Recently, the Jammu and Kashmir authorities issued a public health advisory warning against the use of spring water in Ganderbal and parts of Srinagar, citing alarming levels of contamination. There was a time in Kashmir when the arrival of a guest was marked not by the serving of tea but by the offering of fresh spring water – drawn from a sacred, gurgling source, poured into a gleaming copper tumbler, and handed over with pride. It was not just water; it was the soul of the land itself – cold as morning dew, sweet as the first rain of spring, and pure as a mother’s lullaby.
For centuries, the springs of Kashmir were more than sources of drinking water; they were objects of devotion, whispered into poetry, woven into folklore, and enshrined in the very psyche of its people. Today, those same springs stand as fetid, dying pools – polluted by neglect, vandalized by greed, and poisoned by our own hands.
When Springs Were Worshipped
Across cultures and civilizations, spring water has always been revered. Islam speaks of Zamzam, the sacred well in Mecca, its water considered a divine gift. The Quran (Surah Al-Waqi’ah, 56:31-32) describes heaven as a land of “gushing springs,” and Islamic scholars have long maintained that fresh, flowing water is among the purest blessings of Allah. Sufi poets like Jalaluddin Rumi likened spiritual enlightenment to a spring – “Go be like a spring that never ceases to flow, and let your spirit be the cool drink for thirsty souls.”
In Kashmiri Pandit traditions, springs have been regarded as tirthas, or holy crossings, where mortals touch the divine. The Rig Veda calls pure water “amrita” – nectar of immortality. The ancient Nilamata Purana, which describes the geography and sacredness of Kashmir, speaks of its countless springs as divine wombs from which purity and life emerged. The great Lal Ded often spoke of water as the soul’s purifier, reminding people that just as a spring cleanses the land, so should wisdom cleanse the heart. Similarly, Nund Rishi, used the metaphor of flowing water to signify purity, truth, and divine sustenance.
Reverence and Ruin
How Kashmiri Pandits and Kashmiri Muslims Once Cherished Natural Springs
| Aspect | Kashmiri Pandits | Kashmiri Muslims |
|---|---|---|
| Religious Significance | Springs considered tirthas (sacred places), often linked to deities like Goddess Sharika at Hari Parbat or Mata Ragnya at Tulla Mulla (Kheer Bhawani). | Springs viewed as divine blessings, often associated with Islamic saints (Auliyas) or considered symbols of purity and spiritual sustenance. |
| Mythology & Legends | Springs were said to be manifestations of divine energy; e.g., Kheer Bhawani Spring changes color, believed to reflect the goddess’s mood. | Many springs were believed to emerge where Sufi saints prayed or performed miracles, such as the spring at Chrar-e-Sharif, associated with Sheikh Noor-ud-Din Noorani (Nund Rishi). |
| Rituals & Worship | Pandits performed prayers and rituals at sacred springs, offering flowers, milk, and rice to the water. Annual festivals and Navreh (New Year) ceremonies often involved visits to springs. | Many Muslims performed ablution (wudu) using spring water before prayers and saw springs as places of barakah (spiritual grace). Some shrines had springs where people sought healing. |
| Daily Usage | Spring water was considered the purest for drinking, cooking, and religious rituals. Families stored it in copper vessels to maintain its sanctity. | Spring water was preferred for ablution, drinking, and cooking, with many believing it carried healing properties. Sufi poets compared spiritual purity to clear flowing water. |
| Symbolism in Poetry & Philosophy | Lal Ded (Lalleshwari) frequently used water imagery to describe spiritual wisdom, urging people to cleanse their souls like a flowing spring. | Nund Rishi described springs as symbols of divine mercy, emphasizing how they nourished both the land and the soul. |
| Spring Conservation | Kashmiri Pandits maintained sacred groves around springs, ensuring their protection. No defilement was allowed near these water sources. | Many springs were historically protected near Muslim shrines and mosques. People respected them as gifts from Allah and discouraged pollution. |
| Modern Neglect | The exodus of Pandits led to the neglect of temple springs, some of which were encroached upon or dried up due to lack of maintenance. | Once-sacred springs have been polluted by urbanization and waste, and reverence has eroded with time. Fewer people now associate springs with spirituality. |
What Went Wrong?
- The tragedy of Kashmir’s springs is not just one of environmental negligence but of cultural betrayal. We have not lost them to the fury of nature – we have abandoned them ourselves.
- As towns expanded and roads widened, no thought was given to the survival of the springs. Many of them were covered by concrete, suffocated beneath structures, or left to dry out as their underground sources were disrupted. The once-pristine water bodies that graced the old Srinagar city – springs in Habba Kadal, Nawab Bazar, and Zaina Kadal – are either encased in filth or have disappeared altogether.
- If Lalleshwari or Nund Rishi were to rise again today, they would weep at the sight of how their people have turned sacred waters into garbage dumps. Some years ago, the famous Chashme Shahi spring, once a symbol of purity, had to be cleaned of human waste – yes, human waste!
- There was a time when every village had a ‘nag’ (spring), and the people tended to it like a temple or a mosque. These springs were decorated with flowers, cleaned regularly, and protected as a collective responsibility. But somewhere along the way, this reverence was lost. The new generations, detached from their roots, no longer see the spring as a sacred entity but as an ordinary, expendable resource. What is not worshipped is not valued; what is not valued is abandoned. The very elders who once told stories of the magic of springs now warn their children not to drink from them. The disconnect is total; the wound, self-inflicted.
Returning Rishi Vaer Her Pristine Springs
Reversing the tragedy of Kashmir’s dying springs requires neither government intervention nor bureaucratic lip service – both the central and state authorities are too embroiled in political theatrics, vote-bank gimmicks, and useless policy deadlocks to care about reviving Rishi Vaer’s sacred waters. Expecting them to restore what was once revered is like waiting for a drought to bring rain. The only hope lies in community-driven action, where people reclaim their responsibility and reconnect with the land their ancestors once nurtured.
We have to begin with our children. Water literacy and conservation must be ingrained in them, so they grow up seeing springs as sacred, not as waste pits. A movement to clean and protect these water sources should be led by local volunteers, shrines, and educational institutions, fostering a culture of custodianship over negligence. If the people of Kashmir do not wake up now, their children will inherit a land where water flows only in memory and poetry – but never in reality. When that happens, we would have added more sins to ourselves already burdened with a quantum of them.
