The Qur'an Warns Against Waste. So Why Is Kashmir Overflowing With It?

(MENAFN- Kashmir Observer)
Representational Photo

By Aqib Ul Ahad Wani

Kashmir is changing, and not always for the better.

Walk along the banks of the Jhelum and you'll spot plastic bottles bobbing in the water. Drive through what used to be thick forest, and you'll find stumps and dust.

In villages and towns, garbage piles up faster than it's cleared. Some streams that once ran clear now carry more sewage than snowmelt.

It's not just a local problem. Climate change, pollution, and deforestation are hitting hard everywhere. But here in Kashmir, where nature has always been a part of daily life-where mountains, rivers, and orchards define our land-this crisis feels personal.

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And yet, in the middle of this mess, there's a wisdom that many of us grew up with but rarely connect to the environment anymore: our faith.

Islam has always had something to say about how we treat the Earth. But somewhere along the way, we stopped listening.

Take a closer look at the Qur'an and the teachings of the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH), and you'll see a clear message: nature isn't ours to abuse. It's a trust, a gift from God, and we're its caretakers.

In Islam, humans are not kings of creation. We are Khalifah, stewards. That means we're supposed to protect what's been placed in our care. That includes forests in Kupwara, the lakes in Ganderbal, the orchards in Shopian, and the wetlands in Pampore.

There's a verse in the Qur'an that says:

“Do not commit abuse on the Earth, spreading corruption.” (2:60)

That's not just about war or injustice. It's also about pollution. It's about cutting down trees recklessly. It's about pouring chemical waste into rivers. It's about turning meadows into dumping grounds.

And it's about waste.

We see it every day. Plastic wrappers along mountain trails, leftover food rotting outside markets, water flowing endlessly from public taps. But the Prophet (PBUH) once said:“Do not waste water, even if you are beside a flowing river.” That's not poetry. It's principle. Even at abundance, we're called to be mindful.

Think about how often Islam ties faith to cleanliness. Ritual washing before prayer uses water, but carefully. You're meant to use just enough, never too much. In fact, the Prophet used less than a litre of water for his ablution.

And it's not just water. Islam encourages planting trees and protecting animals. The Prophet said that planting a tree-even if the Day of Judgment is about to begin-counts as a good deed. That says something about hope. About responsibility. About the long view.

In Kashmir, we're already seeing what happens when that long view disappears.

Our glaciers are melting faster. Our springs are drying. Once, every village had its own nallah. Now, many rely on tanker water. The Dal Lake has shrunk. The Wular is choked with weeds and plastic. Wildlife like the hangul deer are nearing extinction. We've already lost snow leopards from many areas.

This isn't just climate change from somewhere else. It's also what we're doing right here.

But it doesn't have to stay this way. The Prophet established Hima-protected zones where grazing and hunting were limited so nature could recover. Early Muslims respected these areas. It's a model we could bring back in our own hills and forests.

Imagine if every mosque in Kashmir used its Friday sermon to talk about waste, water use, and tree planting. Imagine if our religious schools included environmental care as part of their curriculum. It wouldn't be a new idea. It would be a return.

Because these teachings have always been here. We just stopped connecting the dots.

Islam doesn't separate faith from the physical world. It links prayer to purity, charity to feeding animals, and good character to how we treat public spaces. Removing a thorn from a road is called charity in Islam. Can we imagine what littering says about us?

In a place as beautiful, and as fragile, as Kashmir, these lessons are not just spiritual. They're practical. They're urgent.

Maybe it's time we stopped looking only to governments and NGOs to fix our environment. Maybe we need to look inward, too. To our homes. Our habits. Our values. To the words we've read and repeated since childhood, but rarely applied to the Earth under our feet.

This World Environment Day, let's not just plant a sapling for a photo. Let's remember why planting matters in the first place. Let's go back to a kind of faith that not only lifts our hearts, but heals our land.

The writer is an environmentalist and currently works as a Legal Aid Defence Counsel at the District Legal Services Authority in Ganderbal.

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