✒️:. Abdul Rouf /Narvaw
Winter is often described as a season of beauty, peace, and celebration. For many, it arrives with comfort and excitement. Social media platforms are filled with images and videos of people enjoying winter holidays, travelling to snow-covered destinations, relishing warm and nourishing food, attending festivals, and participating in winter sports. In places like Gulmarg, tourists can be seen skiing, riding cable cars, and celebrating snowfall with laughter and joy. For the affluent sections of society, winter is a luxury eagerly awaited and thoroughly enjoyed.
However, beyond this glittering surface lies another, far more painful reality.
For thousands of underprivileged families, winter is not a season of celebration but a struggle for survival. It exposes deep social and economic inequalities. While some enjoy heated rooms and festive meals, others are forced to endure freezing nights without proper shelter, warm clothing, or sufficient food. Illnesses such as severe cold, respiratory infections, and fever become common, particularly among children and the elderly.
Last year, a close friend of mine, who is actively involved in social work, visited a nearby village. What he witnessed there left a lasting impact on him. He recently narrated to me that the village was only a short distance away, yet the living conditions were shockingly harsh. Many homes lacked proper heating systems, and broken windows allowed icy winds to enter. He spoke to several residents who revealed that winter forces them into debt every year. They take loans in advance, not for comfort, but to purchase medicines, and basic food supplies.
During his visit, he met a daily wage labourer and father of three. Winter had brought his work to a halt. His youngest child was suffering from a persistent cough and fever, worsened by the biting cold inside their poorly insulated home. With no savings left, he borrowed money from a local lender to buy medicines and fuel. Each night, he stayed awake feeding the fire, fearing it might die out before morning. As snow fell quietly outside, he folded his hands in prayer, not for luxury, but for survival. For him, winter was not poetry or beauty, it was a relentless test of endurance.
Such stories remind us that winter is not the same for everyone. While some welcome snowfall with joy, others dread its arrival. Winter, therefore, stands as a powerful mirror of our society, a blessing for the privileged and a curse for the forgotten.
From my personal view, the shortening of winter in Kashmir may also be understood through a deeply human and emotional lens. For those who suffer the most, winter becomes a season of silent prayers. Families facing cold, illness, and hunger often pray to the Almighty to keep this harsh season away from their homes. Perhaps these countless prayers born of pain and helplessness symbolically explain why winter feels shorter here. Many families lose health, income, and time during these months. What winter takes away through suffering, they struggle to recover in summer through relentless labour. Summer becomes a season of repayment of debts.
This reality demands reflection and responsibility. When people are forced to pray for a season to disappear, it is not merely a personal sorrow but a collective failure that demands attention. It is a clear sign that society must act through empathy, awareness, and concrete support for those who are most vulnerable. Helping those who suffer is not merely an act of charity or goodwill, it is a moral, social, and human obligation that defines the conscience of a society. If one person lives in pain, humanity as a whole must feel that pain. Only when compassion turns into sustained action through care, inclusion, and shared responsibility will winter cease to be a curse for anyone.



