The echoes of recent conflict linger not only in shattered homes but in wounded minds. As the dust settles after a near-war episode, a generation shaped by unrest finds itself wrestling with existential dread, broken aspirations, and the quiet devastation of mental strain. This battle, though fought far from the frontlines, seeps deep into daily life, unyielding and unseen, reports Umaima Reshi
“In war, there are no unwounded soldiers. Everyone is affected, whether leaders, soldiers, or ordinary people,” Argentine writer, Jose Narosky, quoted a rehab psychologist, saying. “War does not only bring a crippling fiscal crisis; it leaves lasting damage to mental and social wellbeing. Its mental toll may not be immediate, but if the impact goes unaddressed, it can manifest as cognitive disturbances.”
On April 22, the Pahalgam massacre claimed 26 innocent lives, shattering the veneer of Kashmir’s oft-talked-about normalcy.
India’s response, Operation Sindoor, was not confined to diplomatic countermeasures. The repercussions infiltrated the daily lives of ordinary citizens, breeding confusion, mental strain, and fear.
Airports were shut down, flights cancelled, and schools and universities closed. Tensions escalated as India used missile and drone strikes on Pakistan. Blackout protocols were enforced, power was cut off, and sirens echoed through the night. People remained indoors, seeking a fragile sense of safety.
For many, it was a moment when war felt imminent, every second inching closer to escalation.
But how do ordinary people endure such times? The spectre of war loomed like a dark cloud over the human psyche. The dread of escalation, coupled with uncertainty, induced restlessness, disrupted sleep, and a pervasive sense of insecurity.
On May 11, fleeting relief washed over the region with news of a ceasefire. But suspicion lingered over the agreement brokered by US President. Mere hours after both nations declared a halt to hostilities, explosions echoed through Kashmir’s urban areas. Drones, reportedly launched from Pakistan, streaked across the night sky, prompting swift interception.
Hours after the ‘ceasefire’, even the Chief Minister of Jammu and Kashmir was unsure. “What the hell just happened to the ceasefire? Explosions heard across Srinagar,” Omar Abdullah tweeted, heightened the confusion, as thuds continued tolling late in the night. Mushtaq, 40, recalled the chaos. “We did not understand what was happening. Even our leaders were confused — how could we feel safe?” he said.
“Jang Ha Loguv Bei Hoo! (We are at war again!)” shouted an auto-rickshaw driver rushing through Ghanta Ghar, a fruit vendor recounted. “Out of nowhere, I saw flames shoot across the sky, just above my head, while I was slicing watermelons.”
“It must have been around 9 pm, maybe later, when I saw them — drones or shells, I could not tell — gliding ominously overhead,” he said.
Chaos erupted. Panic surged as people scattered, each racing to the perceived safety of home.
“But what stunned everyone was the timing,” the vendor continued. “A ceasefire had been declared just three hours earlier. Why then? It felt like a cruel joke on the brief calm we had dared to embrace.”
“Even though the explosions have stopped, every sudden sound sends chills down our spines,” said Gulzar, a cobbler and father of two. “It feels like war could erupt at any moment. The trauma has etched itself into our minds.”
Impact on Families
“He does not let go of the corner of my pheran,” says Teathi, a grandmother to a seven-year-old boy. “emis chu taasav seeth phreth byoothmut,” she explains, noting that he is terrified by the explosions. The persistent noises and swirling rumours unsettle him. He clings to her, seeking solace amid uncertainty.
Psychologists warn that early exposure to fear and violence can severely impact a child’s emotional development, leaving scars that may persist into adulthood. “Children are often the worst affected. Prolonged conflict can disrupt their emotional growth and cause intense anxiety,” a clinical psychologist said. “War displaces families, breaks social connections, and erases any sense of security. The trauma extends beyond those directly affected, echoing across generations.”
Children are acutely sensitive to the emotional atmosphere around them, the psychologist adds. “When adults are distressed, children absorb that unease. They may not have the words to express it, but their behaviour reveals it: withdrawal, stubbornness, or fear of sleeping alone.”
A mother of four from Kupwara described the toll on her children. “They are afraid to step outside because we kept telling them to stay indoors due to the explosions. Now, they do not even want to go to school. We are giving them time to adjust.”
Rukhsaar, a homemaker, says her ten-year-old son has begun bedwetting again, a problem he had previously overcome. “He did not witness the difficult days in Kashmir that I did, but the recent blasts have brought back old fears,” she informed. “He is anxious, startled by every loud sound. He refuses to sleep alone, waking up trembling, afraid another explosion is imminent.”
The Guilt of Distance
For some, distance from home has become its source of anguish. A Kashmiri student studying in Bangladesh speaks of the overwhelming guilt she feels. “The ceasefire brought a brief moment of relief, but I still worry about my parents. Being far away, I feel like I abandoned them to fend for themselves,” she said on the phone.
“When I first heard about the confrontation, it felt as if everything was collapsing,” she recalled. “I kept thinking about my parents, wondering if they were safe. I felt helpless, caught between my studies and the fear for my family.”
A student from Uri, now in Chandigarh, describes the mental toll of being away from home during the conflict. “The lack of clear information creates a mental vacuum,” she said. “People fill it with fear. Those near the border live with that fear daily. It is exhausting, mentally and emotionally.”
Displaced and Devastated
During the recent escalation between India and Pakistan, tens of thousands of civilians were forced to flee border areas in Jammu and Kashmir. Shelling and drone attacks drove many from their homes, seeking safety in uncertain refuge. Despite a declared ceasefire, few families returned, fearing renewed violence. The situation left communities shattered, with damaged property and a persistent sense of insecurity.
“It is never easy to leave home,” said a Poonch resident. “How do you process the idea of abandoning everything because two countries decide to clash? It is exhausting.”
For those living near the border, the constant fear became suffocating. “I have grown up hearing gunfire, but this time it is different,” he said. “Leaving your home, not for a better life but just to survive, is deeply unsettling. And knowing there is nowhere truly safe makes it worse.”
“Do we not deserve a life?” asked another Poonch resident. “Our routines, work, school, everything, are disrupted. And we are left with no one to turn to, no one to listen to our suffering. It is mentally exhausting, utterly draining.”
The War Within
For families with vulnerable members, the recent conflict heightened existing anxieties. “I had to keep extra medicine at home for my son,” said a mother from Jammu. “He is already battling depression and physical health issues. In situations like this, I cannot risk his condition getting worse. The fear of how he would cope frightened me more than the prospect of war.”
Dr Mushtaq A Margoob, a leading psychiatrist in Kashmir, said the aftermath of the Pahalgam attack brought a surge of trauma cases to his clinic and community mental health centres. “The incident forced many to relive buried traumas,” he said. “Trauma does not fade with time. It lingers, fragments a person’s sense of self, and can resurface unexpectedly.”
Trauma is at the core of Kashmir’s drug abuse crisis, he believes. “Substance use becomes a way to escape a reality that feels too unsafe to endure,” he said. “When everyday life is marked by unpredictability and fear, it alters a person’s entire worldview, creating deep emotional scars.”
He explained that chronic psychological stress has impacted brain development in young people in Kashmir. “Our studies show cognitive impairment and, in severe cases, the emergence of personality disorders,” he said. “Many who previously made progress in managing their trauma have now relapsed, brought back to where they started.”
“I am back to taking my sleeping and cardiac pills,” said a working woman with an anxiety disorder. “I used to exhaust myself to sleep, but now the fear keeps me awake. I thought I had made progress, but it feels like all that effort was in vain.”
Psychologist Wasim Kakroo said the night-time drone strikes intensified the distress. “For those already struggling with anxiety, PTSD, or depression, the recent tensions became unbearable. The instability deepened their suffering, further eroding their mental health,” he said.
Impact on Youth
A 2020 qualitative study, Mental Health in the Face of Armed Conflict: Experience from Young Adults of Kashmir, examined the psychological toll of conflict on the region’s youth. The survey included 680 undergraduate and postgraduate students, exploring their experiences of conflict and its impact on mental and physical health.
The findings were stark: 99 per cent reported experiencing intense, threatening situations, 95 per cent acknowledged psychological distress, 60.3 per cent mentioned physical ailments, and 91 per cent observed a decline in the mental health of those around them. Nearly all participants, 99 per cent, believed political unrest had severely disrupted their education.
The data underscores how a pervasive sense of fear and instability continues to haunt Kashmir’s youth, leaving deep psychological scars.
Existential Dread
For many young people who had grown up in relative calm, the recent India-Pakistan confrontation was a harsh initiation into the reality of war. Until then, conflict was something they had encountered through textbooks, films, or news reports. But as explosions echoed through the night, fear became tangible, manifesting in sleepless nights and trembling hands.
Yusra, 22, described a tense exchange with her mother during the four-day confrontation. “She said she has seen enough in her lifetime. ‘It is better if it all ends once and for all,’ she told me. She is exhausted, tired of the same cycle of violence. ‘It is better to die once than to die a little every day.’”
Amber, however, resisted this fatalistic outlook. “Why should I bear this?” she said. “I have not even lived yet. I have dreams to pursue and a future to build. Why cannot we just have a normal life with a clear, final resolution that brings peace?”
Bareekah, another young woman, expressed a similar conflict. “My elders just want an end to it all. During the shelling, they were anxious and frightened, but there was also a strange resignation. My younger siblings, though, were simply terrified. The moment gunfire started, they would burst into tears and hide beneath blankets. This is not the life anyone should have to accept. We all deserve something better, something normal.”
Coping Mechanisms
Rehabilitation psychologist Sumaira said practical steps could help ease the emotional burden. “Deep breathing and mindfulness can calm the mind. Limiting exposure to news and social media prevents information overload. Establishing a daily routine, even a simple one, can provide stability. Leisure activities or hobbies can offer a much-needed distraction.”
According to Sumaira, war’s psychological toll extends beyond conflict zones. Anxiety, depression, and PTSD become common, especially among children and young adults. “Fear and helplessness leave lasting scars that may not be visible but are deeply felt,” she said. “Healing must not only restore systems but also the minds that bear the invisible weight of war.”
