There is something deeply disturbing about how pain in Kashmir is packaged, sold, and recycled. Our grief has become a tool of politics, our tragedy a permanent currency in the elections, and our wounds – the open, oozing, infected wounds – have become career ladders for those who claim to represent us.

Kashmir has been a bleeding land, and every drop has been commodified. I say this not merely as a witness, but as a victim – whose land was grabbed in the chaos, whose home was silenced by deceit, whose voice was ignored in the din of political slogans. I say this because I refuse to lie to myself anymore. The bitter truth is: Kashmir’s sorrow is no longer a burden for politicians to solve. It is a resource for them to exploit.

Tragedy as Political Capital

There was a time when the funeral of a slain civilian or a martyred soldier would unite people in grief. Now, those funerals are photo ops. Political leaders arrive – not to offer condolence, but to appear visible. They wipe tears while looking into cameras. They promise “justice” while already negotiating alliances behind closed doors.

The pattern is now ritualistic. A tragedy strikes. Anger flares. Politicians tweet. A visit is made. A compensation is announced. A few television debates are held. Then silence returns. But the leaders walk away with one more notch of sympathy in their vote-bank. And we – the people – walk away a little more broken, a little more used.

Just a few days ago, a heart-warming “Iftar moment” between the children of two prominent dynastic political families made national headlines. Two children smiling in Ramadan warmth, while thousands of Kashmiri youth contemplate suicide over joblessness, helplessness, and hopelessness. The........

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