Go inside a newly built home in Srinagar and it tells a different story now. The ceilings are plain, the walls white, and the rooms open and bright. The walnut wood, papier-mâché panels, and Kashmiri carpets that once filled homes with colour and craft are disappearing. In their place stands a new idea of beauty.

For generations, Kashmiri homes told stories. The hand-carved bed, the copper samovar, and the woven rug spoke of memory and place. A home was not just shelter but a living museum of family life.

Today, that sense of rootedness is being replaced by minimalism. The new Kashmiri homeowner wants space that feels light, manageable, and modern.

This shift mirrors the mood of a generation raised in change and uncertainty. Many young Kashmiris see minimalism as a kind of relief, a way to create calm when the world outside feels unstable. Clean walls and simple furniture give them control over at least one part of life. As a young designer in Srinagar said,“We grew up surrounded by heaviness. Minimalism feels like air.”

Interior design studios across the valley confirm this change. They receive daily requests for“European-style” or“Scandinavian” interiors: pale colours, sleek lines, and little decoration. Social media fuels this trend, shaping taste through a steady stream of curated images.

The result is a new Kashmiri aesthetic that looks outward for inspiration and inward for peace.

But this transformation carries an emotional cost. The craftsmen who painted papier-mâché patterns or carved walnut latticework now face uncertain futures. Their skills, once passed from father to son, risk fading from memory. Losing these crafts means losing a link to heritage and community.

Every culture evolves, and change brings freshness. But something essential goes missing when beauty becomes uniform. A Kashmiri home once reflected its land: textured, layered, and full of stories. The new homes, clean and global, risk feeling unanchored.

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