Prescription for Disaster: Misuse of Antibiotics is Turning Treatable Infections into Killers

Credit By: DR ZAHID MAQBOOL

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• 22 Apr 2026

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In a valley where every winter brings a familiar wave of coughs, fevers, and infections, we have learned to lean on antibiotics as if they are harmless, ever‑reliable cures. They are not. The same medicines that once turned deadly infections into routine ailments are now losing their power  and our habits, systems, and silences are to blame.

For years, antibiotics have been treated in Kashmir less like life‑saving drugs and more like over‑the‑counter relief, no different from a painkiller or a vitamin pill. Many chemists hand them out without prescriptions. Patients demand them after just a day or two of fever. Some doctors, under pressure from impatient patients or crowded clinics, prescribe them “just in case.” Courses are started and then abandoned midway as soon as the patient feels a little better. All of this creates the perfect breeding ground for antibiotic resistance; a phenomenon where bacteria evolve to withstand the very drugs designed to kill them.

The danger is not hypothetical. Across India and South Asia, studies have shown rising levels of resistance to common antibiotics. Kashmir is no exception; if anything, our fragile healthcare infrastructure and unique geographical realities make us more vulnerable. When infections stop responding to standard drugs, treatment becomes longer, more expensive, and more uncertain. Complications rise. Hospital stays stretch on. Families already struggling with economic hardship are pushed further into distress. Worst of all, once‑treatable infections can again become fatal.

The problem in the valley is layered. At the local level, there is a deep‑rooted belief that a “strong” medicine works faster and in popular imagination, that almost always means an antibiotic. Patients often walk into clinics and pharmacies already convinced that only an antibiotic will help them. Viral fevers, seasonal flu, sore throats many of these illnesses do not need antibiotics at all. Yet they are routinely prescribed or demanded. Each unnecessary tablet swallowed is not just wasted medicine; it is a small push helping bacteria become stronger.

On the medical side, doctors in Kashmir face a difficult environment: overloaded public hospitals, limited diagnostic facilities, and patients who may not be able to return for reviews. In such conditions, there is a temptation to prescribe broad‑spectrum antibiotics pre‑emptively, in the hope of covering “all possible” infections. Without proper lab support, culture tests, or antibiotic sensitivity reports, treatment often relies on guesswork. Over time, this guesswork fuels resistance.

Pharmacies and chemist shops are another critical front. While regulations exist on paper to restrict the sale of antibiotics without prescription, enforcement remains weak. Anyone in a hurry can walk into a shop, name a drug they have heard of, or show an old strip from a previous illness and walk out with a fresh supply. The short‑term relief this offers is deceptive. The long‑term price will be paid by all of us.

Nowadays,  it has become a routine in the valley to stock up on antibiotics “just in case,” and doses are shared between relatives. Leftover tablets from one person’s chest infection are casually given to another person’s urinary infection, with no understanding that different bacteria, and different body systems, often require different medicines, doses, and durations.

We must also recognize the role of private healthcare in driving antibiotic use. In some settings, repeat visits are discouraged and quick fixes rewarded. A patient who “feels better quickly” after being given a powerful cocktail of antibiotics spreads the word. The doctor or clinic that prescribes more conservatively is seen as less effective. This mindset must be challenged head‑on.

Antibiotic resistance is not simply a medical issue; it is a social and ethical one. It raises uncomfortable questions: Are we willing to sacrifice tomorrow’s cures for today’s convenience? Are we ready to let our children inherit a world where a minor wound, a routine surgery, or a common infection can once again become life‑threatening because our drugs no longer work?

The response must be urgent and multi‑layered. First, awareness. Public health campaigns in Kashmir rarely focus on antibiotic misuse with the seriousness it demands. We need clear, consistent messaging in hospitals, schools, mosques, and media: antibiotics are not painkillers; they are a last line of defence, to be used carefully and correctly. Patients must be reminded again and again to never demand antibiotics, and never stop a prescribed course midway.

Second, regulation. Authorities must strictly enforce existing laws that prevent over‑the‑counter sale of antibiotics without a valid prescription. Random checks, penalties for violators, and strict monitoring of high‑risk drugs are essential. Pharmacy associations in the valley should take the lead, framing this not as a business constraint but as a moral duty.

Third, medical practice itself must evolve. Doctors need institutional support to prescribe responsibly: better diagnostic facilities, updated local guidelines on antibiotic use, and ongoing training on resistance patterns in the region. Hospitals, both government and private, must adopt antibiotic stewardship programs that monitor how these medicines are being used and where they are being overused.

Finally, the public must accept its share of responsibility. Saying no to unnecessary antibiotics is as important as saying yes to a vaccine or a hygiene practice. It is an act of protection  not just for oneself, but for the entire community.

The choice before us is stark: continue down the path of careless use and face a future of untreatable infections, or change course today and preserve the power of antibiotics for generations to come.

This is not a distant  danger. It is already here, in our wards, our clinics, and our homes. The time to resist antibiotic resistance in Kashmir is not tomorrow. It is now.

(The Author is registered medical practitioner and health columnist)