I am heart broken; and that is why I didn’t attend any Environment Day events in Kashmir

By Munazah Farooq

It was June 5 yesterday, the Environment Day, and I passed by Chadoora with my friends. As much as the concrete and chaotic landscape was depressing, I was shocked to see dozens of cars being washed in the pristine waters of Doodh Ganga stream.

It was happening in broad daylight light. No one was resenting. No one was stopping. I was wondering do the people doing it have no idea what they were doing?

While government departments, institutions, schools, NGOs and political leaders marked the Environment Day with seminars, speeches, plantation drives and photo opportunities, I chose to go to a jungle and not attend a single event.

Many friends asked me why.

My answer is simple: I no longer find comfort in symbolism when reality is so painful.

As someone who deeply loves Kashmir’s mountains, forests, rivers, lakes and meadows, I am increasingly heartbroken by what I see around me. Every year, we gather in halls and conference rooms to discuss environmental protection. We print banners, distribute souvenirs, decorate stages, use plastic water bottles, wear VIP badges and consume resources in the name of saving the environment. The irony is impossible to ignore.

Many of these events have their own carbon footprint. They often become exercises in self-congratulation rather than meaningful action. We listen to speeches, applaud promises and take photographs. Then everyone returns home and the destruction continues.

Outside the conference halls, Kashmir’s natural heritage is disappearing at an alarming pace.

Forests are shrinking. Wetlands are being encroached upon. Water bodies are under immense pressure. Agricultural land is rapidly giving way to ugly concrete structures. The green landscapes that once defined Kashmir are being fragmented by unchecked construction and short-sighted planning.

What saddens me even more is that much of this destruction is happening in plain sight.

Everyone can see it. Everyone talks about it. Yet very little changes.

We continue to use enormous quantities of plastic despite having a rich tradition of locally made, sustainable and biodegradable alternatives. We throw waste carelessly on roadsides, in streams and open spaces. We proudly keep our homes clean but often treat public spaces as if they belong to nobody.

The truth is that a clean society cannot exist if cleanliness ends at the gate of one’s home.

Environmental stewardship requires community ownership. It requires people to feel responsible not just for their private property but also for their neighbourhoods, parks, roads, lakes and forests.

Unfortunately, that sense of collective responsibility appears to be weakening.

I do not wish to diminish the efforts of the many sincere environmentalists, activists, researchers, volunteers and concerned citizens who continue to work tirelessly. Their commitment inspires me. They plant trees, raise awareness, document environmental violations and advocate for stronger protection measures.

But they are fighting an uphill battle.

The larger system does not appear to treat environmental preservation as an urgent priority. Development is too often measured in terms of concrete, roads and buildings, while ecological costs are ignored. Political discourse revolves around votes, constituencies and short-term gains. Environmental concerns frequently take a back seat.

Over the years, vote-bank politics, weak enforcement and poor planning have collectively eroded many of Kashmir’s natural assets. While politicians who have held power and taken decisions for our environment have accumulated wealth and influence, Kashmir has steadily lost parts of the natural inheritance that once made it unique.

The tragedy is that nature’s losses are often irreversible.

A destroyed wetland cannot easily be recreated. A mature forest cannot be replaced overnight. A lost ecosystem cannot be restored through speeches or ceremonial plantation drives.

Today, I confess that I feel more sadness than hope.

I am tired of hollow declarations. I am tired of environmental commitments that remain on paper. I am tired of watching beautiful landscapes disappear while we celebrate token achievements.

Yet somewhere beneath this disappointment remains a small belief that ordinary citizens can still make a difference. Real change will not come from one-day events. It will come when environmental protection becomes part of everyday life, public policy and collective consciousness.

Until then, I cannot bring myself to celebrate World Environment Day.

For me, June 5 was not a day of celebration.

It was a day of mourning for the Kashmir that is slowly slipping away before our eyes.

The author is pursuing PhD on the topic “Economic and Social Costs of Unbridled Urbanisation in Kashmir”