In a deeply disturbing revelation, authorities in Kashmir recently seized several quintals of rotten meat, emitting a decayed stench, improperly stored in freezing units, and shockingly ready to be sold to unsuspecting consumers. Most of the meat found was in bad condition that was found unfit even for animals. This isn’t just a scandal; it is a public health emergency. Unfortunately, this is not an isolated event. From expired ice creams and snacks in school canteens to questionable hygiene practices in local butcher shops and roadside eateries, Kashmir’s food safety situation is teetering on the brink of collapse.

What allows such rot to flourish on our plates? It’s a poisonous mix of administrative apathy, political silence, and regulatory gaps. Despite repeated public complaints and disturbing social media videos showing meat stored in unhygienic conditions, there is no systemic follow-up, no accountability, and no preventive policy framework in place. Most food safety inspections, when they happen, are reactive, often triggered by media outrage rather than institutional diligence.
In states like Uttar Pradesh, 700 kg of fake paneer and 450 litres of adulterated milk were seized just before Raksha Bandhan. In Kanpur, ₹5.67 lakh worth of sweets were confiscated for failing safety standards. Where is Kashmir’s equivalent enforcement data? Where are its laboratory test results? If such public health threats exist in better-equipped states, imagine the scale of hidden rot in regions like Kupwara, Pulwama, and Kulgam where inspections are rare, and cold storage regulation is nearly absent. Even FSSAI’s own portal lacks granular data on enforcement activity specific to Jammu and Kashmir. There is no real-time FoSCoRIS (Food Safety Compliance) tracking available to citizens in the Union Territory. Meanwhile, vendors continue to operate without proper licenses, and cold chains remain outside any meaningful monitoring mechanism.
The consequences are not just medical—they are moral and economic. Families pay for unsafe food with their health. Children miss school due to foodborne illnesses, hospital beds get occupied by preventable infections, and trust in public systems erodes. In Kashmir, where medical facilities are already stretched and remote areas lack specialist care, one outbreak linked to decaying meat could easily spiral into disaster. Local governments, panchayats, and municipal bodies are neither trained nor equipped to deal with food-related threats. In schools, no guidelines exist on permissible food items or hygiene audits for canteens. In markets, sellers are not mandated to digitally tag expiry dates or maintain cold chain integrity. This silence and inaction represent a gross abdication of state responsibility.
Kashmir doesn’t just need raids—it needs reform. A functioning Food Safety Wing with trained inspectors, mobile testing vans, geo-tagged real-time enforcement reporting (like FoSCoRIS), and monthly public audit reports is urgently needed. Constituency-level data must be collected and published. Repeat violators must be blacklisted and licenses revoked. Legislators representing Jammu and Kashmir must demand answers on the floor of the Assembly and Parliament. Why is the state silent when rotting meat enters its citizens’ homes?
A society that allows its citizens to be poisoned slowly, invisibly is a society in decay. This crisis is not about rotten meat; it’s about rotten priorities. And unless Kashmir’s policymakers, media, civil society, and citizens come together to act, this emergency will not stay silent for long. It will speak through the hospital queues, through child malnutrition, through shattered trust. So the next time you sit down to eat in Kashmir, ask yourself: Are you sure it’s safe? Because in the Valley today, it’s truly: Eat at your own risk.

Email:---------------- naseerbita@yahoo.com