Amir Shafi Rather
It often begins with joy. A group of friends laughing by the riverbank, a young boy diving into the cool waters of a lake on a summer afternoon, or children chasing each other along the streams that run like silver veins through our valley. These are the everyday sights of Kashmir, where water has always been more than a necessity — it is poetry, culture, and life itself.
Yet, too often, these moments of joy are cut short. What begins with laughter ends with silence. The same waters that reflect our skies turn into merciless graves, swallowing the dreams and futures of our young.
Every year, Kashmir is shaken by the same heartbreaking headlines: lives lost to the Wular, the Jhelum, Dal, Manasbal, and countless other rivers and lakes. Waters that should bring beauty, nourishment, and celebration instead echo with the cries of families torn apart.
For the parents left behind, the grief is unbearable. A mother who once prayed for her son’s safe return now whispers her prayers at his grave. A father who once worked tirelessly to secure his child’s future now shoulders a sorrow heavier than any burden. Their pride, their dreams, their hopes — all shattered in a single instant.
But the pain does not end with the funeral. It lingers. It reappears at every stage of life. When other parents cheer for their children’s success in school, the grieving parents face an empty chair. When weddings light up the neighborhood, their hearts ache for the son who will never wear a groom’s turban or smile beside a bride. When grandchildren are born around them, their silence deepens — for they know their own child will never give them that joy. This grief does not fade; it becomes a shadow that follows them until their last breath.
“Even the strongest swimmers have been overpowered by Kashmir’s silent currents.”
Dear youth of Kashmir, this message is for you. Your life is far too precious to gamble for a fleeting thrill. A daring dive into Wular, a swim in Jhelum, or an adventurous jump into a stream may feel exciting — but these waters conceal dangers that do not forgive. Beneath the calm surface lie strong undercurrents, hidden depths, and slippery rocks. Even the strongest swimmers have been overpowered. Water is life, but when underestimated, it becomes death.
Remember, your life is not yours alone. It belongs to your parents who raised you with prayers and sacrifices, to your family who dreams of your success, and to this valley that sees in you its future. Losing you means losing not only a son or daughter but also a piece of Kashmir’s tomorrow. Do not let a moment of carelessness erase all that you are meant to become.
As a society, we too must act. Parents must guide their children with wisdom, schools must raise awareness about water safety, and our communities must create safe recreational spaces for youth. Water itself is not the enemy — our negligence is. Let us respect it, admire it, but never underestimate it.
“A moment of carelessness can erase all that you are meant to become.”
Kashmir does not need its youth as names etched on gravestones or as stories of sorrow. It needs them alive — as living dreams who will carry forward its culture, its knowledge, and its legacy. Let us vow that no more lives will be surrendered to our waters. Let the laughter of our children echo across the valleys, not be silenced beneath the lakes and rivers that define our land.
So, dear youth, before you leap into unsafe waters, pause. Think of your mother’s prayers, your father’s hopes, your family’s love, and the future that patiently waits for you. Adventure is important, joy is essential — but safety is life itself. Choose life, not only for yourself, but for your parents, for your family, and for Kashmir.
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