Rotten Meat, Rotten Minds
In a recent exposé, a substantial 1200 kgs of foul-smelling, rotten frozen meat was seized in Srinagar. The visuals were disgusting and awful. But beyond the decay of the meat lies something far more disturbing : the decay of our minds!
Kashmir is already grappling with a disturbing surge in gastrointestinal cancers, liver diseases and other non-communicable diseases. Hospitals cry stories of unexplained stomach pain, allergies, recurring ulcers and aggressive malignancies, often detected too late. While the usual suspects—tobacco, stress, sedentary lifestyle, pollution and alcohol—are discussed in drawing rooms and medical panels, one silent and deadly contributor often escapes scrutiny. That is the adulterated, contaminated and substandard food we consume daily.
From the unregulated rise of food outlets to the unchecked street vendors, from roadside chicken corners, unlicensed cloud kitchens to bakeries and now, the shocking discovery of underground rotten meat supply chains, it all points to an alarming trend. A public health disaster silently unfolding, one bite at a time.
To be clear, frozen meat itself is not the villain. In fact, many nations rely heavily on frozen meat, with strict adherence to food safety protocols. But the difference lies in how those nations manage the process, right from scientific slaughtering (zabah) to hygienic processing, temperature-controlled packaging, real-time traceability and regulated storage and transport. In Kashmir, unfortunately, that system is almost absent or loosely hanging by threads.
We must ask what checks exist between the slaughterhouse and our serving plates? Who certifies the hygiene of the food outlets mushrooming in every mohalla? Who audits the storage units hiding behind those glittering restaurant facades? And who is answerable when expired and toxic meat ends up in home delivered family meal?
Rotten meat carries serious microbial threats, all capable of causing food poisoning, long-term gut damage, and even death in vulnerable individuals. When we see cancer cases rising in Kashmir, we look to genetics or stress, rarely pausing to consider the poison we might already be ingesting, served stylishly on our plates.
The seizure of this decayed stockpile isn’t only about a health hazard. It’s about a systemic failure of ethics and enforcement. It is about how profit, greed and moral decay have allowed public health to become collateral damage.
And this isn’t an isolated incident. It reflects a broken chain of accountability. No uniform licensing for meat and other foodstuff handlers, no surprise inspections of cold storages, no health certification for food workers and no real penalties that can deter this kind of criminal act. All of this, while the consumer, helpless and unaware, continues to eat what’s available, trusting that someone, somewhere, is keeping watch. But that “someone” has perhaps long been slumbering.
And who are these people involved in this business of rot and decay? What sort of conscience allows someone to traffic in spoiled meat knowingly, to package illness and serve it to children, elderly and others? This is not at all ‘just carelessness’. It borders on a slow form of mass homicide, where lives are endangered daily for a few extra bucks.
The ball, now, is firmly in our court. We need strict regulatory mechanisms, immediate and uncompromising. Licensing for all food businesses must be mandatory, with random inspections and visible grading. Storage units and transport vehicles must be equipped with monitoring systems. Most importantly, those caught violating public trust must face strict legal consequences, not token fines or sealed warehouses that reopen in days.
We also need consumer vigilance. We must stop buying from unlicensed vendors, online or offline. We must demand hygiene and quality check. We must teach our children to recognize safe food. We must speak up, record violations, report them and refuse to tolerate the dangerous culture of adjustment.
The authorities, too, must rise to this crisis. The health department, municipal authorities, food safety officers, all must work in unison. It’s time to create a Kashmir Food Safety Task Force independent, efficient and transparent. And also, set up a helpline for reporting unsafe or adulterated food.
Kashmir has endured a lot. But if we allow our food systems to rot, if we allow our trust to be betrayed by those who feed us, we risk something even more dangerous: the slow poisoning of an entire generation.
This is not just about meat. This is about faith, dignity and the right to safe, honest food. We are standing at a crossroad. One path leads to accountability, health and future well-being. The other continues downhill, to sickness, silence and slow death.
It’s time we decide. And this time, let’s choose life.
