Life on the Edge of Emergency in Kashmir

A first-person account of the pressures, frustrations, and small triumphs that define government hospitals in Kashmir.

- Faizaan Bashir

I've spent the last three years wandering Kashmir's government hospitals, where every step feels caught between hope and despair.

I have watched, listened, and waited.

The scenes I've seen are flashes, bits of life that cut across numbers and reports.

They are patients and attendants living in waiting rooms thick with anxiety. The unspoken terror of illness presses against every wall.

SKIMS, the biggest hospital here, welcomes the city's emergencies with a sincerity that often goes unseen. Most doctors are committed, alert, and empathetic.

In an emergency, where seconds matter, they perform miracles under pressure. But, pressure is a constant companion.

In the triage room, two or three doctors shoulder the care of patients arriving with terminal injuries, struggling hearts, or suffocating lungs.

Each doctor is a gatekeeper between life and death, but there are moments when the system itself feels like the enemy.

Patients wait on gurneys or lean against the shoulders of their attendants. Wheelchairs glide across floors crowded with suffering. The room carries the weight of expectation and exhaustion, a crowded stage where speed meets scarcity.