Across numerous public and private institutions—banks, offices,
hospitality services, educational establishments, and government
counters—Kashmiri-speaking individuals routinely encounter avoidable
difficulties simply because the person serving them cannot understand their language, MUSHTAQ BALA
Mushtaq Bala
In the bustling corridors of Kashmir’s hospitals, amid the beeping monitors and hurried footsteps of healthcare workers, a quieter struggle unfolds daily—one that is rarely acknowledged but deeply felt. Patients and attendants who speak Kashmiri often find themselves unable to communicate vital information because many frontline staff members are unfamiliar with the local language. For someone already distressed by illness or the anxiety of tending to a loved one, this simple communication barrier can turn an already tense situation into a deeply uncomfortable one.
Yet, this issue is not confined to the healthcare sector alone. Across numerous public and private institutions—banks, offices, hospitality services, educational establishments, and government counters—Kashmiri-speaking individuals routinely encounter avoidable difficulties simply because the person serving them cannot understand their language. Over recent years, many personnel posted in the Valley hail from other parts of the country. While this contributes to diversity, the absence of basic linguistic orientation often results in friction, inconvenience, and emotional discomfort for the local population.
Take the example of an elderly woman in a hospital trying to explain her symptoms. She speaks slowly, in Kashmiri, struggling to describe her pain. The staff member, unable to comprehend, repeatedly asks questions in Hindi or English. The family steps in, frustrated and anxious. A few minutes of miscommunication may lead to delays in diagnosis, errors in understanding medical history, or feelings of humiliation. Similar scenes play out in banks where elderly citizens grapple with forms, or at mobile service outlets where simple queries become exhausting exchanges.
Language is not merely a tool of communication; it is a vessel of identity, comfort, and confidence. When individuals are forced to abandon their mother tongue in official or essential spaces, it often leads to discomfort, loss of confidence, and a subtle yet profound sense of alienation. A mother tongue is the language of instinctive expression—the one in which people articulate emotions, express pain, seek help, and describe the nuances of their experiences most accurately.
Across India, several regions have demonstrated that respect for the local language is not only possible but essential for effective governance, service delivery, and cultural preservation. In South India, for instance, states like Tamil Nadu and Karnataka are uncompromising in protecting and promoting their mother tongues in everyday life. From government offices to hospitals, banks, public transport, and even private services, Tamil and Kannada hold a place of pride. Staff members are often required to have at least basic knowledge of the local language. This ensures that residents feel acknowledged and understood, and it simultaneously strengthens the cultural fabric.
Similarly, in Kolkata and across West Bengal, Bengali is deeply rooted in public life. Whether in hospitals, police stations, educational institutions, or government counters, the use of Bengali is not just encouraged—it is expected. This linguistic continuity does not hinder people from outside the state; instead, it cultivates a sense of belonging and mutual respect. Migrants adapt over time, learning enough of the local language to communicate effectively. The system ensures that the mother tongue remains at the heart of daily interactions, preserving cultural identity while maintaining administrative efficiency.
Why then should Kashmiris be expected to communicate in anything other than Kashmiri when expressing their most personal concerns? The Valley’s unique linguistic heritage deserves the same level of respect and institutional recognition that languages in other states enjoy. Kashmiri is not only a language but a cultural treasure shaped by centuries of history, poetry, folklore, and identity. To sideline it in public-facing institutions risks gradually eroding a vital part of Kashmir’s collective identity.
The increasing deployment of workforce from outside J&K brings with it new responsibilities. It is neither feasible nor reasonable to expect every non-local staff member to become fluent in Kashmiri. However, basic language sensitivity training—covering essential phrases, common expressions, and fundamental conversational understanding—can significantly ease interactions. Even a small effort such as learning to ask patients, “Kya chu saet?” or “Kyaa chukh gavaan?” can make a world of difference. It shows respect, builds trust, and strengthens the bond between those who serve and those being served.
Institutions must also acknowledge that communication is not just a professional skill—it is an emotional one. Hospitals, especially, are places where people are at their most vulnerable. If a patient cannot articulate pain or describe symptoms comfortably, the entire care process suffers. Similarly, citizens dealing with financial, legal, educational, or administrative matters require clarity of understanding. Forcing them to navigate a foreign linguistic environment creates unnecessary stress and risks.
Preserving and prioritizing Kashmiri in public spaces is not about resisting diversity—it is about ensuring dignity. It is about recognizing that a mother tongue anchors people, especially in moments of distress. Just as Tamil Nadu takes pride in Tamil and West Bengal in Bengali, Kashmir must safeguard its linguistic identity by integrating Kashmiri more visibly and practically into public-facing services.
As J&K moves forward on its path of development, inclusive growth must respect the emotional and cultural comfort of its people. The right to speak and be understood in one’s mother tongue is fundamental. Local institutions, policymakers, administrators, and organizations must work collectively to ensure that language does not become a barrier in the very land where it was born.
For Kashmir to truly thrive, every individual must feel heard—not only through policies and promises but through words spoken in the language closest to their heart.
Mushtaq Bala is Editor-in-Chief of Kashmir Pen, an award-winning filmmaker, cultural commentator, and advocate for peace through narrative media.
