How Kashmiri Netas Killed the Pahalgam Railway

When the proposal for a railway line to Pahalgam was first floated, it did not initially trigger ecological alarm bells. Kashmir had lived through far worse assaults on its environment – rivers reduced to drains, wetlands eaten away parcel by parcel, garbage dumped in floodplains, forests quietly surrendered to resorts and parking lots. None of these had ever provoked sustained political outrage.

But the railway did.

Almost overnight, Kashmiri netas discovered a deep and sudden concern for ecology. Press statements followed. Objections multiplied. Environmental arguments were rehearsed with unusual urgency. The same political class that had remained unmoved by drying rivers and choking lakes now spoke of “fragile ecosystems” and “irreversible damage.” A common Kashmiri has seen a chameleon a hundred times in them; a common Indian sees it only time to time.

The opposition did not emerge because the project was uniquely destructive. It emerged because the project was uniquely disruptive.

To understand this selective outrage, one only has to compare what should have worried Kashmiri netas with what actually did.

What Should Have Worried Kashmiri Netas vs What Actually Did

A railway line to Pahalgam threatened to alter a carefully preserved status quo. It would have reduced dependence on private vehicles, broken transport monopolies, and regulated fares that were otherwise dictated by seasonal demand and informal control. For the first time, access to Pahalgam would not have required submission to unions, intermediaries, or inflated pricing structures.

That prospect unsettled many. Mainly those who, ironically, still think Kashmir is their milqiyat.

So, environmental arguments were deployed selectively. No comparable resistance had ever been mounted against the thousands of diesel vehicles that clog the Pahalgam road each tourist season. No agitation followed the unregulated construction of hotels without sewage treatment. No political campaign was launched against garbage dumping along rivers or forest margins. These activities had been normalised – even enabled – because they fed the local rent economy.

The railway did not.

Another anxiety ran quietly beneath the surface: permanence. Roads can be blocked. Tourism can be throttled. Flow can be controlled. Railways, once laid, are difficult to interrupt. They signal continuity, predictability, and integration – attributes that do not sit comfortably with political ecosystems that thrive on uncertainty and gatekeeping. That, precisely, has been the modus operandi of Kashmiri netas since decades.

But for mounting any resistance, an alibi was needed; so, the debate was framed around apple orchards, with claims that nearly seven lakh trees would be affected. What was left unexplored was whether modern alignment, tunnelling, and compensatory practices – routinely used in alpine regions across the world – could have preserved orchards while delivering long-term economic gains. Nor was there serious discussion about how rail connectivity could have reduced apple losses caused by road closures, delays, and spoilage – losses that have cost growers dearly year after year. Kashmir’s political class is very good at shedding loop-sided crocodile tears – often shed on the foundations of victimhood.

So, the issue was reduced to a binary choice: orchards versus railways. It was a false choice – but an effective one. And most convenient too.

By the time the Central Government placed the project on hold, the narrative had already been fixed. The railway had been successfully branded as an ecological threat, even as Kashmir’s real environmental crises continued unchecked. Rivers kept shrinking. Wetlands kept disappearing. Garbage kept piling up.

The train never arrived. The pollution did. And there is a deeper, more uncomfortable truth beneath it all.

For decades, Kashmiri netas have thrived on provoking common Kashmiris against anything that visibly symbolises India – roads, railways, institutions, infrastructure – while making a conspicuous exception for tourists. Tourists were never a problem. Tourists were welcome, encouraged, celebrated, because they fed livelihoods. They paid hotel bills, hired taxis, filled shops, and sustained the very economic networks that netas and middlemen presided over.

Integration was opposed. Connectivity was feared. But consumption was embraced. Kashmir does want tourists but only on its own terms.

The Pahalgam railway crossed that invisible line. It was Indian infrastructure that could not be selectively filtered, politically throttled, or economically monopolised. That is why it was resisted – not because it threatened Kashmir’s ecology, but because it threatened a carefully cultivated economy of control.

There was precedent for this fear, and it came from Kashmir’s own recent history. When the Banihal–Baramulla railway line was laid, it was not welcomed as a lifeline for ordinary Kashmiris. Instead, a powerful narrative was manufactured and circulated: that the railway was not meant for the people of Kashmir at all, but for ferrying military men and machines to border areas. Connectivity was framed as occupation. Infrastructure was portrayed as strategic coercion rather than public utility. That narrative ignored the daily reality of students, patients, workers, traders, and families who began using the train as a safer, cheaper, and more reliable mode of travel across the Valley. Yet the suspicion stuck – deliberately cultivated to ensure that anything visibly Indian, especially something as permanent as rail, remained politically suspect. The same template was revived during the Pahalgam railway debate: first militarise the imagination, then cloak resistance in the language of environment.

That is the bitter truth Kashmiri netas left behind when the project was shelved: they did not save the environment – they saved a system that profits from keeping Kashmir connected only on its own terms.

Irrespective of what, this railway was possible without disturbing ecology. Countries similar to Kashmir in climate/geography categories have built railways while protecting forests, rivers, and sensitive ecosystems. This is perfect as a stand-alone insert or as part of your column.

World Examples: Railways Built with Ecology in Mind — Not Against It