Letter To Editor: The Cost Of Digital Overload In Kashmir

(MENAFN- Kashmir Observer)
Representational Photo

Silence once shaped the way we thought. Snowfall slowed time. Rivers set a pace for reflection. Now, that stillness is slipping away. It's replaced not by noise from war or politics, but by the pull of screens.

This generation isn't just growing up in uncertainty. It's growing up in constant distraction. Every reel, every ping, pulls us away from the world around us. What once inspired awe, like the first snow of winter, is now just a background for a selfie. The moment is captured but not lived.

The change is subtle but deep. Mornings begin with glowing screens, not prayer or fresh air. Nights end with scrolling, not thought. We think we're informed, but we rarely feel grounded. We're overwhelmed, yet bored. Surrounded by content, yet starving for meaning.

Even time with books, nature, or people is fractured. A message flashes. A headline tempts. Something“urgent” demands our thumb's attention. Slowly, our ability to sit with stillness, so central to Kashmiri life, starts to fade.

But beneath it all, something quiet resists.

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It's the part of us that remembers who we were before the feed. It knows a snowfall can still stop us in our tracks, if we let it. That our minds are sharper when not scattered. That a walk by the river, without a phone, can offer more insight than any trending clip.

This isn't a plea to abandon technology. It's a call to use it on our terms. To build habits that protect our inner lives. To remember that we are more than data points, and that our attention is worth defending.

Small steps matter. Turning off notifications. Reading for an hour without reaching for the phone. Watching snowfall with bare eyes, not filtered lenses.

Kashmir has always been a place of patience and power. That spirit is still here. But it needs our attention, literally.

The future won't belong to those who were always online. It will belong to those who knew when to log off, look around, and stay present.

Sincerely,

Shahzaib Al-Qudsi

Anantnag

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