There are many ways of governing a land. One is to look at it primarily through the statistics of roads, bridges, power, employment, tourism and investment. Another is to recognise that a civilisation is sustained not merely by its physical infrastructure but also by its collective memory, sacred geography, cultural confidence and moral imagination. In Jammu and Kashmir, the present administration under Lieutenant Governor Manoj Sinha appears increasingly conscious of this second dimension. Alongside roads, tourism infrastructure, urban renewal and economic development, there has been a visible emphasis on recovering the region’s cultural and spiritual inheritance. At the centre of this effort is an idea that is both ancient and remarkably contemporary: Kashmir as a meeting ground of Rishi, Sufi, Shaiva, Buddhist, Sikh and other traditions, where spiritual wisdom became a language of coexistence rather than division.
The recent Interfaith Dialogue on “Urdu, Kashmiriyat and Shared Cultural Traditions” at SKICC on 27 June 2026 provided perhaps the clearest public expression of this approach. Organised by the National Council for Promotion of Urdu Language and the Inter Faith Harmony Foundation of India, the event brought together the themes of language, spirituality, Kashmiriyat and shared heritage. Lieutenant Governor Manoj Sinha argued that India’s civilisational strength lies in respect for different faiths and in allowing diverse traditions to flourish. Dr Karan Singh, another important voice at the gathering, described Kashmir’s heritage in terms of coexistence, Kashmiriyat, Sufism and shared cultural values, recalling Mahatma Gandhi’s famous description of Kashmir during the violence of Partition as a “ray of hope.” The importance of the gathering lay not merely in the speeches delivered there, but in the larger proposition that Kashmir’s pluralistic inheritance can once again become a source of social confidence and inter-community dialogue.
This initiative becomes more meaningful when viewed against the wider cultural direction emerging in Jammu and Kashmir. For decades, the dominant national narrative about Kashmir was overwhelmingly shaped by conflict—militancy, terrorism, separatism, security, elections and political uncertainty. Those realities cannot simply be wished away. But a society cannot be understood exclusively through its wounds. Kashmir has another story: the story of Lalleshwari and Sheikh Noor-ud-din Noorani; of Shaivism and Sufism; of Sanskrit and Persian; of the Rishi tradition and the khanqah; of vakhs and shrukhs; of temples, mosques, shrines and springs; of poetry, music, handicrafts and hospitality. The present administration’s growing emphasis on this inheritance represents an attempt to place this other Kashmir back at the centre of public consciousness.
The Rishi-Sufi tradition is particularly important because its genius was not simply that Hindus and Muslims happened to live alongside one another. Its deeper achievement was the creation of a shared spiritual vocabulary. Lal Ded could speak in a language that transcended conventional religious boundaries. Nund Rishi could emerge from an Islamic mystical framework while becoming an icon of Kashmiri cultural consciousness. Sufi shrines became spaces where people of different backgrounds could encounter a spiritual culture centred on humility, service, compassion and devotion. This is why the repeated invocation of Lal Ded, Nund Rishi, Kabir, Guru Nanak and other spiritual figures is significant. The objective is not simply to commemorate historical personalities but to bring their teachings into contemporary public life. At the Lal Ded Literary Awards, for instance, Sinha urged writers and intellectuals to transmit the teachings of figures such as Lal Ded, Nund Rishi, Kabir, Guru Nanak and Tulsidas to younger generations. The underlying message is that Kashmir’s spiritual inheritance should not remain trapped in museums, academic papers or commemorative speeches; it should become part of the ethical education of the next generation.
This is also where the administration’s emphasis on interfaith dialogue assumes significance. Coexistence by itself is not enough. Communities can live beside one another for centuries without genuinely understanding one another. The next step is dialogue. The 27 June SKICC conference brought Urdu, Kashmiriyat, interfaith understanding and shared cultural traditions onto one platform. Urdu, in this context, becomes much more than a language. It becomes a cultural meeting ground, a linguistic space in which Persian, Arabic, Sanskrit, Hindi and several regional traditions have historically interacted. The participation of institutions associated with interfaith understanding, Dara Shikoh’s intellectual legacy and Kashmir’s literary community gave the conference an intellectual breadth that went beyond conventional government programming. It conveyed an important idea: dialogue itself is a form of social infrastructure. Roads connect places; dialogue connects people.
But spirituality cannot live entirely in conferences. It requires places. Kashmir’s temples, springs, monasteries, mosques, khanqahs, dargahs and other sacred spaces constitute the physical geography of its civilisational memory. Their restoration is therefore more than an architectural exercise. It is an attempt to repair the links between contemporary Kashmir and its historical consciousness. The reopening of the historic Vicharnag Temple in Srinagar in July 2026, after decades of closure, is a particularly striking example. Lieutenant Governor Manoj Sinha inaugurated the restored shrine and spoke of its historical significance as a centre of knowledge. The restoration was undertaken through the Vicharnag Asthapan Trust within the wider heritage-conservation ecosystem. Its significance goes beyond the restoration of a structure. A sacred site carries memories, stories, rituals and associations accumulated over generations. Restoring it is, in a sense, restoring a fragment of the collective memory of the Valley.
This approach is visible in the wider conservation of Jammu and Kashmir’s ancient heritage. Conservation work has been undertaken at a range of protected monuments, including ancient temples, Buddhist remains, Islamic monuments and other historic structures. Such an approach is important because Kashmir’s heritage cannot meaningfully be restored selectively. Its civilisational character emerged through interaction between traditions. Temple, mosque, monastery, shrine, tomb, spring and sacred mountain together constitute the heritage landscape of Kashmir. The restoration of one tradition’s monuments acquires even greater meaning when it occurs within a larger commitment to preserving the heritage of all.
There is consequently a deeper significance to the administration’s emphasis on sacred and cultural tourism. Kashmir has long been marketed as “Paradise on Earth”, primarily because of its mountains, lakes, meadows and breathtaking landscapes. There is now an opportunity to add another dimension to that identity: Kashmir as a land of spiritual wisdom and civilisational encounter. Properly conceived, spiritual tourism need not be merely an economic enterprise. It can encourage visitors and residents alike to discover the stories of saints, poets, philosophers and spiritual traditions that shaped the Valley. A journey to Kashmir can become not merely a journey through beautiful landscapes but a journey through centuries of spiritual and intellectual history.
The Sufi dimension of this revival is equally important. Any attempt to rediscover Kashmiriyat while ignoring Kashmir’s Sufi inheritance would be historically incomplete. The administration has repeatedly highlighted the role of Sufism in Kashmir’s social history and its potential to serve as a bridge between communities. Sufi conventions, programmes at shrines and efforts to improve facilities at important religious sites have brought questions of spirituality, harmony and social responsibility into public discourse. Here again, there is an interesting convergence between the physical and spiritual dimensions of governance. A shrine may represent transcendence, but devotees still require roads, sanitation, lighting, security, accommodation and dignified facilities. The work of administration therefore becomes intertwined with the religious and cultural life of society.
This is why the phrase “catering to the body and soul of Kashmir” is more than a rhetorical flourish. Development is not anti-spiritual. A repaired road to a shrine, a clean city, a revitalised public space, improved transport, better tourism infrastructure, restored heritage buildings and support for artisans all contribute to the physical wellbeing of society. But physical development without cultural memory can produce a prosperous society that has forgotten who it is. Conversely, nostalgia without development can produce a society that remembers its saints but cannot provide opportunities for its young people. The challenge is therefore to bring the two together. The body needs infrastructure; the soul needs meaning.
This synthesis is particularly relevant to Kashmir because its cultural economy is inseparable from its identity. Handicrafts, carpets, papier-mâché, woodcraft, literature, music, cuisine, traditional architecture and pilgrimage are not simply economic activities. They are repositories of memory. When traditional crafts are promoted, artisans supported and cultural festivals organised, livelihoods can be created while cultural inheritance is preserved. When literary and spiritual traditions are brought into public programmes, the objective can simultaneously be cultural preservation and intellectual renewal.
There is also an important dimension relating to the restoration of Kashmiri Pandit heritage. The reopening and restoration of Hindu temples and other sacred sites has significance for the Kashmiri Pandit community and for the larger idea of a Kashmir in which different communities can once again see themselves reflected in the landscape. Vicharnag is therefore not merely a religious site; its restoration can be understood as a symbolic affirmation that historical memory should not disappear because history passed through a traumatic period. A genuine revival of Kashmiriyat cannot mean restoring only one community’s memory. It must mean making room for everyone’s memory.
The administration’s engagement with environmental questions also fits naturally into this broader spiritual framework. The idea that the conservation of nature is a spiritual responsibility resonates strongly with Kashmir’s older traditions. The Rishi did not live in abstraction. The forest, spring, mountain, river and meadow were part of the spiritual world. Kashmir’s sacred geography itself emerged from an intimate relationship between human beings and nature. Protecting the environment, therefore, can be understood not merely as an ecological policy but as a way of recovering an older Kashmiri sensibility in which nature was not merely a commodity but a sacred trust.
Perhaps the greatest test of this entire cultural revival, however, is the younger generation. A civilisation survives only when its children inherit something more than its buildings. They must inherit its questions, stories, vocabulary and values. This makes the promotion of literature, cultural festivals, research, awards and programmes around Lal Ded, Nund Rishi and other spiritual figures especially important. A Kashmiri youngster should be able to encounter these figures not as distant names in a textbook but as living sources of ethical and intellectual inspiration. Their teachings can offer a language of humility without weakness, faith without hatred, spirituality without intolerance and rootedness without isolation.
There is, nevertheless, a danger in turning the Rishi-Sufi tradition into a slogan. Kashmiriyat cannot be manufactured through government conferences alone. Nor can a few restored monuments automatically recreate a social ethos that evolved over centuries. A living tradition requires families, schools, universities, ulema, pandits, civil society, writers, artists, religious institutions and ordinary citizens to participate. The administration can create the conditions. It can restore buildings, support institutions, organise dialogue, provide infrastructure and bring neglected traditions into public consciousness. But ultimately the tradition must be lived.
That is why the 27 June SKICC dialogue deserves to be seen as part of a larger process. Its importance lies not merely in what was said from the podium but in the larger question it raises: Can Kashmir’s past become a resource for its future? Can the memory of Lal Ded and Nund Rishi, the spiritual legacy of Sufism, the cultural history of Urdu, the architecture of ancient temples and shrines and the idea of Kashmiriyat become instruments for building a society that is simultaneously modern and rooted?
There is a tendency to imagine development and spirituality as opposites. Kashmir offers an opportunity to reject that binary. A modern Kashmir can have better roads and ancient shrines; technology and Sufism; universities and khanqahs; entrepreneurship and handicrafts; smart cities and sacred springs; tourism and pilgrimage; scientific education and the wisdom of Lal Ded and Nund Rishi. Indeed, perhaps this is what it means to care for both the body and soul of Kashmir.
The body is the infrastructure of everyday life: roads, electricity, hospitals, schools, tourism, employment, urban renewal, connectivity and economic opportunity. The soul is the invisible infrastructure: memory, compassion, faith, poetry, language, sacred places, hospitality, coexistence and the conviction that one’s neighbour’s humanity is not diminished by his or her difference. The challenge before any government is to ensure that neither is sacrificed for the other.
The emerging emphasis on Rishi-Sufi heritage, interfaith dialogue, Urdu, Kashmiriyat, sacred-site restoration, cultural festivals, environmental consciousness and spiritual tourism suggests an attempt to do precisely that. It is an attempt to move beyond a Kashmir defined only by conflict and towards a Kashmir understood also through its civilisation; beyond a landscape of political contestation towards a landscape of cultural encounter; beyond the preservation of monuments towards the restoration of memory.
And perhaps the most beautiful way to understand this moment is not that Kashmir is being asked to return to the past, but that it is being encouraged to carry the wisdom of its past into a modern future.
The Rishi and the Sufi did not teach Kashmir to escape the world. They taught it how to live in the world without losing the soul.
That may ultimately be the most valuable heritage Kashmir can offer India—and, in an age of religious polarisation, perhaps the world itself.
