From Horse-Drawn Carriages to Smartphones: Kashmir's Technological Evolution

Leh, India Aug 1, 2026 ALN: I became conscious of my surroundings in the early 1970s and was fortunate to witness the gradual technological transformation of Kashmir. Looking back today, it is astonishing to see how rapidly life has evolved—from an era of horse-drawn transport, and kerosene lamps to one dominated by smartphones, artificial intelligence and instant global connectivity. A witness to a tech transformation from Industry 2.0 to Industry 5.0.

One of my earliest memories is of my father’s old canvas-mounted Willys Jeep. Winters in Kashmir were unforgiving, and starting the diesel engine was no easy task. On freezing mornings, a small fire had to be lit beneath the fuel tank to warm the diesel before the engine would respond. Even then, the battery would often fail, requiring the engine to be manually cranked with a metal handle inserted through the front grille. It was a left-hand-drive vehicle—a rarity that fascinated us as children. Looking back, those mechanical rituals seem almost unimaginable in today’s age of push-button ignition and electric vehicles.

Going to school was an adventure in itself. After walking nearly 400 metres from our home in Natipora to the main road, we would wait for a horse-drawn tonga. It accommodated six or seven passengers, and despite its leisurely pace, it was the most dependable mode of public transport. As children, we often felt sorry for the exhausted horse, whose back bore visible whip marks inflicted by the driver to keep it moving. The roads of Srinagar were dotted with horse dung, yet they were remarkably peaceful—free from traffic jams, noise and pollution.

The tonga would drop us near Hazuribagh, from where we walked another kilometre to Tyndale Biscoe School. Those walks remain among my fondest childhood memories. There were few motor vehicles on the roads, and owning a bicycle was considered a matter of prestige. I vividly remember when my father bought a BSA SLR bicycle with its elegant curved handlebars. To us, it was more than a bicycle; it was a prized possession and a symbol of modernity.

Entertainment in those days revolved around the family and the neighbourhood. Around 1974, my father purchased a black-and-white television set manufactured under the brand name Western. Doordarshan was the only television broadcaster available. Every Sunday evening, from six to nine, the neighbourhood would gather in our living room to watch the weekly Hindi film. Families arrived carrying stools, children occupied every available corner, and the room transformed into a community cinema.
Electricity, however, had a habit of interrupting the excitement. Power failures during the movie often left everyone disappointed. Some would anxiously pray for the electricity to return, while others resigned themselves to missing the climax. There were no inverters, batteries or generators to provide backup. We simply waited, with anxiety and hope, eager for the lights to come back before the film ended.

Radio remained the most trusted source of information and entertainment. Families gathered around radio sets to listen to news bulletins, film songs, cricket commentaries and programmes broadcast from Radio Kashmir Srinagar and All India Radio. Portable transistor radios became increasingly popular and allowed people to tune into medium-wave, shortwave and, later, FM broadcasts. Tape recorders also began appearing in some homes. For children, recording our own voices and playing them back was a magical experience that never failed to amuse us.
Communication during those years demanded patience. Installing a telephone was itself a privilege. I remember when our family received a black rotary-dial telephone manufactured by Indian Telephone Industries (ITI), India’s pioneering public-sector telecommunications company, which also had a manufacturing unit in Srinagar. Our first telephone number was just a five-digit number, 32049, easy to remember and soon became known throughout the neighbourhood.

Owning a telephone was considered a community asset rather than a private convenience. Neighbours frequently visited our home to receive or make important calls to relatives living elsewhere in the country. International and long-distance communication was far more complicated. STD and ISD facilities were either unavailable or extremely limited. Instead, one had to book a trunk call through the Telephone Exchange on Exchange Road. Depending on the destination, the wait could stretch from several hours to almost an entire day before the operator finally announced, “Your trunk call is through.”
Letters and telegrams formed the backbone of communication. Sending a telegram required a visit to the telegraph office, where messages were charged by the word. Operators transmitted them electronically using teleprinters or Morse code, after which they were delivered by hand to the recipient. The arrival of a postman carrying a telegram would instantly raise anxiety, for telegrams usually conveyed either joyous news or tragic events.
Letter writing, by contrast, was an art. Inland letters, postcards and envelopes carried handwritten emotions across cities and continents. Every letter was eagerly awaited, carefully preserved and often read repeatedly. Communication was slow, but it possessed a warmth and permanence that digital messaging can rarely replicate.

Household technology was modest. Most families cooked on kerosene stoves, while kerosene lamps illuminated homes during frequent power cuts. Refrigerators, washing machines and other electrical appliances were uncommon. Electricity itself was unreliable, particularly during the harsh winter months, compelling families to adapt with remarkable resilience.
Looking back, one realises that technological limitations did not diminish the quality of life. On the contrary, they strengthened family bonds and fostered a deep sense of community. Neighbours knew one another intimately, children spent more time outdoors than indoors, and conversations were face-to-face rather than screen-to-screen. Technology served as an aid rather than a substitute for human relationships.
Today, Gen Z lives in an interconnected digital world unimaginable to those who grew up in the 1960s and 1970s, for whom today’s technology was a fiction comic reading. Smartphones, high-speed internet, satellite television, artificial intelligence, digital banking and instant video calls have transformed every aspect of daily life. Information that once took days to arrive is now available within seconds. Distances have shrunk, opportunities have expanded, and convenience has become a defining feature of modern existence.

Yet, as technology continues to reshape society at an unprecedented pace, it is worth remembering that progress is meaningful only when it enhances human values rather than replacing them. My generation witnessed the remarkable journey from manually cranking a Willys Jeep and waiting hours for a trunk call to carrying the world’s knowledge in the palm of our hands. It has been an extraordinary transition—not merely in technology, but in the very way we live, communicate and connect.
The story of Kashmir’s technological journey is therefore not simply a chronicle of machines and inventions; it is the story of a society that gracefully embraced change while striving to preserve its traditions, warmth and enduring sense of community. That balance between progress and humanity remains the greatest lesson of all.

Saad Parvez, Director, Greenovation Foundation (a Section 8 Company), National Institute Of Technology Srinagar