Online Gambling Apps Leave a Trail of Debt, Distress Across Kashmir
Srinagar, Jul 16: The desperate plea of an elderly man losing over Rs 1 crore to online betting has exposed a growing crisis quietly destroying families across Kashmir, where a simple mobile game is driving people to financial ruin.
The viral video that surfaced Tuesday shows a man with a trembling voice begging for help after falling victim to what locals call the “aircraft game” — a deceptively simple betting platform where players watch a virtual plane take off and must cash out before it crashes.
“I kept thinking I could recover my losses in the next round,” the man said, his eyes reflecting weeks of sleepless nights. “But instead, I kept falling deeper into the pit.”
His story echoes dozens of similar cases emerging from across the Valley, where unemployment and desperation have made residents easy targets for unregulated gambling apps masquerading as harmless games.
Adil (name changed), a 20-year-old Srinagar resident, saw his family’s life savings disappear in weeks. After watching a YouTuber win Rs 20,000 in minutes, he decided to try his luck. What started as small wins quickly spiralled into devastating losses.
“I sold my bike, borrowed from friends. I couldn’t stop,” Adil recounted, his voice barely above a whisper. “My father had to sell our house to clear my Rs 17 lakh debt. I destroyed everything chasing something that was never real.”
The pattern is becoming disturbingly familiar. With Kashmir recording some of India’s highest youth unemployment rates, many are turning to these apps hoping for quick financial relief. Instead, they’re finding addiction, debt, and family breakdown.
The human cost extends beyond individual players. Multiple families report children accessing parents’ phones and bank accounts to place bets. Some have mortgaged property or emptied emergency savings, only discovering the damage when it’s too late.
Mohammad Shafi, a Nishat shopkeeper, watched his nephew lose Rs 4 lakh before anyone realised what was happening. “There were no warnings, no checks,” Shafi said. “One day, he was helping at the shop. Next, he was borrowing money from strangers to play a game.”
Despite growing public outcry, these betting platforms remain freely available, promoted through social media influencers and online videos promising massive returns with minimal effort. Most operate from overseas servers, putting them beyond the reach of Indian cyber law enforcement.
The government’s silence has frustrated many residents. No official advisories, educational campaigns, or concrete enforcement actions have been announced to address what community leaders are calling a “digital epidemic.”
Grand Mufti Nasir-ul-Islam and other religious leaders have begun speaking out forcefully against online gambling.
Mufti Zubair Ahmad said: “This is a societal epidemic. Online betting destroys households, corrupts young minds, and erodes our values. Every responsible citizen and authority must act before it consumes more lives.”
The clerics are urging families to stay vigilant and demanding immediate government action to ban such platforms and regulate their promotion. “We cannot let technology become a tool for moral and economic collapse,” the Mufti warned.
For many victims, the damage is already done. Farooq Ahmad, who lost his family’s savings to the aircraft game, now speaks publicly about his experience, not seeking sympathy, but hoping to prevent others from making the same mistake.
“If you see someone playing these games, stop them,” he urged. “One tap on a screen can burn everything you’ve built.”
As more stories emerge from the shadows, Kashmir faces a crisis that doesn’t make headlines like traditional conflicts, but may be just as destructive to the social fabric of Kashmiri society. The weapon isn’t a gun or drug — it’s a smartphone screen and the deadly illusion of easy money.
The true cost, as families across the Valley are discovering, is far greater than anyone imagined.
