Gowher Bhat
In the heart of Srinagar, the Sri Pratap Singh Library stands like a relic of a bygone era. Its wooden shelves groan under the weight of untouched books, dust settling into the creases of pages that once fluttered with life. Not long ago, these halls buzzed with students—pens scratching, whispers of poetry floating through the air. Today, 19-year-old Aamir sits outside on the library steps, his earphones plugged in, scrolling through reels on Instagram. A tattered copy of ‘The Prophet’ lies beside him, unopened. “I bought it because it looked cool,” he admits with a shrug. “But who has the time?”
Kashmir, once a cradle of readers, is losing its literary soul. The rustle of pages has given way to the ping of notifications. Where books were once companions—tucked into school bags, read under flickering gas lamps during endless power cuts—they are now ornaments, gathering dust in homes and shops. The youth, caught in a whirlwind of screens, exams, and streaming, are drifting away from a habit that once defined generations.
The Digital Vortex
Walk into any café in Srinagar, and the scene repeats itself: young Kashmiris hunched over phones, fingers dancing across screens. Take 22-year-old Mehak, a university student sipping coffee at a downtown joint. A copy of Kashmir: The Untold Story sits on her table, but her eyes are glued to a YouTube vlog about local influencers. “Books take too long,” she says. “Videos tell me everything in five minutes.”
She’s not alone. A 2023 Pew Research Center report pegs screen time among young people at over seven hours daily, most of it spent on bite-sized content—memes, TikToks, X posts. In India, a 2022 National Book Trust survey found that only one in four young people reads for pleasure, a figure shrinking year by year. Psychologists like Dr. Maryanne Wolf, author of Reader, Come Home, warn of a “skimming culture” overtaking deep reading. “We’re wiring our brains for speed, not depth,” she says. In Kashmir, this shift is stark—students who once devoured Premchand’s stories now struggle to finish a paragraph without checking their phones.
The Exam Trap
Education in Kashmir is a pressure cooker. Parents dream of their children as doctors, engineers, or IAS officers, and the path is paved with coaching classes and endless cramming. Take 17-year-old Bilal from Anantnag, a wiry boy with dark circles under his eyes. He’s preparing for NEET, his days a blur of physics formulas and mock tests. “I loved reading Ruskin Bond as a kid,” he says wistfully. “Now, if it’s not in the syllabus, I can’t touch it.”
A study by Azim Premji University echoes his reality: over 70% of students in competitive streams read only textbooks. The Sri Pratap Singh Library, once a refuge for curious minds, now sees more pigeons than people. “Kids don’t come here anymore,” sighs librarian Ghulam Nabi, 58, adjusting his glasses. “They’re too busy chasing marks.”
Streaming Over Stories
Books once reigned as Kashmir’s escape. Now, they’re outshone by Netflix and YouTube. At a Baramulla bus stand, 20-year-old Zahid watches *Squid Game* on his phone, earbuds drowning out the world. “Why read when I can watch?” he asks, grinning. “It’s faster, and the visuals are insane.” A 2021 Nielsen report backs him up: young Indians spend over four hours daily on video content, leaving little room for the slow burn of a novel.
Contrast this with 65-year-old Abdul Rahim, a retired teacher sitting nearby with a worn copy of *The Kashmir Shawl*. “We grew up imagining the worlds books painted,” he says, shaking his head. “Now, kids just want it spoon-fed.”
The Missing Mentors
Reading was once a family affair in Kashmir. Parents read Ghalib, siblings swapped dog-eared novels. Today, that tradition is fraying. In Lal Chowk, veteran bookseller Mohammad Shafi, 70, leans against a stack of unsold titles. “People used to queue up for new releases,” he recalls. “Now, they snap photos of books for Instagram and walk away.” His shop, once a literary hub, feels more like a museum.
The ripple effect is real. A 2019 American Academy of Pediatrics study found that kids raised around books develop sharper minds and deeper empathy. Without role models, Kashmir’s youth are losing that edge.
The Stakes
A society that stops reading risks more than boredom. Critical thinking dulls, imaginations wither. Neuroscientist Dr. Stanislas Dehaene notes that reading boosts memory and problem-solving—skills Kashmir needs in its complex reality. A Harvard study adds that it slashes stress by 68% and guards against cognitive decline. Without it, conversations grow shallow, and the ability to sift truth from noise weakens.
A Flicker of Hope
Yet, there are glimmers. At a small book club in Pulwama, 16-year-old Sana reads aloud from The Night Diary, her friends leaning in. “It’s like a secret world,” she says, eyes bright. Initiatives could fan this spark—schools prioritizing literature, libraries hosting discussions, e-books bridging the tech gap. Parents picking up novels again could tip the scales.
In a quiet Srinagar alley, a boy cracks open The Alchemist. The world fades as he turns the page. Maybe it starts here. Maybe that’s enough.
