Kashmir’s got a beauty that can stop you cold—snow-draped mountains, still lakes, orchards heavy with apples. But for the people living here, that beauty’s just a backdrop to a harder truth. A drug crisis is ripping through the valley, pulling in kids, young adults, and whole families. It’s not just a few guys smoking weed or popping pills—it’s heroin, needles, and lives unravelling fast. This isn’t about bad decisions; it’s about a generation sinking under the weight of hopelessness, scarce jobs, and a system that’s struggling to keep up. Walk through Srinagar’s crowded lanes or sit in a village tea shop, and the stories hit you like a gut punch.
This problem’s been growing for years. Life in Kashmir’s tough—poverty’s everywhere, and good jobs are rare [Wikipedia, Drug addiction in Jammu and Kashmir]. Young people feel trapped, like there’s no way out. Schools close too often, small businesses limp along, and families barely make ends meet. The emotional toll is heavy—grief, stress, and a nagging feeling that things won’t improve. Drugs become a way to quiet the pain, even for a moment. Heroin’s flooding in from nearby borders, cheap and way too easy to get [Al Jazeera, March 2025]. The 2019 lockdowns and then COVID made it worse—people stuck at home, cut off from friends or work, turned to drugs to cope with the loneliness [Kashmir Observer, June 2025].
The numbers are rough. Over a million people—about one in ten Kashmiris—are hooked on something, from cannabis to harder stuff [Wikipedia, Drug addiction in Jammu and Kashmir]. Around 168,000 of them are kids, some as young as 10, messing with weed, cocaine, even sniffing glue [UNODC]. Heroin’s the real monster—95% of addicts are on it, with over 50,000 people in the valley caught in its grip [UNODC]. They’re burning through money, like 88,000 rupees a month, more than most families here see in a season [UNODC]. Clinics in Srinagar are slammed, seeing 150 new patients daily, one in ten a teenager [UNODC]. From 2022 to 2024, more people kept showing up for help—nearly 10,000 walked into treatment in 2022 alone [Parliamentary reports]. Girls are getting dragged in too, but they keep it hidden because the stigma’s so heavy.
Why’s it like this? It’s not just that drugs are there—it’s why people reach for them. Picture being a teenager with no job, no money, and no hope on the horizon. The economy’s been shaky for years, with tourism and small shops taking hit after hit [Al Jazeera, March 2025]. Kids see their parents struggle, and it’s like carrying a stone in your chest. Heroin hits quick, makes you forget for a bit [Kashmir Observer, July 2025]. Schools are noticing—kids as young as 12 showing up high or needing serious help [Rising Kashmir]. It’s not just street drugs either; people slide from pills like tramadol to needles, chasing something stronger to block out the dark [UNODC].
The stories break your heart. Take Bilal, a 19-year-old from near Baramulla. He wanted to fix cars, maybe open a garage someday. But with no work around, he started with cannabis to kill time, then moved to heroin. Now he’s 23, bouncing in and out of rehab, his family’s sold half their land to pay for it, and they tell neighbors it’s a “liver issue” to avoid the gossip [Al Jazeera, March 2025]. That’s just one kid—there are thousands like him. Families are crumbling, selling land or jewelry to cover drugs or treatment. Health’s a mess too—seven out of ten users have Hepatitis C from dirty needles, and over 33,000 syringes get used daily just for heroin [UNODC]. The worst part? Nine out of ten addicts are between 17 and 33, the age when you’re supposed to be starting life, not fighting to survive [Al Jazeera, March 2025].
There’s some fight left in the valley. The government’s got about 20 de-addiction centers—11 in Kashmir, the rest in Jammu—and NGOs are running a few more [Wikipedia, Drug addiction in Jammu and Kashmir]. The mental health hospital in Srinagar’s doing what it can, helping over 41,000 people last year, but it’s overwhelmed [Al Jazeera, March 2025]. About 25,000 addicts have sought help in recent years, which is a start [Parliamentary reports]. There’s a national drug plan, but it’s underfunded—centers need more staff, more beds, more everything [Rising Kashmir]. Women are banding together, supporting each other through the shame and recovery [Kashmir Observer, June 2025]. Teachers and local leaders are starting to speak up, trying to warn kids before they’re too far gone.
It’s not enough, though. Kashmir needs a real plan—more rehab centers, counselors who get it, school programs to show kids they’re worth more than a hit [Rising Kashmir]. The community’s got to pitch in—elders, religious folks, even people who’ve beaten addiction could help break the silence. If this keeps going, the valley’s not just losing people—it’s losing its future.
This is bigger than drugs; it’s about giving Kashmir’s people a chance to heal, to dream again. They’ve been carrying too much for too long, and they deserve better.

Email:-------------sahilbilallone6@gmail.com