sugar, and chocolates for children. On bigger occasions like weddings, contributions extend to expensive gifts or large sums of money.
While the intention may be noble, the way this practice is carried out today has created pressure and compulsion. What was once voluntary goodwill has now transformed into a binding obligation. The rich often bring lavish gifts or huge amounts of money, while the poor contribute modestly within their means—but instead of being respected, they are often looked down upon and feel embarrassed. Over time, Wartav has even begun to resemble a form of “silent interest.” If someone gives ₹10,000, they later expect more in return. If a gold chain worth ₹20,000 is gifted today, years later a chain of the same kind is expected—even if its price has risen to ₹1 lakh. Such expectations trap poorer families in a cycle they cannot afford. A family that fails to contribute in the expected manner risks criticism, strained relations, or even social isolation. Thus, a beautiful tradition of togetherness has slowly turned into a heavy burden, particularly for families with limited means.
The harsh reality is that many people with modest incomes cannot afford such expenditures. Yet, due to fear of judgment or the need to “save face,” they borrow money or purchase items on credit just to meet these expectations. This not only pushes them into debt but also directly affects their own household needs. Beyond the financial strain lies the psychological toll. When people are forced into debt simply to maintain appearances, their sense of dignity and self-respect is compromised. Stress, anxiety, and frustration creep in, affecting mental health and family harmony. Ironically, what was meant to strengthen social bonds is now eroding them.
It is important to recognize that the true spirit of traditions does not lie in material contributions but in emotional support. Extending best wishes on happy occasions, offering condolences during grief, and standing by one another in times of hardship are invaluable acts that cost nothing but mean everything. However, when customs become competitive or transactional, they lose their soul and turn into a menace. Kashmir today stands at a crossroads. On one hand, we rightly take pride in our cultural practices. On the other, we must admit that some customs, in their current form, have become exploitative rather than supportive. Reform does not mean abandoning tradition—it means returning to its original spirit: simplicity, sincerity, and solidarity.
The responsibility for change lies with both individuals and communities. Families must learn to set boundaries and resist unhealthy practices without fear of judgment. Religious leaders, civil society groups, and elders have a crucial role in discouraging wasteful customs and promoting moderation. Society as a whole must shift from valuing people for what they give to appreciating the love and respect they carry in their hearts.
Ultimately, the beauty of Kashmiri culture lies not in expensive gifts, borrowed money, or crates of food—it lies in the bond of humanity that ties us together as neighbors, relatives, and friends. If we simplify customs like Wartav and focus on their true essence, we can preserve our culture in a way that uplifts rather than burdens families. If ignored, more families will silently suffer, trapped in debt and social pressure. The time has come for Kashmiri society to pause, reflect, and reform. Let us hold onto the compassion and solidarity that define us, while freeing ourselves from the unnecessary burdens that are harming our own people. Change is possible, and it begins with each one of us.
Dr. Younis Ahmad Sheikh and Rufadha Akhter focus on social and cultural issues.
