A Therapist’s Trauma

At a de-addiction centre in Kashmir, I see schoolboys with needle scars and mothers with trembling hands. The drug crisis is eating away our future.

- Kaisar Ahmad Malla

The boy in front of me looked about sixteen.

His school shoes were scuffed, his uniform shirt hung loose from his shoulders. He didn’t say a word as he sat down across from me.

His mother stood behind him, holding a plastic bag with some clothes. Her hands didn't stop shaking.

The boy had been using heroin for over a year. That morning, he had collapsed on their kitchen floor.

I work at a drug de-addiction facility in Kashmir. I've met hundreds of boys like him. They arrive with hollow cheeks and infected veins. Their parents often carry guilt on their faces, as if their love failed.

What used to be a rare tragedy in Kashmir has turned into a daily reality. We are watching an entire generation slide into addiction and disappear. And many are watching in silence.

I've seen heroin take over lives faster than any storm. At first, it was whispers: “he's fallen into bad company,” “she doesn’t come home anymore.”

Now, addiction walks the streets in broad daylight. Children skip school to find a fix. Hospitals report growing infections linked to shared needles. Shopkeepers know who the local addicts are. Some families hide it. Others run out of money, options, and strength.

According to data from 2023, around one million people in Jammu and Kashmir, about 8 to 10 percent of the population, are affected by substance abuse. More than half of them use opioids, mostly heroin.