In the rugged Himalayan districts of Doda, Kishtwar, and Ramban — collectively known as the Chenab Valley — a new word has entered the conversation: Chenabi. At first glance, it might appear to be just another geographical label, a creative twist on the name of the Chenab River. But it is not about the river. It is about the people — the farmers in Bhalessa, the shopkeepers in Kishtwar, the teachers in Banihal, the Gujjar herders in alpine pastures — and the lived reality that unites them.
In Indian-administered Kashmir, identity is never straightforward. Layers of ethnicity, religion, language, and history intersect in ways that defy easy classification. In the Chenab Valley, these layers include Bhaderwahi, Sarazi, Poguli, Kashmiri, Gujjar, Bhalessi, and Padari traditions. Yet despite this cultural richness, one common thread runs through our history: political invisibility.
We have been part of Jammu and Kashmir’s administrative and electoral machinery for decades, but rarely at its centre. The 2024 Assembly elections were a fresh reminder. Of the four legislators from the Chenab Valley who entered the assembly, none received ministerial portfolios. This is not an anomaly; it is a pattern. Our region’s strategic location and abundant natural resources — particularly hydroelectric power — have been tapped for the benefit of the broader state, while our own households face blackouts each winter. Our roads remain half-built, our hospitals lack specialists, and our young people migrate in search of opportunities that do not exist here.
It is within this context that Chenabi emerged — a neological term intended to unite the valley’s communities under a single banner. Not an ethnic identity, not a replacement for Bhaderwahi or Gujjar or Sarazi, but an umbrella that can amplify all these voices collectively. To me, the word is less about erasing differences and more about ensuring they are heard beyond our mountains.
The Global Logic of Regional Identities
Around the world, sub-regional identities have often been forged in response to political neglect. The people of Catalonia in Spain, the Basques in France and Spain, or the Gorkhas in India’s Darjeeling hills have each navigated complex relationships with larger administrative powers, using distinct identities to demand cultural recognition and economic justice. In each case, a shared name became a rallying point.
Like these examples, Chenabi is not born from a desire for separation but from the need for representation. Without a cohesive regional voice, our valley risks remaining an afterthought — a quiet, beautiful place between the plains of Jammu and the Kashmir Valley, notable in postcards but absent from policy agendas.
Critics and Concerns
Critics argue that uniting under one name could flatten our cultural mosaic, risking the erasure of smaller traditions. I acknowledge the validity of such concerns. In the wrong hands, regional branding can become exclusionary. But inclusivity is built into the very idea of Chenabi. Anyone from the valley, regardless of ethnicity or faith, can claim it alongside their primary identity — Chenabi Kashmiri, Chenabi Gujjar, Chenabi Hindu, Chenabi Sarazi.
Some have questioned whether the term has a “Kashmir-centric” framing. This stems partly from the linguistic similarity between Chenabi and Chenab, and partly from my own ethnic background as a Kashmiri from Kishtwar. But the essence of the term is geographic and civic, not ethnic. If a Kashmiri from Chenab Valley can be Chenabi Kashmiri, so too can a Bhalessi from Thathri be a Chenabi Bhalessi. The first word unites; the second specifies.
Why Language Matters
Language shapes political reality. Regions without a unifying label often struggle to assert their needs in crowded political landscapes. Without the word Chenabi, we are a collection of districts. With it, we can be a constituency — not just in elections, but in the imagination of policymakers, journalists, and citizens elsewhere in India and abroad.
The Chenab Valley’s story is one of resilience. Our communities have adapted to landslides, economic migration, and the slow pace of infrastructure development. Yet we have also preserved unique dialects, folk traditions, and ways of life. The danger is not that a new term will erase these — the real danger is that without a shared voice, they will fade quietly, unnoticed by those who could help protect them.
A Call for Constructive Dialogue
In a region where identity debates can quickly become polarised, Chenabi offers a chance to unite without erasing difference. But it will only work if it remains inclusive, democratic, and open to interpretation by all who live here. Policymakers should see it not as a threat to the state’s unity, but as a tool for equitable development. Civil society can use it to press for long-delayed infrastructure, healthcare, and education reforms.
Ultimately, Chenabi is an invitation — to recognise a valley that has given much but received little, to see its people not as scattered communities but as a connected whole, and to ensure that in the next chapter of Jammu and Kashmir’s story, we are more than a footnote.
