The latest shutdown programme announced by the Kashmir Power Distribution Corporation Limited has once again exposed the fragility of life in the Valley during winter. Officials describe it as “essential maintenance,” but for ordinary people it is nothing short of a cruel blow delivered at the harshest time of the year. Kashmir is already reeling under minus temperatures, households are struggling to keep warm, and yet the administration chooses this moment to cut supply. The contradiction between official claims of preparedness and the livid reality of cold homes, dark kitchens and silent medical machines could not be starker.
For years, maintenance was scheduled before the onset of severe cold, usually in October, when such work could be carried out without inflicting unbearable suffering. That practice had logic and foresight. Now, inexplicably, shutdown programmes are imposed in late November and December, when the Valley is at its most vulnerable. The administration continues to boast in official handouts that it is “ready for winter,” but readiness cannot be measured in words. It must be measured in uninterrupted supply, in foresight, and in compassion. If this is the preparation officials speak of, then it is preparation for misery, not relief.
Electricity in Kashmir is not a luxury. It is survival. Patients’ dependent on oxygen concentrators or other medical devices face life-threatening risks when power is cut. Children who spend long hours in freezing classrooms return home hoping for warmth, only to find cold rooms and no electricity. Women, who spend much of their time in kitchens, endure unbearable conditions when heating appliances fail. The elderly, already vulnerable to cold-related illnesses, suffer silently in dark, freezing homes. These are not minor inconveniences; they are daily struggles that expose the human cost of so-called bureaucratic scheduling.
The administration calls it “essential maintenance”. But what kind of maintenance is this? If it is routine strengthening of transmission lines, why was it not completed earlier? If it is emergency fault rectification, why is the public not told transparently what the fault is and why it cannot wait? Without answers, people are left to believe that this is not necessity but negligence. Around the world, utilities design shutdown programmes around moderate weather windows to minimize public suffering. In Kashmir, however, the programme is imposed during the harshest months, amplifying the perception that the people’s pain is invisible to those in power.
The human cost of these shutdowns cannot be brushed aside. Such voices must be heard, yet they are drowned out by the bland language of official notices. The administration’s repeated assurances of preparedness ring hollow when weighed against the reality of cold homes, dark kitchens, and silent medical machines.
What Kashmir needs is not more press releases but a proper mechanism where maintenance does not translate into suffering. Shutdowns must be scheduled before winter, not during it. Citizens must be informed honestly about the reasons for outages. Accountability must replace rhetoric. Until then, every shutdown will be seen not as a technical necessity but as a betrayal.
Electricity in winter here is not convenience; it is survival. To cut it in the name of maintenance, without foresight or compassion, is to strip people of their dignity and expose them to danger. If this is the preparation officials boast of, then it is woefully inadequate. Kashmir deserves better. Kashmir deserves a system where maintenance does not mean misery, where preparedness is more than a slogan, and where the lives of ordinary people are valued above bureaucratic routine.
