Kashmir's Drug Crisis Has Turned Attention Toward Portugal And Iceland

(MENAFN- Kashmir Observer) A pale spring sun hung above Srinagar one recent morning as a father waited outside a de-addiction center, clutching a packet of walnuts in one hand and his son's medical papers in the other.

Nurses moved through narrow corridors lined with young men wrapped in blankets. Some stared blankly at television screens mounted on peeling walls, others slept through withdrawal.

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One teenager sat beside his mother and rubbed his arms to calm the tremors.

Doctors at the center spoke in low voices about the age of their newest patients: fourteen, fifteen, sixteen.

Families once reluctantly talked about addiction behind closed doors. Entire neighbourhoods now speak about it openly because nearly every mohalla knows someone trapped inside it.

Lately, one family's cousin vanished after stealing money from home. Around the same time, a university student began injecting heroin. Elsewhere, a schoolboy started with pills and moved to syringes before he had even turned seventeen.

Figures released in Jammu and Kashmir reveal the scale of the crisis.

More than 5.4 lakh people in the region now use opioids. Drug addiction has tripled in three years. Nearly 1.68 lakh children between ages 10 and 17 have entered this web.

Health experts estimate that more than 33,000 syringes are used daily for heroin injections in the valley.

A senior medical expert once delivered a line that still echoes through Kashmir's hospitals and police stations:“We lost one generation to bullets. We may lose another to drugs.”

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On April 11, 2026, Jammu and Kashmir's lieutenant governor described drug abuse as“the most serious challenge facing J&K.”

Those words underlined a growing realization inside the valley. Addiction touches every layer of society. Doctors discuss it in hospitals, imams address it during Friday sermons, teachers see it inside classrooms, and parents discover it inside their own homes.

Many families trace the problem back to a familiar source: hopelessness.

Thousands of young Kashmiris spent years earning degrees with dreams of stable jobs and secure futures. Many found empty waiting rooms, delayed recruitments, and shrinking opportunities. Frustration settled into homes already strained by economic pressure and social anxiety.

Young men gathered at roadside shops and gaming cafés with little structure to their days. Some drifted toward pills, others entered networks built around heroin and injectable drugs.

Mental health counsellors in Srinagar say addiction often begins with boredom, loneliness, and despair before turning into dependency. Heroin then spreads through friendship circles, neighbourhood contacts, and local peddlers who promise escape and easy pleasure.

Parents and educators also describe another transformation inside Kashmiri society.

Previous generations grew up inside tightly connected communities where elders intervened quickly when children drifted toward harmful behaviour. Families visited one another daily, shopkeepers knew every household, and neighbours corrected children freely.

Many residents say those bonds weakened during recent decades. Apartment living, migration, rising consumer pressure, and endless screen time created distance inside communities that once functioned like extended families.

Parents often focused on appearances and material success while struggling to spend meaningful time with children. Smartphones came before discussions about discipline, money, and purpose. Scooters, expensive phones, and unrestricted internet access became symbols of status in middle-class neighbourhoods.

Children absorbed those priorities early.

Psychologists working with adolescents in Kashmir say many teenagers now define success through instant gratification. Social media influencers display wealth without effort. Gambling apps and online betting platforms target young users aggressively. Drug networks exploit the same hunger for quick escape and money.

Religious scholars and community elders increasingly frame the crisis through the language of halal and haram income.

Clerics in mosques throughout the valley speak about the spiritual and social consequences of money earned through narcotics, fraud, and gambling. They describe halal income as honest earning built through work, farming, craft, business, or skill. Haram wealth, they say, poisons homes even when it appears abundant.

Many families understand that lesson through painful experience.

Drug money has financed new houses, luxury cars, and lavish weddings in parts of Kashmir. Police investigations later exposed those same families as part of trafficking networks tied to heroin distribution.

Officers working on narcotics cases describe the trade as deeply organized and financially sophisticated. Kashmir Police registered about 1,000 NDPS cases during 2025 and arrested nearly 1,400 people. Authorities seized properties worth more than ₹70 crore connected to drug trafficking.

India's Narcotic Drugs and Psychotropic Substances Act provides prison terms ranging from 10 to 20 years for commercial trafficking. Repeat offenders can face enhanced punishment, including the death penalty under relevant provisions.

Police officers say aggressive enforcement remains essential because heroin now moves through school networks, rural villages, and urban neighbourhoods with alarming ease.

Doctors and addiction specialists, however, argue that punishment alone cannot solve a public health disaster of this scale.

They often point toward Portugal.

During the late 1990s, nearly 1 percent of Portugal's population struggled with heroin addiction, a figure many experts compare to Kashmir's current situation.

Portuguese authorities shifted policy in 2001 by expanding treatment, rehabilitation, counselling, and reintegration instead of relying mainly on criminal punishment.

Results emerged over the next two decades.

Heroin addiction dropped sharply. Overdose deaths fell by 93 percent, dropping from 80 deaths per million people to six. HIV infections linked to drug injection declined by 90 percent.

Nearly 75 percent of people with problematic drug use now receive treatment. Annual public spending remained below $10 per citizen.

Addiction researchers in Kashmir increasingly study Portugal's model while arguing for larger rehabilitation centers, stronger mental health support, and employment programs tied directly to recovery.

Experts also point toward Iceland, which transformed teenage substance use through prevention.

During 1998, 42 percent of Icelandic teenagers reported drunkenness within the previous month. Authorities responded by funding sports, arts, youth clubs, and parental engagement programs. Families signed formal pledges regarding supervision and curfews. Researchers surveyed teenagers annually and adjusted policy using real-time data.

Teen alcohol use later dropped from 42 percent to 5 percent. Cannabis use fell from 17 percent to 5 percent. More than 35 countries adopted versions of the Icelandic approach.

Community leaders in Kashmir believe similar investment in sports, arts, vocational training, and neighbourhood mentorship could redirect thousands of young lives.

Signs of that possibility already exist.

Government programs such as Mission Youth, Start-Up India, and Jammu and Kashmir's Skill Development Mission have encouraged a growing generation of young entrepreneurs. Small businesses now operate through e-commerce platforms, handicraft ventures, agri-tech services, tourism startups, and digital marketing firms.

Young Kashmiris who once waited exclusively for government jobs now run cafés, online stores, food businesses, renewable energy ventures, and craft workshops.

Many community educators argue that work itself serves as protection. Even modest daily income earned honestly creates structure, discipline, and self-worth. Rehabilitation specialists say nearly every successful recovery program in the world includes employment as a central pillar.

Stories from other parts of India reinforce that argument.

Entrepreneur Chinu Kala fled home at age fifteen and sold knives door to door for ₹20 a day before building a successful fashion business. Farrhad Acidwalla started an online company with ₹1,200 borrowed from his father while still a teenager. Raja Nayak rose from extreme poverty to build several companies. Rajan Singh used skill training to launch an online home furnishings business that transformed his family's fortunes.

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Their stories circulate widely in motivational workshops held in Kashmir's colleges and community centers.

Teachers, clerics, doctors, and social workers now repeat the same message with growing intensity: Kashmir's addiction crisis demands a social response as much as a policing response.

Many young Kashmiris already understand the stakes.

A former addict who completed rehabilitation in Srinagar recently stood before a room full of students and described the moment he realized heroin had consumed his life. He spoke about theft, shame, and withdrawal before describing the slow process of recovery through work, counselling, and family support.

Then he stopped and looked toward the students seated in silence.

“Someone gave me another chance,” he said.“Every young person here deserves one too.”

Outside the rehabilitation center in Srinagar, the father with the walnuts finally received permission to meet his son. He walked slowly through the corridor and disappeared behind a steel door.

Families throughout Kashmir now wait behind similar doors, hoping treatment, honesty, discipline, and community can still pull a generation back from the edge.

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