SRINAGAR: Every day, 23-year-old Hussain walks across Residency Road in Srinagar to board his university bus. Halfway along the road, a traffic signpost comes into view: ‘Dal Lake’, it says in Hindi, the Devanagari script.
For months, Hussain stared at it, following the letters with his eyes, hoping to decipher their code. Now, he hardly looks up. A tourist donning a puffy jacket pauses at the board, and snaps a photo, reads it easily.
A block later, there is another signboard: ‘Lal Chowk’, this time written in Urdu, its flowing script as familiar as his mother’s handwriting. He reads it as swiftly as his own name, the words rolling off his tongue. This little familiarity is a relief, but it does not fill the hollow ache.
“I don't ignore the sign but read it out of necessity not out of endorsement to the external encroachment of the local cultural landscape,” Hussain says.
“But there’s nothing that is written in Kashmiri. I was born and raised in Kashmir and its culture and language fills all my veins and senses. Thus, it is a little disturbing to realise that even mundane signboards are so alien. Earlier, it was mostly Urdu and English, which we are still familiar with. Now we see more of use of the Devnagari,” he says, trying to explain his exasperation.
“More than 90 percent of literate and semi-literate in Kashmir can’t read the script,” Hussain says, pointing to the irony of how the ‘local’ has been displaced with the ‘official’, signifying a “potential erasure of the indigenous identity.”
A Sense of Erasure
Hussain’s anguish is echoed by many appalled by government policies that they feel are re-shaping the cultural landscape of Kashmir.
The abrogation of Article 370 in August 2019 and the subsequent reorganization of the region have prompted fears about the future of Kashmiri identity, culture and heritage. For many, this marks the beginning of an identity crisis, as political changes seem to threaten the very essence of Kashmiri selfhood.
Rashid, a communications student, says that many official policies and actions seem to suggest that there is a deliberate attempt to erase the local culture and language and impose on it an alien one.
An ongoing programme (April 5-April 13) organized by the Ministry of Minority Affairs Government of India in the University of Kashmir is being seen as the latest example of that.
The function celebrating the craft, creation, art and heritage of India is titled “Lok Samvardhan Parv”, viewed as a very Sanskritised version of Hindi. The posters are mostly in Hindi but there are also Urdu and English versions using the same vocabulary with which most students and teachers on campus are unfamiliar.
A participant mocked at the irony of the posters and banners and the chief minister’s claims of such events fostering ‘a sense of belonging and unity’. “These claims are hollow. If it is about unity, and the idea is to promote culture and heritage, why is Kashmiri missing?” she questions.
Before 2019, Urdu and English were the official languages in the erstwhile state, even though over a dozen recognised languages and their various dialects are spoken in the region. The Indian government tabled the Jammu and Kashmir Official Languages Bill in the parliament in 2020 and the bill became a law without inviting opinions or discussions from the stakeholders within.
The 2020 J&K Official Languages Act recognizes Hindi, Dogri and Kashmiri as additional official languages in the Union Territory of Jammu and Kashmir. However, Kashmiris are appalled that instead of promoting Kashmiri, which is the language of majority, there is a bureaucratic push to replace the once familiar Urdu with Hindi and a completely alien script – Devnagari.
Urdu is a widely used language in Jammu and Kashmir. Many historical and political works have been penned in Urdu and most newspapers published from the region are also in Urdu.
History of Urdu as official language
Urdu was established as the official language during Maharaja Pratap Singh's regime in 1889, before which the official language was Persian. While a generally accepted view is that Urdu was established as Kashmir's official language in 1889, some historians like Hamidi Kashmiri have debated whether it first arrived in the 15th century during Zain-ul-Abideen's rule or gained prominence later during Sikh governance.
Later after 1947, Urdu was adopted as one of the official languages apart from English.
27-year-old history scholar, Hurair, tries to place the current predicament of Kashmiris in this historical context.
“In the past, it was quite common to see signboards in Urdu or English across Kashmir, and people were generally comfortable with it. These languages were dominant in public spaces and in communication. They had existed for decades. But gradually, there was a significant shift in how young Kashmiris viewed their language and cultural identity,” he says.
“With government’s proactive efforts to instead impose a completely unfamiliar language makes the discomfort go even deeper,” he adds.
This view of unraveling Kashmir’s connection with different languages resonates with many educated youths who have begun looking at the region’s past decades and centuries before 2019.
Both Urdu and English were imposed on Kashmiris, a cross section of youth opine. They see the imposition of Hindi and its gradual normalisation as part of that continuity. Some of them are critical of how the government, including the political dispensation, is sidelining Kashmiri.
Hamid points out that last month, the Jammu and Kashmir legislative assembly Speaker Abdul Rahim Rather requested National Conference MLA Altaf Ahmad Wani to address in Urdu, not in Kashmiri. “The Speaker’s interruption, requesting that he address in Urdu, is unjustified and disappointing when Kashmiri is included in the official languages.”
Wani, in the assembly, had objected to the Speaker’s request, pointing out that Jammu-based MLAs were speaking in Dogri on the floor of the house.
Resentment Beyond Language
The disappointment doesn’t just stem from the neglect of Kashmiri and imposition of Hindi or other languages over the ‘mother tongue’.
Several recent incidents point to Kashmiris’ unease with what is being seen as the erasure of local sensibilities and promotion of alien cultures despite local discomfort.
Last month, a signboard, which was installed by the Traders Association Central Lal Chowk Srinagar, welcomed visitors with a message encouraging them to “love and cherish their families” while respecting local traditions. It specifically advised tourists to refrain from consuming alcohol, using drugs, spitting on the streets, and smoking in public areas.
However, within an hour of its installation, authorities reportedly took it down, prompting accusations of cultural suppression and a lack of political will.
The Traders Association of Central Lal Chowk, which had installed the signboard, viewed its removal as a direct reminder of Kashmir’s political vulnerability. “The administration couldn’t even allow a simple civic appeal to remain in place. What kind of governance is this?” one trader asked.
Citizens and political parties took to social media and expressed their frustration, “Kashmiris aren’t even allowed to request basic decency from tourists now. Even a simple board promoting respect and cleanliness is a threat to fragile egos,” wrote one X user.
Kashmir an Orwellian Nightmare
The disappearance of the signboard prompted parliamentarian Agha Ruhullah Mehdi to remark on X: “Will @JmuKmrPolice clarify which law was violated by the signboard? Or is the only law in place the one that silences Kashmiris?”
In a series of tweets, Mehdi criticized the LG administration accusing it of being in cahoots with the security forces, has turned Kashmir into an Orwellian nightmare — where people can’t protest, safeguard their identity, or even speak for their culture.”
Mehdi warned that such actions could intensify local resentment. “Suppression breeds resentment. The more you push Kashmiris to the wall, the stronger their will to break it down,” he said. He urged law enforcement to act responsibly, stating, “@JmuKmrPolice is advised to not work like a colonial power but work and behave as local police guided by law and respectful to the community and its sensitivities.”
Mehdi’s warnings were ignored. Few weeks later during Ramadan, the organization of a fashion show by a luxury brand in Gulmarg triggered a bigger backlash in Kashmir.
Ella India’s, ‘Shivan and Narresh’ held a day-long fashion show showcasing scantily clothed male and female models walking on an outdoor ramp made of snow. In another video, booze was seen flowing in designer glassware against the backdrop of snow-capped mountains of Gulmarg.
The event evoked strong protest from the political circles and civil society who took exception to what they called “onslaught on our culture during the holy month of Ramazan.”
Hurriyat chairman Mirwaiz Umar Farooq said that he was “outraged” by the show.
“That In the holy month of Ramzan an obscene fashion show is organised in Gulmarg, pictures & videos from which have gone viral sparking shock and anger among people. How could it be tolerated in the valley known for its Sufi saint culture and the deeply religious outlook of its people? Those involved should be immediately held accountable. Such obscenity in the name of tourism promotion will not be tolerated in Kashmir.!” he posted on X.
Chief minster Omar Abdullah also ordered an inquiry and asked the local authority to submit a report in 24 hours before him. The outcome of the report is not known.
Cultural Awareness
Hurair reasons that the recent outrage is largely due to a growing cultural awareness. “Kashmiris have long embraced cross-cultural influences, which contributed to their diverse heritage. However, in recent years, there has been a noticeable pushback against what is seen as the erosion of local traditions,” he says.
“With the rise of social media and discussions around cultural pride, many young Kashmiris have started to see external influences — whether from Hindi, Urdu, or English — as a threat to their cultural identity,” Hurair says.
There is, however, a generational difference in how Urdu is viewed. For 75-year-old Rouf Mir, Urdu is neither foreign nor imposed. It is a language that shaped his education, cultural life, and means of communication for decades.
“We had books in Urdu and English,” he recalls. “It was the language that connected us to the outside world,” he says but admits that Urdu over-shadowed Kashmiri. “My children don’t speak Kashmiri much. They speak Urdu or English.” His bigger concern is that now Hindi will overshadow all languages those they are familiar with as well as their mother tongue.
It is this consciousness that is compelling many educated Kashmiri youth to increasingly identify with their native language and push back against external pressures. “A growing trend is that the Hindi is seen as a language of ‘Indians,’ and therefore rejected by the informed youth,” Hurair opines.
However, some feel that the news consciousness also stems from the government’s aggressive push to impose Hindi and alien cultures. Another student, who requested anonymity, refers to it as "Indianisation of Kashmir".
"This is a conscious attempt to put Hindi language everywhere. Can't tourists read English? Why can't we have Kashmiri language on the signboards? Isn't it our regional language? Who here speaks or reads Hindi?” she questions.
Some youths are also taking inspiration from similar movements in other states like Tamil Nadu and Karnataka where local languages are being promoted over Hindi or English, driven by concerns of cultural invasion. A Kashmiri visitor to Gujarat echoed the same sentiment on Instagram: "On a visit to Gujarat, I noticed every board in the state is in Gujarati or English. In Kashmir, all the boards are in Urdu, Hindi, and English — none of which is the local language. If Gujaratis could have their own language, why can't the Kashmiris?"
Another student invokes Johan Galtung, a pioneer of Peace and Conflict Studies, who stated that "language is an important tool of imperialism as the domination of one collectively over another. It limits the access of other languages to produce knowledge and discourses."
Neglect – From Language To Authors
A Middle-school teacher from Baramulla, Mohammad Irfan, who is making attempts to revive Kashmiri in school says the problem has been systemic neglect of Kashmiri language.
“There’s no Kashmiri curriculum, no storybooks, no online dictionaries,” he says, as he tries to teach his students while writing Kashmiri words on a cracked chalkboard in wobbly white strokes.
“It’s not easy,” he says.
For decades, Kashmiri has been sidelined in schools — an elective at best, overshadowed by English’s promise of jobs and Urdu’s historical weight.
But post-2019, the neglect has expanded from language to culture, poetry and narratives by Kashmiris. The locals were aghast when in 2023, Kashmir University and Cluster University removed the works by renowned Kashmiri authors such as Agha Shahid Ali and Basharat Peer from their Master's curricula.
Kashmir University had earlier included three of Shahid's poems — Postcard from Kashmir, In Arabic, and The Last Saffron — talking about displacement and identity, and Peer's bestselling memoir Curfewed Nights about growing up in an armed conflict.
Kashmir Cluster University omitted two of Ali's poems, I See Kashmir from New Delhi at Midnight and Call Me Ishmael Tonight, meshing eastern and western literary roots. The universities alleged this "resistance literature" promoted a "secessionist attitude" among students.
Saqib, 26, a history student comments, such exclusions of Kashmiri culture, identity, ideas and sensitivities have contributed to the local resentment. Juxtaposed with this, the imposition of alien cultures and languages further exacerbates the growing disappointments, pushing people to find ways for cultural and linguistic revival.
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