by Dr Aabid Nazir
By confronting the roots of overthinking and addiction, a transformation becomes possible, turning silent suffering into narratives of defiance and victory.
Beneath Kashmir’s breathtaking landscapes, where the Jhelum River winds through the Valley and snow-capped mountains stand as silent sentinels, a quiet storm brews. The region’s youth, bright, passionate, and full of potential, are caught in a dual crisis of overthinking and drug abuse. This invisible struggle, unfolding in homes, cafés, and dimly lit corners, threatens to derail an entire generation. While the world continues to marvel at Kashmir’s natural splendour, its young inhabitants battle to escape a labyrinth of mental exhaustion and chemical dependency. Their fight is not merely a local tragedy; it is a mirror reflecting the universal dilemmas of modernity, identity, and despair.
Kashmir’s youth rank among the most politically aware and intellectually vibrant in India. Raised in a region scarred by decades of conflict, they have inherited a legacy of unresolved questions surrounding identity, autonomy, and survival. This backdrop has sharpened their analytical faculties, yet also ensnared them in a cycle of relentless introspection. In cafés across Srinagar, on university campuses, and across social media platforms, young Kashmiris engage in fiery debates on geopolitics, cultural erosion, and socio-economic disparity. These conversations, while intellectually stimulating, often spiral into existential loops. The term “mental masturbation”, a colloquial expression for overindulgence in fruitless intellectualising, captures the phenomenon aptly.
This habit of overthinking serves not as a pastime but as a coping mechanism. For many, analysing the intricacies of Kashmir’s political situation or global injustices provides a fleeting sense of control. Yet, this illusion of productivity conceals a deeper helplessness. When every dialogue ends unresolved and ideas remain abstract, the mind begins to wither. The ceaseless churn of thoughts, on unemployment, societal pressure, or personal purpose, breeds emotional burnout. Over time, this mental fatigue mutates into apathy. Dreams of entrepreneurship, education, or activism give way to a numbing sense of futility. “Why bother?” becomes a familiar refrain, as the gulf between aspiration and action widens.
The rise of social media has exacerbated this crisis. Platforms such as Twitter and Instagram, though connecting Kashmir’s youth to global conversations, also inundate them with unending streams of opinions and crises. The compulsion to remain informed, to voice an opinion on every issue, fuels anxiety. Scrolling through digital feeds substitutes for real-world action and the boundary between awareness and obsession blurs. The result is a generation that is hyper-informed yet disempowered, minds cluttered with ideas but lacking the clarity or confidence to act.
Parallel to this mental health epidemic is the Valley’s spiralling drug crisis. Once rare, substance abuse has surged alarmingly. Heroin, cannabis, and prescription opioids are now widespread. Recent surveys suggest that over 70 per cent of drug users in Kashmir are under 30, with addiction rates doubling in just five years. For a society traditionally cautious of intoxicants, this transformation is both shocking and symptomatic of deeper societal ruptures.
The roots of this crisis lie embedded in Kashmir’s socio-political terrain. Chronic unemployment and joblessness hover around 25 per cent, leaving many feeling adrift. The absence of recreational avenues and the stigma surrounding mental health discussions deepen the sense of isolation. For young men and women burdened by familial expectations and uncertain futures, drugs become a means of silencing the noise of overthinking. A 19-year-old from Baramulla confesses, “When I smoke, my mind stops racing. For a few hours, I do not think about my failures or the world’s problems.”
But this respite is fleeting. Addiction quickly tightens its grip. Initial euphoria gives way to dependency, sapping motivation, corroding relationships, and eroding self-worth. Families, already frayed by decades of turmoil, are further ruptured by the shame and financial burden of addiction. Meanwhile, the drug trade flourishes in the shadows, targeting vulnerable youth. Peddlers, often stationed near schools and colleges, lure students with free samples. The infrastructure to combat this epidemic is woefully inadequate: Kashmir has fewer than ten rehabilitation centres to serve an estimated 500,000 users, leaving the afflicted with nowhere to turn.
The relationship between overthinking and drug use forms a cruel feedback loop. Chronic introspection gives rise to anxiety, depression, and insomnia, conditions that often drive individuals toward substance use. In turn, drug use hampers cognitive function, rendering it difficult to focus, plan, or escape destructive mental patterns. A university student in Kupwara articulates this paradox: “I started smoking weed to quiet my mind, but now I cannot concentrate on my studies. I lie awake at night hating myself, which makes me smoke even more.”
This cycle is entrenched by Kashmir’s volatile environment. The constant presence of military checkpoints, intermittent internet shutdowns, and the looming threat of violence amplify everyday stress. For youth raised amidst such instability, existential dread becomes second nature. Drugs become a misguided attempt to reclaim control. Yet, the cultural stigma surrounding mental illness deters many from seeking therapy, pushing them further into self-medication.
The consequences are devastating. A generation with the potential to lead, innovate, and transform is sinking into passivity. Talented artists, engineers, and thinkers are being silenced by their minds and addictions. Communities lose their future leaders, while the flourishing drug trade fuels criminality and corruption. If left unaddressed, this crisis threatens not only to hollow out Kashmir’s prospects but also to destabilise the region further.
Kashmir’s dual crisis of overthinking and addiction underscores the profound intersection of psychological and social turmoil. Yet amid this stark landscape, hope endures. The path to renewal lies in collective resolve, a confluence of empathy, policy reform, and community-led efforts.
Mental health must first be stripped of its stigma. Educational institutions should embed counselling services within their frameworks and teach practical coping tools such as mindfulness and problem-solving. Public awareness campaigns, helmed by survivors and trusted local voices, can help normalise discussions around anxiety and depression, making such conversations part of everyday discourse.
Tackling drug abuse demands a similarly multifaceted response. Law enforcement agencies must target the supply chains, disrupting the networks that prey on vulnerable youth. Simultaneously, the healthcare system must expand access to rehabilitation centres. With fewer than ten such facilities serving an estimated 500,000 users, the disparity is glaring. Community-led support groups, akin to Alcoholics Anonymous, could offer crucial peer-driven spaces for recovery, resilience, and reintegration.
There is also an urgent need to convert intellectual potential into action. Entrepreneurship hubs, vocational training centres, and art collectives can provide young people with the tools to realise their ideas. Initiatives such as Srinagar’s “Innovate Kashmir” start-up incubator, which mentors aspiring technologists, exemplify this transformative possibility. These platforms do more than support careers; they restore agency.
The broader societal narrative must evolve, too. Stories of resilience, like that of a former addict who now runs a bakery, or students organising mental health workshops, deserve celebration. These individuals are not merely survivors of crisis; they are architects of hope.
A way forward requires cooperation on every level. Parents must offer understanding without judgment. Teachers should nurture not just intellect but insight. Policymakers need to invest in youth-centred programmes that go beyond tokenism. For the young Kashmiri wrestling with internal torment, one truth must resonate: you are not alone, and your dreams are valid.
Kashmir’s mountains have weathered centuries of storms. Its youth, too, possess that unyielding resilience. By confronting the roots of overthinking and addiction, a transformation becomes possible, turning silent suffering into narratives of defiance and victory. The moment to act is not distant, it is now. For in their liberation lies the rebirth of a people. Thought must become a movement, and pain, purpose. Only then can the Valley reclaim its most vital treasure: its youth.
(The author is a junior resident at GMC. Ideas are personal.)
