Kashmir's People-Pleasing Problem

Kashmir’s joint family will remain cherished culture, but it should never again be mistaken for religious obligation or marital prison.

- Aaqyb Ashraf

My cousin Aadil got married in 2022. He moved his wife into the old family house on the banks of the Jhelum: four floors, three brothers, two uncles, one kitchen, and fifteen opinions.

Six months later, his wife stopped smiling at breakfast.

His mother asked why she hadn’t lit the kitchen by seven. His sister complained the new bride used too much hot water. His aunt counted how many rotis disappeared from the plate.

Aadil still loved his parents. He also loved the girl who now cried in the bathroom. Something had to change.

He found a two-bedroom flat in Hyderpora, twelve minutes away by scooter.

But the day he told his mother, she put her hand on her heart and said the words every Kashmiri child learns before they learn to read: “Lukh kya wanan?” What will people say?

His father added the second line we all know: “Lukh karan kathe.” People will talk.

The whole mohalla practised the sentence for weeks.

We treat the joint family like the fifth pillar of Islam. We swear separate living dishonours parents. We never open the Quran to check.

The holy book says Allah created spouses so you “find tranquility in them” (Surah Ar-Rum 30:21).

That tranquility feels impossible when your mother-in-law times your showers and your sister-in-law decides how many cardigans your baby needs.