Srinagar, May 6: The morning sun sparkles across Dal Lake’s rippling waters, but the usual buzz of tourist activity has vanished. Riyaz Ahmad sits alone outside his houseboat, his weathered hands occasionally shielding his eyes as he gazes across the empty waterfront that should be teeming with visitors.
“Last month, you couldn’t hear yourself think with all the laughter and chatter,” Ahmad says, gesturing toward his meticulously maintained houseboat with its ornate woodwork and colourful flower boxes. Now there’s only silence. It’s deafening.”
The April 22 terror attack that claimed 26 tourist lives in Pahalgam’s picturesque Baisaran meadow has effectively paralysed Kashmir’s tourism industry during what should be its most profitable season. The impact has been immediate and devastating.
“My houseboat was completely booked through the end of June—not a single vacant room,” Ahmad recalls, his voice dropping. “When the Pahalgam tragedy happened, everything changed overnight. The family occupying all my rooms left the very next day. Since then? Nothing. Not one tourist.”
Ahmad’s experience mirrors the catastrophic decline reported by industry leaders.
According to Manzoor Ahmad Pakhtoon, President of the Kashmir Houseboat Owners Association, occupancy rates have plummeted across the sector.
“We operate approximately 780 houseboats with a combined capacity of 2,800 beds,” Pakhtoon said, adding, “Current occupancy has fallen below 10 percent—a collapse unlike anything we’ve seen in years.”
“We all unequivocally condemned the attack on innocent tourists. But now we’re facing the harsh consequences. Tourist arrivals have virtually dried up, and what’s truly alarming is the wave of cancellations extending through the summer season.”
The ripple effects throughout Kashmir’s economy are becoming increasingly apparent. “This isn’t just about empty houseboats,” Pakhtoon emphasises. “We’re talking about thousands of livelihoods—boatmen, guides, handicraft sellers, restaurants, transportation services. The entire ecosystem that depends on tourism is grinding to a halt.”
The J&K administration’s decision to temporarily close 48 of the region’s 87 tourist destinations following the terror attack has further dampened the confidence of intending tourists. While intended as a security measure, many industry stakeholders view it as a death knell for the season.
Ghulam Mohammad Dar, who operates a fleet of tourist taxis, describes the situation bluntly: “In twenty-seven years in this business, I’ve weathered many storms, but this feels different. My drivers are sitting idle, and I’ve had to tell some that they shouldn’t expect work for weeks. How will they feed their families?”
For many businesses, the timing couldn’t be worse. April and May represent critical months when operators earn enough to sustain themselves through leaner periods. With this income stream suddenly cut off, many face existential questions about their future.
As the sun begins to set over Dal Lake, Riyaz Ahmad reluctantly heads inside his empty houseboat. The lanterns that would normally cast a warm glow for evening guests remain unlit.
“Tourism and hospitality are in our blood,” he says, pausing at the entrance. “We Kashmiris have always prided ourselves on treating guests like family. That’s why this attack wasn’t just on tourists—it was on our identity, our way of life. We will recover, but the scars will remain.”
