Kashmir at the Cross-roads: Nature-based Solutions for a Warmer Future
Sunrise on Dal Lake no longer feels as crisp as it did in childhood stories. Houseboats slice across shallower water, ringed by encroaching shanties. Mallards drift past tangled mats of invasive weeds. Behind the postcard view, the Kashmir Valley is confronting a collision of warming climate, runaway building and fraying farm systems. Yet as spring sun filters through the poplars of Srinagar, a chorus of experts speaks with quiet hope. They believe the Valley’s story need not end in concrete and decline. If we trade grey walls for green wetlands, if we let rivers breathe and forests mend our scars, Kashmir can still turn the tide. The answers, they say, lie not in steel and stone, but in the rhythm of nature itself, waiting to be heard. But, beneath this promise of renewal, the valley continues to fill, steadily, silently.
From the sky, satellite eyes have traced the change: how Srinagar has traded green for grey. In 1992, just 12 percent of the city was built-up. By 2020, that number had surged to 40 percent. In the same span, waterbodies shrank from 6 to 4 percent, and plantations fell from 26 to 17 percent. Concrete has crept where trees once stood, and asphalt now paves over what were once waterways. This is not just a city’s story. Towns strung like beads along the Jhelum show the same signs, expansion without breath, growth without space for water to rest. Each spell of precipitation tells the tale more plainly: where once rain fell on reeds, it now beats down on rooftops.
The water, with nowhere to go, surges across streets, flooding what the wetlands once quietly absorbed. Even Kashmir’s great water hearts are shrinking. Wular Lake, once vast, reflective, open has lost over a quarter of its surface water and these disappearing wetlands (Narkara, Rakh-i-arth, etc) are more than just scenic memory; they hold “cryptic carbon,” vast underground reserves locked in soggy soils. Draining them doesn’t just erase flood protection, it releases invisible gases, warming the air above a land already heating too fast. The valley is being redrawn, not by rivers and roots, but by roads and rooftops. In that shift, something ancient and quiet is being lost, unless the tide is turned, not just in plans, but on the land itself.
A hotter, riskier Himalayan future is no longer a distant warning it is arriving in bursts and silences. Global climate models foretell a more unpredictable hydrology across these heights: fiercer cloudbursts, longer droughts, and quicker snowmelt. For Kashmir, that translates into flash floods roaring down swollen catchments and paradoxically, parched paddy fields in the valleys below. In this fragile balance, concrete alone cannot carry the load. Embankments, culverts and drains, Kashmir’s traditional defenses, still matter, but they are not enough to meet the rising uncertainty of 21st century storms.
With each extreme event, public budgets buckle under mounting repair costs, barely able to catch their breath before the next disaster arrives. That is why the World Bank report calls on emerging economies to rethink the blueprint. The way forward, it argues, is not to abandon grey infrastructure but to blend it with nature. Forests that sponge the rain, wetlands that cradle excess water, green corridors that cool the streets these are not just embellishments, but working systems, capable of sharing the burden of flood control, water storage, and climate resilience.
In Kashmir, where memory and mountain are deeply entwined, such a shift would not just be practical. It would be poetic justice, letting the land heal itself, using the very textures that once shaped it. This is where the idea of working with, not against, nature takes root. But what exactly is a Nature-based Solution (NbS)?
The United Nations Environment Assembly defines it as a set of actions to protect, conserve, restore, and manage natural or modified ecosystems in ways that not only safeguard biodiversity, but also improve human well-being and resilience. Whether it is wetlands softening the blow of flash floods or urban parks cooling overheated city cores, Nature-based Solutions aim to respond to several crises at once climate, ecological loss, even unemployment. But for such solutions to truly take hold, there must be more than just good intentions. The UN Environment Programme’s roadmap for scaling up NbS outlines four essential steps: build a shared understanding of what NbS are and why they matter; embed them in policies that cut across sectors; ensure both people and ecosystems are protected through social and environmental safeguards; and most importantly, empower communities to lead the way.
Yet the planners, despite the urgency all around them, are yet to consistently check even one of these boxes. The idea of nature as infrastructure still feels unfamiliar, even optional. Fingers crossed; signs of possibility are still emerging. The discussions with intellectuals reveal what is waiting if that mindset shifts carbon stored in wetlands, livelihoods rooted in restoration, and flood buffers that cost far less than rebuilding after every storm. Nature-based Solutions are not a return to the past.
They are a way to face the future grounded, regenerative and shaped by the valley’s own strengths. The question now is whether we will listen before the land goes silent. If nature holds the key to resilience, it also holds untapped value quietly stored in soils, roots, and leaves. Using NbS Kashmir could deliver millions of tonnes of CO₂ equivalent mitigation every year alone that will offset the annual emissions equivalent to lakhs of cars, through restored meadows, protected forests, and well-tended farmland.
The promise is even greater because of where this carbon lies. High-altitude alpine grasslands and shrublands—often dismissed as marginal—act as formidable carbon sinks. Mixed forests and agroforestry mosaics further amplify sequestration capacity. In Kashmir’s untouched deodar stands, biomass is still accumulating as intact canopies shelter the forest floor. From ground-layer herbs and understory shrubs to towering crowns, these layers not only lock away carbon but also nurture biodiversity, regulate water flows, and serve as living shields against erosion and floods. Ecologists remind us that protecting these systems, and enriching their diversity, pays dividends in both climate action and ecological health. It’s not just about planting trees it’s about keeping what already stands, nurturing what quietly thrives and seeing value in the textures of the land that policy has too often overlooked. In the medley of climate solutions, Kashmir carries a quiet strength stored in its natural systems, waiting not to be extracted, but respected and yet, nature’s role doesn’t end with forests and wetlands it runs deep through the fields as well. Agriculture covers significant amount of Kashmir’s land, shaping both rural livelihoods and the region’s food security. But the system is under strain. Water-hungry crops like paddy and apple, driven by pumps and changing weather, are already drawing heavily from underground reserves. In fact, researchers have flagged Kashmir as facing the fastest rate of groundwater loss among regions of similar size anywhere on Earth. Here too, trees may offer quiet rescue. At present, Kashmiri croplands hold just 11.68 megagrams of tree biomass per hectare a modest figure. Yet global studies suggest that with the right practices, agroforestry systems can store 30 to 300 megagrams of carbon per hectare in the top meter of soil, all while making farms more resilient to both drought and floods.
This is why experts at the region’s forestry round-table have called for more “multifunctional agroforestry systems” models that blend productivity with resilience. Picture walnut trees shading saffron fields, or willow rows shielding vegetables from wind and water loss. Picture nitrogen-fixing alder lining maize plots, quietly enriching the soil. Such approaches not only sequester carbon but cushion farmers against climate shocks, offering both ecological and economic returns. But this vision needs more than ideas it needs support. Improved planting material, better storage and processing networks, and a rethink of restrictive rules that discourage farmers from planting trees will all be key. The seeds of change are already there. What remains is to help them grow.
This return to working with the land is not new for Kashmir, it is just remembering. Generations ago, the valley’s elders carved sar ponds and kul channels into the terrain, shaping water by gravity and wisdom. Many of these systems now lie choked with silt or boxed in by concrete. But they hold lessons worth recovering. In Kashmir, reviving these pondscapes through protection and desilting alongside restoring the alpine wetlands that feed the Jhelum, could provide Srinagar with precious reserves of clean water before expensive treatment plants even come online. It’s a solution both ancient and urgent.
Urban designers add another layer to this vision. They remind us that water alone is not enough shade matters too. Green and blue corridors threaded through the city can lower street temperatures by several degrees, softening the sting of rising heat. But Srinagar currently falls well short of the World Health Organization’s standard of 9 square metres of green space per person. To bridge that gap, experts suggest adopting the “3-30-300 rule” a benchmark for cities to promote equitable nature access. It dictates that individuals should see three trees from their dwelling, have 30 % tree canopy in their neighborhood, and live within 300 m of a high-quality green space. These aren’t just numbers. They are signals of health, safety, and dignity in a fast-warming city reminders that in the face of climate change, beauty and survival may come from the same roots.
Of course, ambition alone isn’t enough resources must follow. So where does the money come from? The World Bank’s latest study on adaptation finance lays bare the challenge: developing nations require around US$212 billion each year to adapt to climate change, but currently raise only about a third of that amount. The funding gap is widest for Nature-based Solutions, which often provide public goods like flood protection or cleaner air, benefits that don’t easily generate profit, making private investors wary unless clear revenue streams exist.
To bridge this, the report outlines four main ways to recover costs. First is the “user pays” model charging tariffs or fees, which is more feasible for services like wastewater treatment than for protecting open floodplains. Second is government financing through tax revenues or direct payments, often used for essential public infrastructure. Third is land-value capture, where increased property values near restored riverbanks or green embankments are partly taxed to fund the very nature that made those gains possible. Fourth is tapping into climate-linked finance, such as carbon markets or biodiversity credits, when NbS projects can demonstrate measurable outcomes.
But beyond funding models, the Valley will also need new kinds of partnerships. Global insurers are already piloting resilience bonds, which provide cities with upfront capital when they install NbS that reduce future disaster costs. Besides, multilateral lenders, from the Green Climate Fund to the Asian Development Bank now increasingly require a “green–grey” blend before signing off on loans for flood control or road projects. For Kashmir’s planners, the message is clear: nature is no longer a luxury in infrastructure planning it is a condition for investment.
Bringing back wetlands and other natural buffers will be pointless if the city keeps sprawling into them. Specialists caution that without firm land-use rules, any investment in green infrastructure will be a waste. The need is to halt new construction in the last stretches of marshland, overhaul the outdated master plan, and steer growth upward rather than outward so the city rises vertically instead of spreading across precious open ground. Protecting these spaces would preserve natural floodplains and keep future floods at bay. Future public buildings, should embrace the principles of “sponge city” design using permeable pavements, green roofs, and rain gardens to absorb rainfall, reduce runoff, and cool the urban environment during summer extremes.
But change doesn’t have to begin with large projects, even in existing neighborhoods, small retrofits can make a big difference. Roof gardens managed by local communities, shaded walkways connecting shrines and markets, or simple rainwater pits in schoolyards that double as playgrounds each offers a set of co-benefits: cooler temperatures, space for recreation, and improved water infiltration. And all of it comes at a fraction of what new reservoirs or stormwater infrastructure would cost. In this vision, resilience is not just engineered it is cultivated, block by block, with nature as a partner.
Down on the valley floor, agroforestry offers a different but equally powerful solution. Planting shade trees, establishing windbreaks to protect us from ghastly windstorms, introducing nitrogen-fixing species can transform farms into cooler, more resilient landscapes. These changes reduce the need for irrigation, buffer against climate extremes, and create new income streams from timber, fruit, or fuelwood. Kashmir already shows that a good percent of agricultural land carries a good percentage of tree cover. With the right nurseries, farmer support, and market access, the valley can climb that ladder too rebuilding its food systems not just for yield, but for resilience.
The UNEP’s playbook for Nature-based Solutions ends with a clear message: real impact depends on locally led action and coordination across sectors. Kashmir’s own experience reflects this truth. Whether it’s wetland wardens, municipal engineers, orchardists, or shrine trusts none can work in isolation. If one agency builds a drain without consulting others, the floodwaters may simply be redirected, not resolved.
What has failed in the past is not the vision, but the follow-through. Plans were designed, strategies outlined but implementation lagged behind. The lesson is clear: it’s not more concepts we need, but more collaboration, commitment, and continuity turning scattered efforts into a shared mission rooted in place and practice.
Kashmir remains, at heart, a valley of possibility. Once sustained by an intricate network of khuls, orchards, and village forests, it now stands at a crossroads where climate risks expose not just threats but opportunities. The heritage of living with nature is not a romantic memory; it is a blueprint for survival. Nature-based Solutions are not soft alternatives they are smart infrastructure for a hotter, more uncertain century. With a mitigation potential of nearly 3 million tonnes of CO₂ equivalent annually, Kashmir’s natural systems could offset twice the emissions of its entire transport sector. They can slow floods, refill aquifers, and cool overheated streets, all while sustaining the saffron, apples, and tourism that fuel the local economy.
The path ahead is not about choosing between past and future but choosing which future. Planners and citizens alike must decide: continue with reactive, short-term concrete fixes, or build a future anchored in living systems that protect, nourish, and employ. The science is solid. The finance models are within reach. The wisdom of the land and its people runs deep. A greener dawn over Dal Lake is still within sight, but only if every department, investor and household pulls in the same direction starting now.
Dr. Fayma Mushtaq, Faculty at King Fahd University of Petroleum and Minerals, Saudi Arabia.
