“The community has to step up. Mosques, community centers, social media, families—they all need to speak. Smoking isn’t just a personal problem. It’s a community issue.”
By Gowher Bhat
In Kashmir, smoking isn’t just a habit. It’s part of life for our youth. They start young, just a drag to fit in, to look grown. But it doesn’t stop there. It’s the second, the third. Before long, it’s part of who they are. The casual act, once done out of curiosity or rebellion, becomes a daily routine. They share it with friends, hidden in schoolyards or alleyways, the smoke curling up and dissipating into the air, a symbol of growing up.
Thirty percent of Kashmiri teens have smoked at least once. It’s not a small number. And it’s rising. The streets are full of it. Outside schools. On corners. In quiet parks. But it’s killing them. Slowly. They don’t see it. But we do. They laugh. They smoke. And each puff is another piece of their life slipping away. It’s a generation of young people at risk, not just physically, but emotionally and psychologically, as they fall into the trap of addiction and peer pressure.
They don’t realize it yet. The damage. They don’t see the scars on their lungs, on their hearts. They think they’re invincible. Until they’re not. And by then, it’s too late. By the time the symptoms emerge, it’s often far too difficult to reverse the damage. Chronic coughs, shortness of breath, and signs of early-stage heart disease begin to manifest. The worst part is, the habit is so deeply ingrained that quitting feels impossible, even in the face of dire health warnings.
Smoking isn’t just hurting them. It’s hurting their families, too. It’s the parents who watch their kids struggle to breathe, who see them growing sick. It’s the doctors, the hospitals, the costs. The burden falls on everyone. And now, cancer and heart disease are showing up in the young. Teenagers under 30 are getting cancer at rising rates—up by 2.5% annually. Heart disease, once a problem for the elderly, is now an issue for teens who smoke. No one talks about that. The emotional toll on families is devastating. Parents watch their children fight a battle they can never truly win. And the cycle continues—one generation to the next.
Schools are where we start. They teach the basics—pictures of lungs, cancer, the dangers. But it’s not enough. Kids need to hear from those who’ve lived it. Smokers who turned to the hospital rooms, who learned too late. They need the real stories. Not the kind that end with a lung picture, but the kind that ends in years of regret. The kind of stories that highlight the true cost of addiction—the missed opportunities, the loss of health, the pain endured.
We need to make it personal. If they see it, feel it—maybe they’ll stop before it’s too late. The schools have the power. They just need to use it. To make kids see what smoking does to their lives. Their futures. The cost is more than just health; it’s their chance at life. It’s the lost years, the emotional cost, the toll on relationships, and the feeling of never being able to fully recover from the damage done.
But it can’t be just the schools. The community has to step up. Mosques, community centers, social media, families—they all need to speak. Smoking isn’t just a personal problem. It’s a community issue. When a kid picks up a cigarette, they’re not just making a choice for themselves. They’re making a choice for everyone around them. They’re affecting their families, their friends, and the future of Kashmir.
We can’t just put up posters and hope it works. The message needs to come from everywhere. The mosque. The center. The family. When the community speaks with one voice, we drown out the ones telling kids it’s okay. Telling them it’s part of growing up. Those voices need to be quieted. And the message needs to be clear—smoking is a choice that destroys futures, and it’s a choice that is not part of our culture. It’s not a rite of passage, it’s a deadly habit.
And it’s not just awareness. It’s culture. Kashmir’s always been about family, tradition, health. Smoking has no place in that. It’s not part of us. Tea, kehwa, family gatherings—that’s what defines Kashmir. Smoking has no place in that. It never did. But somehow, it’s crept in. It’s seen as cool, sophisticated, part of growing up. But it’s not. It never was. It’s an alien influence, foreign to the values that have always defined us. It’s a quiet invasion, a subtle rebellion against the very culture that has kept us grounded for centuries.
We need to take back our culture. Remind ourselves of what really matters. Family. Connection. Health. Smoking isn’t part of that. Let’s make sure it never is. We have to show our youth that there are better ways to assert independence and deal with the challenges they face. Kashmir is a place of peace, of family ties and mutual support. Smoking is the opposite—it isolates, it weakens, it destroys.
We’re at a crossroads now. Kashmir is beautiful, resilient. But that doesn’t matter if we let this go on. Smoking’s taking their futures, one cigarette at a time. It’s a silent killer. Slowly, quietly, robbing them of their health, their happiness, their dreams. The youthful energy, the vigour of life, is being replaced by the tired, worn-out faces of addiction.
The World Health Organization says smoking’s responsible for 60% of cancers, and it’s behind heart disease. And it’s happening to the youth now. It doesn’t have to be this way. We can stop it. But we have to act. We can’t wait any longer for someone else to take charge. The fight must start with each of us—at home, in schools, in the mosque, in every corner of the community.
The youth of Kashmir deserve more. They deserve to live long, healthy lives. To grow up in a place where smoking’s not the norm. Where tea, kehwa, family—that’s what defines us. Not cigarettes. It’s time to take a stand. For the sake of their health, their futures, and the soul of Kashmir.
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