Young content creators in Indian-administered Kashmir are using social media to preserve and promote the region’s language, crafts and everyday histories, building digital archives that aim to broaden how people see Kashmir beyond decades of conflict.
Muneer Ahmad Dar, who launched the Facebook and Instagram page "Muneer Speaks" after a 2020 moment when he could not read a Kashmiri poem on a mosque calendar, has become one of the most visible figures in the movement. Five years after starting, his posts have gathered more than 500 million impressions across Facebook, Instagram and YouTube as he documents Kashmiri proverbs, folklore, architecture and recipes and highlights the language’s presence in daily life.
Other projects take a range of archival approaches. The Instagram page Museum of Kashmir, run by 33-year-old journalist Muhammad Faysal with a team of curators and oral historians, posts videos and images of artefacts, mosque ceilings and poetry recitals accompanied by contextual captions. Filmmaker Sheikh Adnan, 31, runs "Shawlwala", a page devoted to Pashmina shawls and the elderly artisans who spin, dye and weave them. For many followers, the material has reframed shawls as living cultural objects rather than merely luxury goods or tourist souvenirs.
One widely viewed clip on social platforms shows a woman spinning yarn on a traditional hand spindle to the sound of a Kashmiri folk song. In another popular post, Dar draws attention to historic construction techniques, such as accounts that eggs were used in mortar, to illuminate everyday aspects of Kashmiri architecture. Artists using satire and translation also form part of the ecosystem: 22-year-old Seerat Hafiz, known online as Yikvot or Nun Chai with Jiya, mixes humour and cultural commentary to discuss literature and language use among younger Kashmiris.
Creators say their aim is to reclaim aspects of Kashmir’s history and heritage from a narrative dominated by violence and political conflict. "I want to tell stories about our places and histories, our proverbs, folklore and poetry," Dar said. "It's about capturing the way we have lived, laughed, cooked and remembered." Sheikh Adnan said the shawls are "maps of touch, skill and generations. Every thread carries a story."
The work also faces practical and methodological challenges. Researchers and oral historians warn that hurried or poorly verified accounts of oral history can blur details and distort meaning over time. Khalid Bashir Ahmad, an author and researcher, described the rise in Kashmiri storytelling as a "vital counter-narrative" while cautioning that creators need to take care to preserve nuance and accuracy.
Creators interviewed by the BBC said they consult published sources and rely on researchers to cross-check oral accounts where possible. They also note platform limitations. Dar said social platforms still do not list Kashmiri as a regional language, forcing him to select an "other language" option for posts and limiting the content’s visibility. Literary group Adbi Markaz Kamraz has campaigned since 2023 to add Kashmiri to Google Translate and has submitted formal requests and thousands of letters to technology firms. The BBC has reached out to Meta and Google for comment.
The digital projects unfold in a broader context of displacement and migration. Kashmir, divided between India and Pakistan and long claimed by both, has seen the departure of many young people in recent decades, either to escape violence or to pursue education and jobs. Creators say that documenting everyday culture online can help keep memory alive for those who have left and for younger generations in the valley.
Some followers say the pages reshape who and what is considered worthy of preservation. Comments on Museum of Kashmir and similar accounts point out that heritage includes small personal items and family recipes as well as grand monuments. For the creators, the work is not only archival but political in a cultural sense: asserting continuity of language, craft and communal life in the face of ruptures.
The initiatives are varied in tone and method. While some content is carefully researched and archival, other posts use satire, translation and contemporary formats to make material accessible to young audiences who increasingly switch languages and platforms. Seerat Hafiz described her satirical approach as a way of "documenting the thoughts and emotions of young Kashmiris," and said humour often carries the region’s historical grief.
Despite technical hurdles and the risk of loss or distortion inherent in oral history, the creators interviewed said they will continue to expand their work. They view the digital record as a way to keep stories and skills in circulation: "Maybe one day people will forget my name," Dar said, "but if they remember a single Kashmiri story I helped keep alive, then my work will have meaning."
Archivists and cultural activists outside these pages note that online documentation will be most valuable if it is paired with rigorous sourcing and long-term preservation strategies, including partnerships with libraries, universities and cultural organisations. For now, creators in Kashmir say their immediate priority is visibility: to show audiences inside and outside the region that Kashmiri language, crafts and everyday practices continue to be lived and reimagined by a new generation.
The projects represent a shift in how Kashmir’s story is told online, from a focus on conflict to a more layered account that includes art, food, language and labour. As the creators expand their followings and experiment with formats, they provide a growing public record of cultural practices that activists and scholars hope will outlast any single social media platform.