Every winter, Kashmir slows down in a way that feels almost scripted. Schools and colleges shut their gates. Many government offices thin out as employees move to Jammu. Streets grow silent, conversations shorter, and the valley slips into a waiting mode. Winter, we tell ourselves, is for rest.

This long-held idea was recently questioned by a lecturer in an article published in Kashmir Observer. His point was simple but sharp. Why do we treat these two winter months as a full stop, especially in education, when they could be used far better? 

His words struck a chord because they named something people here have felt for years but rarely challenged.

The winter break is often defended as a time for rest and recovery, particularly for teachers and academic staff. The cold is harsh, travel becomes difficult, and daily life demands more effort. 

All of that is true. But what we rarely discuss is what this long pause does to Kashmir’s intellectual and social life. When campuses shut and officials leave, entire towns feel empty. 

Over time, this has stopped feeling unusual. It has become tradition. But tradition should not stop us from asking hard questions.

Other regions face winters far more severe than ours, but they do not retreat from public life. In countries like Norway, Sweden, Canada, and Finland, snow does not mean shutdown. Universities continue with adjusted schedules. Teachers use winter for research, training, and planning. Students attend short courses, workshops, and online programs. Communities hold winter festivals, lectures, and cultural gatherings that turn isolation into connection.

Kashmir can learn from this approach. Winter does not have to mean complete closure. Rest does not require withdrawal. These months could become a time for deeper work. 

Teachers could focus on writing, mentoring, and updating courses. Institutions could host winter schools, reading programs, or online classes that suit the season. Even limited, well-planned activity would keep minds engaged and communities connected.

This conversation is essentially about how society as a whole treats winter as a dead zone. We accept inactivity as natural, even inevitable. But that mindset holds us back. Progress does not always need speed. Sometimes it needs steadiness, even in the cold.

The lecturer who raised this issue did not demand an end to winter breaks. He asked for a rethink. That matters. Kashmir does not need to fight winter. It needs to live with it differently.