Heat in the Hills: How Kashmir’s Climate Is Slowly Turning
For most people, Kashmir conjures up images of cool summers, pine-covered slopes, and snow-laced winters. But lately, something has changed. May 2025 brought a scorching surprise. Srinagar touched 34.4°C, the highest temperature for the month in years. Even the cooler corners like Pahalgam weren’t spared. It hit 27.8°C—hot enough to send tourists scrambling for shade. The heat didn’t just show up once. It stayed. Qazigund recorded 33.4°C, Kokernag 33.2°C, and all across the Valley, people stayed indoors, especially in the towns where concrete traps heat like a closed oven. Schools are starting early to avoid the hottest hours. Hospitals are reporting a sharp rise in cases of dehydration and heatstroke, mostly among children and the elderly. For a region used to mild weather, this kind of heat isn’t just uncomfortable. It’s dangerous. But here’s the bigger concern. This isn’t a one-off event. Heatwaves have crept in over the past few years, growing stronger each time. Back in August 2020, Srinagar reached 35.7°C, the highest for that month in nearly four decades. In July 2021, it was 35°C again. In June 2023, same story. That September, 34.2°C was recorded—nearly the hottest September day in over a century. By May 2024, records were falling everywhere. Qazigund broke its all-time high with 34°C. Pahalgam touched 28.6°C, the second-highest in two decades. In July 2024, Srinagar sweltered at 36.2°C. For a city nearly 1,600 metres above sea level, that number felt unreal. What’s going on? Climate scientists say it’s part of a much bigger pattern. The Sixth Assessment Report by the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) makes it clear that mountainous regions like Kashmir are heating up nearly twice as fast as the global average. That’s due to global warming, driven by greenhouse gas emissions. But local factors are making things worse. Over the past two decades, Kashmir has seen a wave of construction. Roads, railways, power lines, housing colonies—all eating into forests and wetlands. Less green cover means more heat absorbed by land. On the hills, glacier melting is speeding up. Satellite images from ISRO and studies by the Snow and Avalanche Study Establishment show glaciers feeding rivers like the Jhelum and Lidder have shrunk by more than 15%. With less snow cover, sunlight isn’t reflected. It’s absorbed, which makes the land heat up even more. And the signs are already visible everywhere. From the Apple orchards of Sopore and Shopian, to Anantnag’s paddy fields. Field experts from SKUAST-Kashmir have already reported lower crop yields and signs of heat stress in plants. The early snowmelt also messes with water supplies, causing rivers to swell too soon and run too dry later in summer, affecting irrigation and hydroelectric projects. Cities and towns are turning into heat islands. Places like Baramulla, Anantnag, and Pulwama—once seen as cooler belts—are now recording extreme temperatures. The Jammu and Kashmir State Disaster Management Authority says hospital calls related to heat stress have jumped by over 200% between 2020 and 2025. There’s another invisible culprit: black carbon. These are fine particles released from diesel engines, biomass burning, and fossil fuels. They settle on snow, darken it, and make it melt faster. Research from the Centre for Science and Environment (CSE) shows that black carbon is speeding up warming in the region and setting off a dangerous loop—more melting, more heat, more melting. Tourism is feeling the pinch too. Visitors once came to escape the summer heat. But now, even high-altitude places like Gulmarg and Pahalgam are heating up. Local guides talk of guests cutting their trips short, disappointed by the unusual warmth. The public health impact is another growing worry. A report from the Directorate of Health Services shows a rise in heat-related heart problems and sunstroke, especially during May and July. Those working outdoors—labourers, farmers, vendors—are the worst hit. So are older people and children. It’s clear now: Kashmir’s climate is changing fast. And it’s hitting where it hurts: food, water, health, and livelihoods. This isn’t just about hotter summers. It’s about a fragile ecosystem trying to keep up with a pace it didn’t ask for. And unless something changes, unless policy makers focus on sustainable planning and local communities adapt to what’s coming, Kashmir could lose not just its climate charm but the very balance that has kept its people and nature in sync for centuries. Because when snow turns to sweat in the Valley, it’s not just the seasons that are shifting. It’s the story of survival.