V.K. Sanju
''None of us started all this. But poor folks like us are the ones suffering....''
Aamir, who bears a striking resemblance to Afghan cricketer Rashid Khan, kept saying to no one in particular while rowing his shikara. He had studied up to post-graduation but could not write his final exams due to family circumstances. He had wanted to become a journalist. Now, he tries to keep his head above water by rowing a boat on Dal Lake for a monthly salary of 8,000 rupees.
''The conflicts in the Kashmir Valley affected people not just physically, but mentally as well. A study conducted here found that 45 percent of adults suffer from psychological stress. Jammu and Kashmir ranks at the top in the country in the number of suicide attempts. Drug use is also on the rise, as you can see from Crime Records Bureau figures,'' Aman Bhatt, who was sitting opposite me in the shikara, said, following up on Aamir's remarks.
The majority of people in the valley are affected by conflict in one way or another. Terrorists crossing the border used to move through their fields and among their flocks of sheep. India and Pakistan directly clashed four times (1948, 1965, 1999, and 2025) right over their heads. Among those who survived all this, especially the children, the aftermath of conflict lingers for a long time.
However, times are changing today. Uri and its surrounding areas are gradually freeing themselves from the terrifying atmosphere of the Operation Sindoor period. Rapidly progressing infrastructure development projects can be seen firsthand on any major road in the region.
''In the old days, life here was just about survival. Now there is a sense of bewilderment about what to do in the newly opened cities....''
Listening to Aman talk, it felt as though memories were condensed in every single word. I cast my gaze out through the car window into the traffic. After an evening on Dal Lake, the journey is from Srinagar to the LoC in the morning. It is only 115 kilometers to the command post at the line of control. But it takes us about four hours to cover that distance. Road construction work led by the National Highways Authority of India (NHAI) and the Border Roads Organisation (BRO) is the reason. Work is actively underway parallel to existing routes and on twin pillars. Traffic is being diverted to a single lane in many places. In addition, our driver Siraj said there is traffic congestion that was unfamiliar until a few years ago.
The BRO coordinates its work primarily through two broad projects in the Kashmir Valley and the Jammu region—Project Beacon, headquartered in Srinagar, and Project Sampark, headquartered in Jammu. Our journey is right through the development activities of Project Beacon, which includes the Kashmir Valley, Zojila, Gulmarg, Uri, and northern border roads.
Along with providing smooth travel facilities for locals and tourists, crucial defense projects are also being implemented under this. This prevents border villages and military posts on the line of control from getting isolated during winter. It also helps in swiftly moving weapons and heavy vehicles to border routes.
Yes, Kashmir is changing. Life in the valley has become more vibrant. For those who used to trudge through life with the single goal of survival, busy days are no longer long enough. You can see BSF and CRPF jawans and armored vehicles at every turn in Kashmir, even more than you would see police officers in Kerala. The guard of soldiers wearing automatic machine guns, bulletproof vests, and helmets is now a part of daily life there.
As we get closer to the line of control, the high-range roads are mostly complete. It is not yet winter. The old memories of fear frozen on the dust-grayed tar roads are beginning to fade. In the streams flowing down from the mountains of Uri, the clear blue of glacial lakes has replaced memories tinged with blood. A population that used to raise their hands and pray to the sky after every shell explosion has begun to sleep in relative peace.
When the spring of greenery returns among tree branches frozen by snowflakes, Kashmir is on the path of peace and progress. About one million people live on this side of the line of control. Most of them are daily wage laborers and farmers. They cannot be sidelined simply as standard difficulties faced by border residents. Roads of tar and concrete are stretching across Kashmir lengthwise and breadthwise, serving as paths of development to prevent a return to the conditions of the nineties.
At the end of it, our vehicle stopped in front of the large gate of the command post. A short walk leads to Aman Setu. Gates at both ends of the bridge are locked. The Pakistani flag flutters across the Indus River.
Located in Uri in the Baramulla district, this is the final Indian post. Connecting India and Pakistan-administered Kashmir, Aman Setu was once known as the Friendship Bridge. The Srinagar-Muzaffarabad bus service used to pass through here. This bridge was used for trade purposes and for families separated on either side by partition to visit one another. However, after the 2019 Pulwama terrorist attack, the bus service and border trade were suspended, and the bridge was closed.
The nightmares endured for generations, destroyed homes, and a peace that could shatter at any moment had left deep wounds in the minds of the people of Kashmir. Yet, fulfilling the natural law that every night, no matter how dark, is followed by a dawn, Kashmir is opening its eyes.
Children go to school without fear, farmers tend to their orchards with affection, free from debt traps; everything from apples and pomegranates to silkworms on mulberry trees thrives there. As homes rise up once more from ruined walls, every new construction tells stories of survival.