Development
Losing the village: How Kashmir’s countryside is being built over
People say they want peace. Fresh air. Fewer horns and more birds. That’s why they leave the city. But when they come to the villages of Kashmir, they don’t just bring their bags. They bring the city with them. Slowly, quietly, the villages change.
In Kashmir, the city’s edges are always pushing. Srinagar expands like a restless river. Every year, it reaches further. People from the bustling markets and choked neighbourhoods move out. They find a patch of green, a slope of orchard, a stillness they think they’ll preserve.
But it doesn’t stay still for long.
Houses rise. Concrete walls. Glass windows. No trace of the wooden eaves and sloping tin roofs that once caught the snow. Supermarkets arrive. Cafés follow. There are gyms now, where the sound of axes once echoed from the forests. It’s progress, some say.
Convenience, others argue. But the village knows what’s lost.
Ayoub Mir, a 60-year-old resident of Pulwama, laments the rapid changes. “We had open fields, and we knew every tree and stream. Now, it’s concrete. They say it’s development. But development for whom? Not for those of us who grew up here.”
Land and loss
A patch of paddy that fed a family for generations is suddenly worth millions. Who can say no? Land is sold. Farmland becomes plots. Plots become colonies. Builders promise comfort and luxury. They promise a view of the mountains. But the mountains are growing farther.
Only the billboards stand tall.
In districts like Budgam and Pulwama, the change is clear. The apple orchards shrink. The saffron fields stand uncertain. Even Ganderbal, once proud of its pastoral charm, now watches as housing schemes spread. The rivers that used to be only fishermen’s nets now reflect street lights.
Safi Khan, a 55-year-old from Budgam, sighs as he recalls the saffron fields. “My father spent his life tending to these fields. Now they’re gone. My children don’t know the soil. They
know screens and asphalt.”
The consequences are visible in the data. According to a 2025 report by the Jammu and Kashmir Housing and Urban Development Department, Srinagar’s urban sprawl has expanded by over 35% in the last decade. Meanwhile, agricultural land across the Kashmir Valley has reduced by 18%, with rapid residential expansion contributing to the loss.
People left behind
With the city comes division. The locals watch from their fading fields as strangers settle in. Land prices rise beyond reach. A young man who dreamed of building a home near his parents now finds his village unrecognisable. There are gates and guards where willow trees once grew.
The newcomers don’t always see it. They’re busy. They build schools for their children. They bring in doctors and engineers. But they forget the village schools that crumble. They forget the small clinics that served for decades. When everything becomes urban, what remains of the rural heart?
Jabbar Lone, 75, from Ganderbal, reminisces about the past. “We had a community. Now, it’s just neighbours who nod and move on. The village isn’t a village any more. It’s a town without roots.”
The influx of non-local developers and increasing land disputes further strain community relationships. According to the J&K Revenue Department, land conflict cases have surged by 40% in peri-urban regions over the last five years.
The water and the waste
In places like Anantnag and Baramulla, streams run slower. Waste from new settlements piles up. There’s talk of drainage systems, sewage plants. But talk moves slower than the construction. The Jhelum carries what it can, but it was never meant to carry this much.
Bore wells puncture the ground. Water tables fall. The lakes that once held the valley’s reflections now hold plastic. Nigeen Lake, once pristine, now fights the weight of both tourism and unchecked urban sprawl.
“The lake was our pride,” says Ayoub Mir. “But now it’s a dumping ground. Houseboats grow, waste floats, and no one listens.”
A report from the Kashmir Environment Protection Agency (KEPA) highlights that Nigeen and Dal Lakes have seen a 22% increase in waste deposits in the last decade. Experts warn that without immediate intervention, the water bodies could face irreversible damage.
What can be done?
It’s not too late. But it’s close. Urban planning needs to think beyond roads and buildings.
Buffer zones could be established to protect villages from encroachment. Agricultural lands must stay agricultural.
Local bodies, the panchayats, must have a voice. Let the villagers decide what their homes become. Encourage sustainable building—homes that match the valley’s soul. Promote green spaces, restore water bodies, and ensure waste management keeps pace with growth.
Kashmir can learn from places like Himachal Pradesh, where strict zoning laws protect the hills. Even in the United States, regions have implemented urban growth boundaries to preserve rural lands. Balance is possible. It’s hard, but so is watching a place disappear.
Organisations like the J&K Urban Planning and Development Authority have proposed smart growth strategies. Their model focusses on conserving natural resources, promoting eco-friendly construction, and ensuring inclusive growth.
A return to roots
Villages are more than open fields and clear skies. They’re stories. They’re hands pulling saffron threads, feet walking the soft mud of paddy fields, laughter shared under walnut trees. They’re elders who remember when the river was clean enough to drink from.
When people leave the city for the village, they think they’re finding peace. But peace isn’t a backdrop. It’s not something you can buy. It’s woven into the place itself. If they’re not careful, they’ll lose what they came for.
And once it’s gone, it won’t come back. Not in Kashmir. Not anywhere.
The future doesn’t have to mirror the mistakes of today. By embracing thoughtful planning and genuine respect for the land, Kashmir can ensure its villages remain vibrant, not vanished. After all, the valley’s beauty lies not just in its mountains and lakes, but in its people, its stories, and the quiet resilience of its villages.
Gowher Bhat is a published author, creative writer, and experienced English instructor.