Review: Loal Kashmir—Love and longing in a torn land

I’ll do my best to share my thoughts on the book without revealing too much—because who enjoys spoilers, right?

I pre-ordered this book, and upon seeing the table of contents, my first thought was, “there has never been a book like this written about Kashmir.”

After finishing the book in just two days, I can confidently say, “more such books need to be written about Kashmir.”

The book is incredibly well-researched and offers an empathetic portrayal of Kashmiri youth, whose lives were dramatically altered by the forces of politics. This was not just a minor disruption; it was a storm—a political hurricane—that swept through their lives, leaving their personal stories to bear the brunt of its collateral damage.

For those who are not Kashmiri, this book will undoubtedly foster a deep respect for a people who have mastered the art of resilience in the face of adversity.

However, if you are Kashmiri, you will find pieces of yourself in these stories. Whether it’s the creative ways people learned to communicate, from handwritten letters to Bluetooth tricks, or the classic Kashmiri old-school romance blossoming in the local lanes, the book brings a wave of nostalgia.

Some parts will make you smile, while others might bring back tears and anger.

In every way, this book tries to capture the essence of a regular Kashmiri—broken yet resilient, finding humor in the darkest situations, and living in a state of contradiction, both hopeless and hopeful at once. Mehak has managed to paint a vivid picture of everyday Kashmiris who often remain hidden behind the sensationalized narratives of the media.

[Image: Facebook/Bahrisons Booksellers.]

However, this book fell short of a five-star rating for me because certain elements didn’t resonate, especially considering my personal experience living through all three time periods depicted.

The book lacks critical context. As a Kashmiri who grew up in the 90s, I felt the book downplays brutal crackdowns and humanitarian crises in Kashmir.

While I do understand that the focus of the book is primarily on stories of love between spouses, friends, and families, the larger realities of oppression and humiliation during those times being side-stepped, make these stories come across as superficial.

The first story, set in the 1990s, trivializes the era’s violence by reducing it to a love letter discovered by the army, which ends in an ‘all is well situation’. But the crackdowns of that time were brutal and relentless. Even the word crackdown sends a chill down my spine decades later.

When the ‘ragda ragda’ period is mentioned, the story reduces it only to a love tale, erasing the context and time in which this tale happened, and the sheer terror and violence that defined those years.

Even childhood in Kashmir is romanticized, failing to show what growing up in a conflict truly meant. The book’s selective storytelling feels like an attempt to sanitize Kashmir’s reality for “mainstream” acceptance.

By prioritizing love stories over lived trauma, it normalizes suffering and strips away the true depth of what it meant to survive those times. For a young person, to be able to make it back home safe from tuitions escaping the teargas and pellets would be a much larger concern at that time than being unable to chat with a friend.

Further, when it came to the characters, I wanted to know more about how their personalities evolved during the turmoil and what shaped them.

For instance, did young Ahmad and Zulfi ever discuss the tense political climate of the late ’80s while studying together? Did Moin and Shirin talk about Kashmir’s situation in their Facebook chats, reflecting how young minds process turmoil? How did the non-Kashmiri Rehan view the situation in Kashmir beyond his long-distance marriage struggles with his Kashmiri bride?

While reading about Khawar and Iqra’s exchanged letters via ambulance drivers during the curfew days, I wish the author had delved into the frustrations doctors faced at work, witnessing their people suffer during clashes, breaking down in closed office spaces, and the environment in which this love blossoms.

These missed opportunities left me wanting more.

Each story Mehak chose deserves an entire book of its own, as the lives of Kashmiris are never one-dimensional. Many of us carry the scars of PTSD from decades of turmoil. Something as simple as a phone call or a daily greeting to parents living far away becomes a struggle that leaves lasting marks on one’s personality.

Would I recommend this book? Absolutely, 100%. The author has done a fantastic job of striking a balance between the narrative, the words, and the navigation that many Kashmiri writers are familiar with.

The world needs to understand that, even in the 21st century, there are days when Kashmiris have no choice but to rely on old methods of communication, like letters, while the rest of the world moves into the metaverse.

Ambreen Rasool is the founder of The Quillers’ Club and author of the book ‘The Adventures of Iya and Zoey’.