Making responsible parenting central in the fight against drugs and social crimes
DR ABRAR HASSAN
The Kashmir Valley today stands at a difficult crossroads. For decades, our conversations were dominated by politics and survival. Now, another crisis has crept into our homes: drug addiction and a disturbing rise in social crimes among our youth. The statistics are alarming, but the lived reality is even more painful; parents waiting outside de-addiction centres, mothers hiding their jewellery to stop it from being sold, neighbourhoods whispering about yet another boy caught stealing, peddling, or worse.
In the rush to blame governments, schools, or “bad company”, we often sidestep an uncomfortable question: what happened inside our homes? Somewhere along the way, our patterns of parenting changed, our presence in our children’s lives thinned, and our vigilance dulled. If the streets have become more dangerous, it is partly because the home has ceased to be the strong, nurturing, and watchful space it once was.
The shift inside Kashmiri homes
Kashmiri society traditionally prided itself on close-knit families, moral codes, and community watchfulness. Elders, neighbours, and relatives all played a role in shaping a child’s behaviour. Today, that structure is fraying. Economic pressures push parents to work longer hours. The joint family is giving way to nuclear units. Smartphones and social media have stepped in where elders and community conversations once stood.
In many homes, children grow up with material comfort but emotional distance. Parents are physically present yet mentally absent; scrolling, working, or constantly “busy”. Difficult conversations about stress, anxiety, attraction, peer pressure, and drugs are either hushed up or postponed indefinitely. We still expect obedience, but we rarely invest time in building trust.
This gap is precisely where drugs and deviant behaviour find space to enter. A teenager who cannot talk to his father about failure or to her mother about fear will often find someone else to listen, the worst kind of listener.
Love without limits, discipline without cruelty
Responsible parenting does not mean stricter control alone; it means wiser engagement. In many Kashmiri homes, we swing between two extremes. On one side is harsh, authoritarian parenting that demands unquestioned obedience, using shame, comparison, and fear as tools. On the other side is permissive neglect, where children are given expensive phones, late nights, and unchecked freedom in the name of “trust” or “modernity”, without any boundaries or guidance.
Both extremes are dangerous. The overly controlled child may rebel in secret, seeking escape in drugs or risky behaviour. The overly indulged child may grow up without a sense of consequence, seeing no harm in experimentation or petty crime.
A more balanced approach is urgently needed. Children must feel deeply loved but also clearly guided. They should know that certain lines, drugs, violence, disrespect, and dishonesty are non-negotiable. At the same time, they should also know that if they make a mistake, the first place they can turn to for help is home, not the street.
Seeing the early signs — and not looking away
Parents in the Valley often recognise the signs of trouble but hope that “it will pass”. Changes in sleep, sudden aggression, withdrawal from family, unexplained expenses, new suspicious friendships, or frequent calls at odd hours are often dismissed as “normal teenage behaviour”. By the time reality is acknowledged, addiction or criminal involvement has taken deeper root.
Responsible parenting demands courage; the courage to see what we do not want to see. It requires parents to ask uncomfortable questions, to verify where their children spend time, to know their friends, and to keep an eye on their digital lives. Privacy is important, but so is protection. A minor under your roof is your responsibility, morally and legally.
Equally important is early intervention. If a parent suspects substance use, the response should not be denial, beating, or public shaming. It should be a calm but firm confrontation, followed by seeking professional help. There is no honour in hiding addiction until it destroys a family.
Schools, mosques, mohallas — but first, the home
It is easy to call for more policing, stricter laws, and harsher punishments. These have their place, but they treat symptoms, not causes. The real work begins much earlier in the lap of the mother, in the attention of the father, in the value system of the home.
Schools must integrate real, honest discussions about drugs, mental health, and consent. Religious institutions must move beyond abstract sermons and address the lived realities of our youth. Mohalla committees must keep an eye on suspicious activities and protect, not stigmatise, vulnerable families.
Yet, even these efforts will fail if the home remains absent. A teacher sees a child for a few hours; a parent shapes a life. A police officer can arrest; a parent can prevent. A cleric can advise; a parent can embody. No institution can replace a mother who listens daily or a father who spends time knowing his child.
Reclaiming our moral duty
Kashmir’s pain has many layers. Drug addiction and social crimes are not isolated problems but symptoms of a deeper breakdown in how we live, communicate, and care. We can debate politics endlessly, but within our own four walls, we do not need any policy to start being more responsible.
Every parent in the Valley must ask: Do I know what my child is going through? Do I know their fears, their doubts, their mistakes? Am I available not only with money, but with time, attention, and guidance? If the answer is no, then the first reform we need is not in the Secretariat, the school, or the station house; it is in our own homes.
If our homes become stronger, our youth will be less vulnerable, and our streets safer. Responsible parenting is not a slogan or a social media campaign. In today’s Kashmir, it is nothing less than an act of social defence and perhaps, the most powerful one we still have in our hands.
( The author has a PhD in child education and is a columnist)