Kashmir Needs Green Awakening

Kashmir is not just a piece of land—it’s a living culture shaped by its rivers, its crops, its birds, and its snow-covered peaks. But as on date Kashmir stands at crossroads as wetlands have dried up, fields are vanishing fast and imported crops and fruits are replacing the local yield. Even water in Kashmir seems to have lost its purity. In many areas people purchase the packaged water for drinking purpose. Reclaiming Kashmir’s agricultural and ecological soul is not just about growing local food—it’s about restoring a way of life, a rhythm of nature, and the pride of self-sustenance.

Once a symbol of agrarian richness and ecological balance, Kashmir is today battling an unsettling reality. The land that was once proud of its perishable produce—lush vegetables, fragrant rice, and delicious local fruits— is struggling to maintain its fertility.

The crisis is multilayered—ecological, agricultural, cultural, and economic. The Kashmir that once fed its people with self-grown, organic food is now importing fruit tree breeds from Italy and buying hybrid rice seeds from China.

As one rightly puts it, “Eating an apple from an Italian tree does not make one Italian. Just as growing Chinese rice doesn’t cultivate Chinese values.” These foreign seeds may produce fruit, but they do not reproduce the cultural and environmental connection the people of Kashmir once had with their land.

The Kashur tumul (locally cultivated Kashmiri rice) has become sparse. The paddy fields of Kashmir were once expansive green blankets rolling across the Valley, offering not just staple food but a way of life. Today, these fields are being rapidly converted into real estate projects and unauthorized colonies.

Districts like Budgam, Srinagar outskirts, Pulwama, and Anantnag have lost massive tracts of agricultural land to construction. The rice fields that once echoed with the songs of farmers are now filled with the noise of construction machines. With local rice production declining, Kashmir is now importing hybrid varieties of rice from different places. The imported rice has no aroma, taste, and cultural essence of the native varieties like Zag, Mushk Budji, or Kamad.

Wetlands like Hokersar, Anchar, Wular, and Dal Lake, once known for their biodiversity and as natural filters and flood controls too have shrunk dramatically. These wetlands sustained hundreds of hectares of floating vegetable gardens, supporting generations of farmers who grew tomatoes, nadru (lotus stem), collards (haakh), and turnips. Today, siltation, encroachments, and unregulated urban expansion have taken a massive toll. Thousands of kanals of these wetland areas have been converted into housing colonies, shopping complexes, and even garbage dumping grounds. The very lifeline that provided not just food but ecological balance is vanishing under cement and steel.

Kashmir’s homes once carried the fragrance of self-grown vegetables. Each household either had a backyard garden or access to communal farmlands. Seasonal vegetables grew in harmony with the land—turnips in winter, pumpkins in summer, and green leafy vegetables in abundance.

Now, as urban sprawl devours farmland and traditional gardens give way to tiled lawns or concrete parking lots, the culture of growing vegetables has nearly died.

The new generation, disconnected from farming, depends almost entirely on vegetables trucked in from outside—Punjab, Himachal Pradesh, and even Gujarat. This over-reliance not only raises food prices but also makes Kashmir vulnerable to supply chain disruptions.

Kashmir was once proud of its indigenous apple varieties—Ambri, Trel, Harud, and Kharu. These were not just fruits but cultural identifiers, shaped by centuries of adaptation to the valley’s unique climate and soil. But as on date foreign fruits are threatening the local produce. Traditional farming methods, which coexisted with the local flora and fauna, have been replaced by aggressive, chemical-laden practices. The soil is losing its fertility, and pollinators like bees and butterflies are disappearing. Entire ecosystems that once supported birds, insects, and mammals have silently collapsed.

Kashmir’s flora and fauna are integral to its identity. The majestic chinars, delicate nargis, wild tulips, and medicinal herbs like salam panja and trillium are now endangered or extinct in many regions.

Likewise, species such as the hangul (Kashmiri stag), once freely roaming in Dachigam, are now critically endangered. The ecological loss has also weakened traditional practices like beekeeping, herbal medicine, and even traditional fishing. The crisis isn’t just environmental—it’s deeply cultural. The disconnection from the land is creating a generation that does not know how rice is grown, how vegetables are planted, or even how food arrives on the plate. What’s more ironic is that imported seeds and alien food habits are now replacing what was once local pride. There is an identity crisis. The values embedded in Kashmir’s soil—self-reliance, community farming, seasonal diets, environmental respect—are rapidly eroding.

The crisis, though alarming, is not irreversible. What Kashmir needs today is a green awakening—a movement that revives and protects its agrarian and ecological roots.

Sheikh Khalid writes for GK on Politics , Terrorism , Education & Strategic affairs and is presently heading International Centre for Peace Studies (ICPS)