As one of the oldest bookstores in Srinagar shuts, it is high time to revive Kashmir’s literary heritage
The news hit like a quiet storm: Srinagar’s oldest bookstore has shut its doors forever. No noise, no outrage ,just silence. A silence that echoes the turning of the last page in a book no longer read.
It wasn’t just a shop that closed, it was a sanctuary. A small space filled not with goods, but with dreams, ideas, and voices from worlds far and near. That store stood like a sentinel of knowledge, gently guarding the words of Faiz, Iqbal, Rumi, Ghalib, and so many others who once inspired generations. Today, its doors are shut. Its shelves empty. The pages that once whispered to curious minds now rest in darkness.
“People do not read anymore,” the owner says. And it hurts. Not because he is wrong, but because he is heartbreakingly right.
We live in an age of distraction. A world where the glow of screens has replaced the scent of paper. Where fast-scrolling fingers have taken the place of slow-turning pages, where instant likes matter more than lasting lessons, and in this digital flood, books, those sacred vessels of wisdom, are slowly drowning.
Kashmir, a land once known for its poets, philosophers, and scholars, now watches quietly as its literary soul fades. In a place where stories were once passed from lips to hearts and from hearts to books, we now see a generation growing up detached from that legacy. It’s not that the youth lack brilliance. They do. But the bridge to their roots, the books that connect them to the past and prepare them for the future, is collapsing.
I remember the smell of old pages. The joy of discovering a worn-out book tucked in a corner. The conversations that followed reading a powerful line. I remember the store owner’s warm smile, his eyes lighting up when someone asked for a rare title. It wasn’t a transaction; it was a bond. A shared love. A quiet revolution of the mind.
Now that bookstore is gone. And with it, a piece of our cultural spine has broken.
But should we just mourn? Or must we wake up?
This isn’t just about a bookstore. This is about a culture under threat. A generation is forgetting the taste of deep thinking, the silence of reflection, and the magic of getting lost in a book. And when reading ends, empathy fades. Thought dies. Voices go unheard.
A few years ago, Iqbal Ahmad poignantly wrote in Greater Kashmir: “There are no takers for writers.” He highlighted the growing neglect of local authors and the fading recognition of literary voices within Kashmir. That piece, powerful then, is hauntingly prophetic today. What was once a warning now feels like a eulogy.
The government, the education system, civil society, everyone must now play a role. We need not just libraries, but living libraries, places that breathe with activity, where reading is celebrated, not forgotten. We need to integrate literature into everyday life, host book clubs in colleges, sponsor local bookstores, and make books affordable and visible again.
The government can and must support independent bookstores. These are not just shops, they are cultural institutions. They need grants, recognition, and protection. And above all, we need public campaigns to revive the reading habit, from primary schools to universities. Let no child grow up without knowing the joy of holding a book.
To parents, I say: before you buy your child a new gadget, buy them a story. To teachers: teach not just textbooks, but the power of storytelling. To youth: don’t let the wisdom of centuries slip away in the noise of the moment. Read, because reading builds you quietly and deeply.
The closure of that bookstore is a wound. But perhaps it is also a call. A call to save what remains. A call to rebuild what we are losing.
We must not let our literary legacy end with a shuttered shop and a forgotten shelf.
Let us write new chapters.
Let us turn the tide.
Let us read again.
Ishfaq Manzoor (wa************@***il.com)
Khan Irshad (kh************@***il.com)