Kashmir: A Valley of Hospitality, Not Hate

Today, my heart is heavy.

There has been an unfortunate attack on tourists in Pahalgam — an incident that shakes the very core of what Kashmir truly stands for. It is heartbreaking not just because of the violence, but because it contradicts everything our land has always represented: warmth, peace, and unmatched hospitality.

But this is not just an attack on tourists.
It is an attack on the dreams of countless Kashmiris.
It is an attack on the bread and butter of thousands of locals who feed their families by selling tea, guiding treks, driving taxis, running guesthouses — by welcoming these very tourists with open arms and open hearts.

Kashmir isn’t just snow-capped peaks and shikara rides. It is the smile of a driver who goes the extra mile for a guest, the heartfelt welcome of a family opening their home to strangers, and the soul of a people who carry centuries of tradition built on love and respect.

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine from the Andaman and Nicobar Islands visited Kashmir with his wife. I was concerned — not for their safety, but for whether they’d get the best experience, whether they'd be treated fairly. I gave them suggestions, shared contacts of travel agents I trusted. But they chose someone else I didn’t know.

I worried — would they be overcharged? Misguided?

But when they visited my home for dinner a few days later, I met their driver — a humble, kind man who treated them not as clients, but as family. Their experiences had been nothing short of magical, and I realized then: sometimes, we don’t need to plan everything for kindness to find its way. The spirit of Kashmir had embraced them, just like it always does.

This is not a one-time thing. I’ve seen it again and again — especially during harsh snowfalls in Gulmarg, Pahalgam, Doodhpathri. When roads were blocked and tourists stranded, it was local Kashmiris who opened their doors, their kitchens, and even their Masjids to provide warmth, food, and safety. They didn’t ask who you were or where you came from — only if you were okay.

We’ve seen posts on social media about lost phones, gold jewelry, even wallets — and time and time again, Kashmiris have returned them. No one reports these stories. But we see them. We live them.

And yet, a single violent act — like today’s attack, like those in Pulwama or Uri — becomes our label. Suddenly, we are no longer the generous hosts, the peace-loving people of the valley. Suddenly, we are branded, stereotyped, misrepresented — "terrorists" simply because of our faith or our geography.

This is not just unfair. It is cruel.

Kashmir is one of the safest places on the planet — not just for Muslims, but for Hindus, Sikhs, Christians, and people of every faith. Walk through our streets and you’ll hear greetings of peace. Stay in our homes and you’ll be treated like family. Visit our Masjids, and you’ll find space — not just to pray, but to rest, to heal, to belong.

One tragic incident cannot define a people. One act of violence must not overshadow millions of acts of love.

We condemn what happened today. We grieve with those who are hurting. But we also ask the world to remember: this is not who we are. This is not Kashmir.

We are the land of sufis and saints, of poets and shepherds, of almond blossoms and late-night kahwa. We are the people who offer our hearts before you even ask for help.

Do not let the darkness blind you to our light.

Kashmir lives in its people — and our hearts will always beat for peace.