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Kashmir’s lakes and wetlands are shrinking, polluted or disappearing, even as tourist images continue to present them as pristine landscapes.
A recent CAG report found that more than 70 per cent of wetlands and water bodies in Jammu and Kashmir have either shrunk or disappeared since the 1960s.
The loss of wetlands is affecting children’s daily lives, including play, health, schooling and their connection with nature.
More than 300 children across Kashmir are leading clean-up drives, plantation efforts and community campaigns to protect lakes, wetlands and springs.
For many, Kashmir's lakes exist first as spectacle, captured through Instagram reels and travel vlogs of the famed Kashmir Great Lakes Trek, where alpine waters like Vishansar and Gangbal appear impossibly blue against snow-lined mountains. These images travel widely, shaping an idea of Kashmir as untouched and pristine.
But the experience on the ground tells a very different story. Tourists arriving at several water bodies encounter sewage-laden waters, floating plastic waste, and lakes that have receded to the point of disappearance. The migratory birds that once arrived in their thousands from across the world, a point of pride for Kashmiris are gradually vanishing from many of these landscapes.
The scale of this loss is staggering. A recent Comptroller and Auditor General (CAG) report found that over 70 percent of wetlands and water bodies in Jammu and Kashmir have either shrunk or disappeared since the 1960s. Of the 697 lakes recorded in 1967, 315 have completely vanished, covering an area of 1,537.07 hectares.
But amidst all this what is becoming increasingly evident is that, in many parts of Kashmir, children are not just responding to this crisis in fact they are drawing others in. These children are leading their entire community in sustaining local environmental action in the absence of consistent institutional support.
Kashmir’s wetlands, including Wular, Hokersar, Haigam, Anchar, and the marshes feeding Dal Lake, are not aesthetic assets. They are integral parts of an ecological infrastructure built over the centuries. Their degradation has direct consequences on communities and traditional ways of life, particularly those dependent on fishing, agriculture, tourism, and allied livelihoods.
For children, these changes are immediate. As livelihoods become unstable, schooling and access to basic services are disrupted, while degraded air, water, and shrinking open spaces affect their health and play.
Locals say that in Kashmir, wetlands have always been more than ecological spaces. They have been part of how children grow up. These were places where they played, learned from nature, and built a connection with their environment. As these wetlands degrade, children are not just losing access to open spaces, but an entire way of experiencing their surroundings. This shift is subtle but deeply concerning for their overall development.
“Earlier, we used to spend most of our time near the water, playing, sitting with friends, boating, or just watching birds. Now those places are shrinking or dirty, and we don’t go there as often. Many children stay at home on their phones because there aren’t enough open spaces left. It feels like something important from our childhood is slowly disappearing,” said 16-year-old Ashfaq (name changed).
Through children’s collectives supported by local organisations such as Koshish, young people are engaging with environmental challenges in ways that formal systems have long struggled to sustain.
More than 300 children from various districts of Kashmir are constantly working to protect the wetlands and lakes. Under the “One Foot Forward” Clean & Green Drive, children groups took up a simple idea where each child would take responsibility for cleaning at least one foot of land every day. What began as a symbolic act quickly evolved into regular clean-up efforts, with children removing plastic waste, wrappers, and discarded materials from public spaces. Their actions began to influence others.
“Earlier, I would walk past garbage without thinking much about it. Now I feel responsible for keeping my surroundings clean. Seeing my surroundings clean has evolved my thought process so much that now If I see litter, I want to do something about it,” said 15-year-old Kausar (name changed).
On the other hand, “The Save Neel Naag” campaign emerged from an innocent question - “If Neel Naag gives us water and life, who is protecting Neel Naag?” raised during a children’s group meeting in Budgam.
The question led to action. Children visited the site, observed plastic waste and ecological decline, and concluded that the spring, known for its ecological and cultural significance, needed restoration, not just cleaning. They organised a plantation drive, mobilising parents and community members, and planted over 100 saplings near vulnerable areas. Unlike one-time efforts, they took responsibility for maintaining the plants, monitoring growth, watering them, and replacing those that did not survive.
Their persistence has begun to influence community behaviour, demonstrating how sustained, local action can reshape attitudes and build a sense of shared responsibility for protecting natural resources.
The impact of these initiatives has extended well beyond the sites they targeted. What the children began has quietly reshaped attitudes and behaviours across their communities.
Families who watched children conducting cleanliness drives and plantation drives became more conscious about waste disposal in their own households. Visitors to Neel Naag began showing greater respect for the site. Local stakeholders started supporting cleanliness efforts around the spring.
In households where children took part in the One Foot Forward drive, parents reported that their children were now encouraging environmentally responsible practices at home influencing purchasing habits, waste disposal, and how family members thought about public spaces.
“We used to think these issues were someone else's responsibility. Our children taught us that protecting nature begins with us”, said Abdul Qayoom Kumar, a resident of Budgam.
The shift of communities mobilised by the young is significant. The kind of trust and authenticity that comes from a neighbour's child asking you to care. As Dr Rouf Mohi-ud-Din Malik from Koshish points out, “when children raise these issues, communities respond differently.” Their ability to influence household behaviour, mobilise participation and sustain local action is significant.
But this also raises a critical question. Why are children having to fill gaps that formal governance systems have left unaddressed? As we know climate variability is further intensifying the situation. Erratic rainfall, receding glaciers, and rising temperatures are accelerating ecological degradation across Kashmir. Past events such as the 2014 floods have already demonstrated the consequences of weakened wetland systems.
The role of children’s collectives, therefore, cannot be seen as symbolic. It points to an alternative model of engagement that is localised, consistent, and rooted in lived realities.
In the absence of adequate systemic action, these children are stepping in as drivers of change, demonstrating what consistent, community-led action can achieve.
The challenge now is to ensure that this responsibility does not remain with them alone. Civil society organisations have a critical role to play in bridging the gap between communities and institutions by amplifying local voices, strengthening accountability, and ensuring that grassroots efforts are supported rather than isolated.
Kashmir has long existed in our collective imagination as a place of beauty. Its lakes, wetlands, and landscapes form the backdrop of countless memories, stories, and aspirations. But as these ecosystems continue to degrade, there is a real risk that this reality will slowly disappear.
But a postcard is what you hold on to when the real thing is gone. The children cleaning Neel Naag's banks, planting saplings they may never see fully grown, and picking plastic from shrinking lakeshores are not preserving a beautiful photograph. They are fighting to keep something alive, something that feeds their families, shapes their childhoods and defines what home means.
The question before us is not simply about wetland conservation. It is about whether the next generation will inherit these landscapes as living ecosystems or only as images and memories of what once was.
Soha Moitra is Director of Programmes, CRY - Child Rights and You
Views expressed are the author’s own and don’t necessarily reflect those of Down To Earth
