Rallies on the streets don’t mean much when the shop counters remain open. The real question is whether ‘Nasha Mukti’ is a genuine commitment or just a convenient narrative that battles addiction at the podium while quietly protecting its supply.
Mir Owais
In Jammu and Kashmir, the push for a “Nasha Mukt” society is getting louder. We see the awareness drives, the rallies, the political speeches, and the banners in our towns warning about the drug menace. The message is practically unavoidable: substance abuse is tearing at Kashmir’s social fabric, and it’s going to take all of us to tackle it.
But if you look just past the public campaigns, there’s a glaring contradiction staring us in the face.
How exactly does a government fight addiction while keeping the supply lines wide open? It makes little sense for the administration to urge people to reject dependence while simultaneously allowing the open sale of alcohol across the Valley.
The disconnect is sharp. You’ve got “Nasha Mukt” plastered on billboards, yet the liquor counters stay open for business. The system seems entirely committed to fighting the fallout of addiction, just not its availability. We condemn the ruin it causes while carefully maintaining the very infrastructure that keeps it within arm’s reach.
Usually, tourism is the go-to excuse. We’re told that visitors need access to liquor, that it’s just a practical part of the hospitality industry, and that drying up the state would hurt the economy. That argument really needs a reality check.
Kashmir has never been a party destination. People don’t book trips to the Valley for the alcohol. They come for the mountains, the lakes, the changing seasons, the unmatched hospitality, and the deep spiritual quiet that defines this place. Its draw is its landscape and culture, not what’s sitting behind a licensed counter.
Assuming tourists need to drink to enjoy Kashmir frankly reduces the Valley’s rich identity to a cheap commercial excuse. Our natural beauty doesn’t require intoxication to be appreciated. Long before alcohol sales became a policy talking point, generations of travellers were drawn by Kashmir’s tranquillity and character.
And this isn’t just a talking point for one specific religious or political group. Jammu and Kashmir is home to Muslims, Hindus, Sikhs, and others with differing traditions, but there is a widespread, shared discomfort with normalising public alcohol consumption. For a long time, Kashmir has stood for restraint, family values, and spirituality. The unease around liquor sales isn’t just one community complaining; it’s a deep-seated social concern that crosses all identity lines.
This double standard became even more obvious when recent efforts to push for a dry-state framework were essentially brushed aside by the current administration. The takeaway was loud and clear: keep running the anti-addiction campaigns, but don’t touch the structural reforms.
So, is Nasha Mukti an actual policy, or is it just a performance?
When campaigns scale up, but the supply is protected, the gap between what we say and what we do is impossible to ignore. Awareness happens in public; availability happens in practice. You can’t ask families to fight addiction in their living rooms while refusing to tackle the systems that normalise it right out on the street.
If addiction is genuinely the emergency we say it is, token campaigns won’t cut it. Loud slogans aren’t a substitute for honest policy. Kashmir needs consistency. Fighting addiction while guarding the supply isn’t reform—it’s just hypocrisy.
Alcohol is not an economic necessity, but addiction is a crisis threatening our future; we can’t just fight it with posters and temporary speeches while leaving the commercial machinery completely untouched. Ultimately, rallies on the streets don’t mean much when the shop counters remain open.
The people of Jammu and Kashmir deserve clear policies that reflect their concerns, not just public performances. We all know addiction is dangerous; that’s no longer up for debate. The real question now is whether “Nasha Mukti” is a genuine commitment or just a convenient narrative that battles addiction at the podium while quietly protecting its supply.
The writer is pursuing Computer Science Engineering
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