When the Tourists Stopped Coming

In the shadow of a tragedy far from its hills, Naranag stands still. Its silence is a testimony to lives paused, plans broken, and a future in waiting.

- Uzma Qadir Mir

Naranag is a village of stones and sky and silence. It sits tucked into the hills of Kangan, in Ganderbal district, a place where the ancient breath of temple ruins lingers among pine forests and the river Sindh curls like a song.

In summer, it hums with life. There are ponies clipping over trails. Tea stalls open early and sleep late. Young boys run alongside trekkers, offering directions or dreams. Women sweep porches of guesthouses. The whole village moves with the season, like a heartbeat in step with the footsteps of strangers.

But this summer is different. This summer, there is no sound.

It started far away, on April 22, 2025, in Pahalgam. A sudden attack. Violence, once again, breaking into the ordinary. And in its wake, a swift decision from the administration: shut down 48 tourist sites. Among them was Naranag.

The reasoning made sense. Safety. Prevention. A necessary pause.

But what does a pause mean when your entire life depends on motion?

Naranag, in the absence of tourists, becomes a ghost with memory. Guesthouses sit fully furnished, but empty. The roads that once echoed with horns and hooves now lie deserted, shaded by still trees. There are no footprints on the trail to Gangabal. No school-child is told to avoid the roadside traffic.