From myth to reality: How Kashmiri youth perceive Pakistan today

For generations of Kashmiris, Pakistan has long existed as a distant idea, shaped by fascination, mythology, and imagination. In the 1980s and 1990s, that fascination had a particular tone: Pakistan was seen not merely as a neighbouring country but as a Muslim-majority nation that felt culturally and religiously familiar, yet geographically and politically removed.

Cricket matches against Pakistan were more than games—they were events that shaped youth imagination, identity, and even belonging. Imran Khan’s stride, Javed Miandad’s last-ball heroics in the Sharjah final, and Wasim Akram’s pace—these were heroic symbols that transcended sport, bringing the idea of Pakistan alive in the Valley’s alleys and schoolyards. Stories of Lahore’s bazaars, grand streets, and distant relatives added texture to a country that felt both real and unreachable.

Letters, occasional family visits, and anecdotes reinforced this perception. Pakistan existed as a parallel world, tied to Islamic identity, cultural commonality, and heroic narratives. For young Kashmiris, it was exciting, aspirational, and part of a distant dream.

Today, that image has shifted dramatically. Smartphones, social media, and constant connectivity have compressed distance, bringing Pakistan into the daily stream of life in Kashmir. Pakistan is no longer a far-off Islamic country; it is visible, comparable, and surprisingly familiar.

Videos, campus vlogs, lifestyle posts, and news reports show bustling streets, ordinary youth, economic struggles, and political instability—scenes that make the country’s society appear strikingly similar to India’s own. Social media has broken the myth of difference, replacing exotic imagination with grounded observation.

“The country we imagined as children feels very different now,” said Faheem, a businessman in his late 40s. “It’s not about heroes or Islamic identity anymore. You see protests, inflation, universities, and markets — it’s a society like ours, with problems and opportunities, just across a border.”

This realisation coincides with changing realities at home. Kashmiris note shrinking opportunities in the Valley, but economic instability, political uncertainty and terror attacks in Pakistan, widely circulated online, offer a comparative perspective. Youth now observe how society functions there and measure it against their own experiences—career prospects, education, and daily life.

Abdul Rashid, a shawl vendor from south Kashmir’s Anantnag district, reflects, “When I was young, we imagined Lahore bazaars as grand and different. Now we see life there on social media—it is much like here. You realise people face similar struggles and have similar routines. It’s no longer exotic; it’s real.”

Yet this awareness is tempered by the Valley’s own challenges in mainland India. Many Kashmiris travel to Hindi heartland states for work. There, they encounter harassment, suspicion, and occasional hostility, experiences widely shared online. Viral videos of Kashmiri workers facing abuse provide a sharp reality check: belonging and opportunity are not automatic, and social boundaries can shape experience as much as borders do.

Bilal, who works part-time in Delhi markets, sums it up: “We compare life here and there not out of fascination, but to see what works and what doesn’t. And when you go to Indian towns and face discrimination, it reminds you that opportunity alone isn’t enough—you need acceptance too.”

This generational shift is striking. Elders retain nostalgia for cricketing heroes and cultural stories, but younger Kashmiris navigate a more pragmatic, observational lens. Pakistan is no longer a distant symbol of Islamic identity or heroic imagination; it is a society like theirs, with struggles, aspirations and realities that can be compared, measured and understood.

Walking through Lal Chowk or Srinagar’s old city, one senses this quiet recalibration. Youth are reflective, aware and discerning. Social media feeds provide clarity and contrast. Economic realities, political instability, and personal encounters shape how they understand society across the border.

For readers outside Kashmir, this shift is instructive. The fascination with Pakistan as a distant Islamic ideal has evolved into sober observation: the society, its youth, its economy, and daily life are surprisingly similar to Kashmiris’ own. At the same time, harassment and discrimination in Hindi heartland states provide a tangible reality check about belonging and opportunity.

This generational recalibration is subtle but profound. Elders may still recall Imran Khan’s stride or Miandad’s Sharjah six with emotion, but younger Kashmiris are shaped by different reference points. In playgrounds and on social media, many now follow Surya Kumar Yadav’s innovation, Mohammad Shami’s discipline, and Jasprit Bumrah’s precision more closely than Babar Azam’s elegance, Mohammad Rizwan’s grit, or Shaheen Afridi’s pace. Sporting loyalties, once intertwined with larger narratives of identity, have become more straightforward and performance-driven.

What has changed is not just the perception of Pakistan, but the grammar of aspiration itself. Borders remain contested and politics unresolved, yet imagination has yielded to comparison. Pakistan is no longer a distant symbol; it is a society observed in real time, weighed against lived realities in Kashmir and across India. For many young people, identity is shaped less by inherited mythology and more by opportunity, dignity and acceptance. The shift is quiet, but it marks a decisive turn from symbolism to pragmatism.