AS A PHOTOJOURNALIST, I have witnessed firsthand how climate change is shaping life in Kashmir, from snowfalls and receding glaciers to scorching heat waves and erratic rainfall. I have seen rivers drying, houseboats sitting in the dried portion. [This June] when I reached the outskirts of the capital city, Srinagar, kids were playing, bathing, cooling themselves during an intense heat wave.

There is so much joy in the photo, yet climate change brings so much gloom. Growing up, we had a very balanced climate. Summers were mild, winters brought snowfall, and each season had its own rhythm. But now it feels the seasons are shifting. Farmers struggle because crops don’t respond well to new weather patterns. Saffron, the most expensive spice in the world, which Kashmir is famous for, needs a certain kind of autumn, but now it is disappearing. Sowing and harvesting cycles are no longer reliable. People struggle with water shortages.

Despite everything — conflict, climate, and economic struggle — people move forward. Farmers try new methods. It gives me hope, too, that the world is listening even just a little. I am a practicing Muslim and in Islam, nature is considered a trust, something sacred that we are responsible for. My faith teaches me to witness the truth and speak for justice. Photography is one way I try to do it. I hope my photographs make you see not just the beauty of Kashmir or the suffering of its people, but the complex reality they live in: A region shaped by conflict, deeply human, and profoundly vulnerable to climate change.

If even one image helps a policymaker consider a decision or a reader connect to a story from a faraway place, then the photograph has done the work.