There are moments when a society is compelled to look into its own conscience and ask a painful question: Have we become so accustomed to inequality that human suffering no longer moves us?

Kashmir, known for its hospitality, compassion and deeply rooted culture of helping those in distress, is witnessing a contradiction that deserves serious public debate. On one side are families struggling to arrange even two meals a day; on the other, sections of the affluent society spend substantial amounts on the care, grooming, food and medical treatment of their pet cats and dogs. The issue is not about keeping pets. Animals deserve kindness and responsible care. The real question is about the growing economic and emotional distance between the privileged and the deprived.
For a poor family, a few hundred rupees can determine whether children eat a proper meal or go to bed hungry. For some affluent households, considerably larger amounts may be spent on the comfort and maintenance of pets. There is nothing wrong with caring for animals, but when lavish expenditure on pets exists alongside complete indifference towards hungry human beings living in the same neighbourhood, it raises an uncomfortable moral question: Where has our sense of collective humanity gone?
I recently witnessed an incident that made me reflect deeply on this issue. A woman was bitten by a cat and also suffered injuries from the cat's claws. The incident was serious enough that, after medical examination, doctors advised her to take the necessary vaccination. What struck me was not merely the incident itself, but the broader question of responsible pet ownership. Keeping an animal comes with responsibilities—not only towards the animal but also towards other human beings who may come into contact with it.
Pet owners have every right to love and care for their animals. However, that love should be accompanied by responsibility. Proper vaccination, supervision, hygiene and precautions are essential so that pets do not become a source of injury, fear or health concerns for others.
At the same time, we must not lose sight of a much larger social tragedy. In Kashmir, as elsewhere, there are people who struggle every day to arrange basic necessities. Elderly persons can be seen seeking assistance, labourers working long hours for modest wages, and families worrying about food, education, healthcare and housing. For such people, the concept of spending large sums on luxuries is almost unimaginable.
The contrast becomes even more painful when society enthusiastically responds to the needs of animals while sometimes remaining indifferent to the human beings standing at its doorstep.
This is not an argument against animals. It is an argument for humanity.
A society should be capable of doing both: caring for animals and caring for vulnerable human beings. The two should never be presented as mutually exclusive. The real failure occurs when compassion becomes selective—when we have enough resources to provide extraordinary comfort to pets but cannot spare a meal, a blanket, medicine or a helping hand for a fellow human being.
The growing culture of conspicuous consumption also deserves attention. Social media has transformed pets into lifestyle symbols for some sections of society. Expensive food, grooming, accessories and specialised services are increasingly visible. Meanwhile, the struggles of the poor often remain invisible because poverty rarely receives the same publicity or attention.
Perhaps Kashmir needs a renewed conversation about social responsibility, empathy and dignity. Charity should not be restricted to occasional donations during festivals or emergencies. Communities, institutions and individuals must develop mechanisms through which vulnerable families can receive food, healthcare, education and other basic assistance.
Our religious, cultural and social traditions have always emphasised compassion towards the weak, the hungry, the elderly and the helpless. That spirit must not remain confined to speeches and ceremonies.
The question before us is therefore not whether a person should spend money on a cat or a dog. The question is much deeper:
Can we call ourselves a compassionate society if we can afford every comfort for our pets but remain unmoved when a human being next door cannot afford two meals a day?
Kashmir does not need less compassion towards animals. It needs more compassion towards people.
A truly humane society is one in which a pet is cared for, a poor person is not ignored, an injured person receives immediate help, and nobody is forced to sleep hungry while others live in unimaginable luxury.
The measure of a society should not be how much wealth its richest can display, but how much dignity its poorest are allowed to retain.
That is the burning question Kashmir must confront—not tomorrow, but today.

Email:-------------------------------------- paryazdot11@gmail.com