The Battle to Save a Dying Language
Once widely spoken across Kashmir’s highlands, Shina – spoken by nearly 50,000 people in Gurez and Drass – is now at risk of fading into silence. Can technology and digital activism save it from extinction?
Ishtayaq Rasool
On a cold Wednesday morning in Arampora Bandipora, 77-year-old Masood Samoon sits by a traditional Bukhari – a wood-fired heater – on which a kettle is simmering, and his aged fingers carefully turn the pages of a Shina ghazal. His eyes are fixed on the words. He is surrounded by books of different languages, but the ones dearest to him are in his mother tongue, Shina.
Samoon grew up in a small village in Kashmir’s northern Gurez Valley, where winters drop to minus 25 degrees Celsius, and the Bukhari serves as every home’s lifeline against the cold.
On a cold Wednesday morning in Arampora Bandipora, 77-year-old Masood Samoon sits by a traditional Bukhari – a wood-fired heater – on which a kettle is simmering, and his aged fingers carefully turn the pages of a Shina ghazal. His eyes are fixed on the words. He is surrounded by books of different languages, but the ones dearest to him are in his mother tongue, Shina.
Samoon grew up in a small village in Kashmir’s northern Gurez Valley, where winters drop to minus 25 degrees Celsius, and the Bukhari serves as every home’s lifeline against the cold.
Located 125 km from Srinagar, near the Line of Control between India and Pakistan, Gurez is home to the Dard Shin tribe who share a unique culture and language. It was once known as the gateway to Asia's ancient Silk Road.
Shina is one of the Dardic languages spoken by the Dards, an Indo-Aryan ethnic group, with historical and cultural roots in Dardistan, the homeland to Dard people, stretching from Kashmir Valley to Gilgit and Afghanistan. Nearly 50,000 people speak Shina in Drass, Gurez and some parts of Kashmir. But the language is now at risk of fading into silence.
The Partition of 1947 separated this tribe across borders, leaving their language to survive through oral traditions, folktales and folk songs, without a unified script. Decades of seasonal migration to Kashmir valley, tourism-driven changes, political-cultural upheavals and a lack of institutional recognition have further isolated and marginalised Shina language.
The guardian of Shina
“Shina has been widely spoken in Kargil, Tulail, and Gurez for centuries, yet there was no unified script,” Samoon explains. “Writers from Kargil attempted to write it in Naskh, but I found that impractical.”
To preserve the linguistic connection between Shina and Kashmiri, Samoon harmonised the script with Kashmiri and Urdu, using Nastaʿlīq letters to reflect their historic coexistence.
Over the years, Samoon has published collections on Shina phonetics, script and grammar, translating works like Gulistan by Sheikh Saadi Shirazi and Maulana Abu Al-Hassan Nadavi’s Sirat-e-Rasool. He has also translated works of Oscar Wilde and Saadat Hasan Manto and several others into the Shina language.
Samoon has spent years advocating for the Shina’s recognition in education and academia. “However, at 77, working alone is a challenge for me,” Samoon says.
With growing internet access in Gurez, digital platforms have become a tool for linguistic preservation. Samoon has been digitising his work, making Shina literature accessible to a wider audience.
In 2020, he wrote multiple emails to Microsoft, requesting their support in developing a Shina-compatible keyboard.
A French technologist named Julian, specialising in minority languages, was assigned for the project. After a year of collaboration, they developed Microsoft Key Beta – the first-ever Shina keyboard for Android and Windows.
However, digital tools alone cannot revive a language.
“Even with a keyboard, getting people to read and write Shina on a daily basis is an uphill battle,” Samoon says.
During the COVID-19 pandemic, Samoon launched online Shina classes via WhatsApp and Zoom in 2020. The initiative reached students like 22-year-old Sameer Ahmed Khan. He grew up in Sonmarg, about 100 km away from his ancestral home in Gurez, Khan, and had lost touch with his native language and also faced humiliation for being a tribe member of Dard-shin.
Now, through virtual classes, he is regaining his lost language and honour.
“Whenever someone from Gurez visited, I would ask my father, ‘Why have these Dards come to us?’” says Khan. “At school, teachers called us ‘Darda’ and mocked us. I used to curse my fate for being born into a Dard family.” Khan is pursuing a masters in Kashmiri literature at Kashmir University.
However, reaching people digitally remains a challenge.
“Only a few young people are interested in learning Shina,” says Sheikh Bilal, a Shina language trainer. “Many of those who worked on preserving Shina aren’t online, so their efforts rarely reach younger generations.”
Historically, Shina’s dialects were so diverse that speakers often struggled to understand one another. But social media has bridged that gap. “We can connect with dialects spoken even in the Gilgit region,” says Muhammad Shafi, a Shina poet and teacher from Drass, Ladakh.
Ayesha Kidwai, a linguist and professor at Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi, emphasised the urgency of preserving endangered languages like Shina. "We need active community participation and institutional support," she said. "Digital dictionaries, AI-powered translations and social media help, but without structured education, languages like Shina will continue to struggle."
Dr Suheel Rasool Mir, sociologist and author of Cultural Encyclopedia of the Dard Tribe, says the first setback was the Partition of 1947, which has eroded the Shina in Gurez and Drass and pushed the language to the brink of extinction. “We have failed to use technology to boost the Shina language,” says Mir.
Displacement and seasonal migration have deeply impacted the Dard-shin tribe and their language, as many leave Gurez due to political instability, limited economic opportunities and a lack of necessities like healthcare, education and employment, says Suraya Nasir, a 25-year-old university student from Gurez. She recalls the terrifying events of 2019, when she witnessed shelling in Gurez for the first time – an experience that continues to make her fear an uncertain future. "The fear of shelling forces people to leave," she says.
However, political decisions have further alienated the Dard-Shin community. “The abrogation of Article 370 divided our people between two Union Territories, sliced off the Dard tribe of Drass from Gurez,” says Sagar, a poet from Drass, Ladakh.
Even in the National Education Policy (NEP) 2020, which claims to place an emphasis on regional languages, Shina remains absent from India’s officially recognised list, says Sagar.
Gurez has recently emerged as a new tourist destination in Kashmir since the 2021 ceasefire truce between India and Pakistan.“The government promotes tourism in Gurez but ignores the cultural aspects of the Dard-Shin tribe, especially their language,” says Mir.
Despite global technological advancements, institutions remain slow to embrace Shina in education and digital preservation.
Kidwai also highlights the broader politics behind the growing push for Sanskritisation and Hinduisation in India. “The dominance of Hindi and Sanskrit in education and official spaces is pushing indigenous languages like Kashmiri and Shina to the margins,” she says.
Sanjeev Rana, Additional Secretary of the J&K Academy of Art and Culture, while speaking to The Wire on the phone, admitted that the Academy is not engaged in any digital initiatives but is working on an annual Shina language journal.
Dard women are the backbone of the society, embedding Shina into daily life, whether by singing folk songs while harvesting crops, reciting prayers or telling bedtime stories. “But their role has largely been confined to the home,” says Mir, a Kashmir-based sociologist.
Despite being the primary speakers of Shina, women are absent from its digital revival due to staggeringly low literacy rates. According to the 2011 Census, only 40.49% of women in Gurez are literate, making it difficult for them to engage with online language initiatives. This lack of access has further marginalised their role in preserving and passing down the language.
“Many women in our community stop studying after basic education. They don’t have safe digital spaces where they feel encouraged to participate,” says Suraya. “If we don’t mobilise young women, our language will disappear.”
While young men are driving the digital resurgence of Shina music and literature, women have yet to find their space.
“Not a single woman has enrolled in our online Shina classes,” says Sheikh Bilal. “It’s unfortunate. Women are the primary speakers of Shina in households, yet they are missing from these revival efforts.” The challenge is not just about access but about creating safe and inclusive digital spaces where women feel empowered to engage.
“We have to bring women into digital spaces,” says Suraya. “We have to provide safe platforms to women, mobilise socially – only then will they join this fight.”
While digital tools are a step forward, the challenge remains in ensuring accessibility, especially for women and older generations who are less engaged with online platforms.
For decades, the Habba Khatoon Dramatic Club has been a popular folk music group in Gurez Valley for performing Shina songs at festivals and preserving the Dard’s musical heritage. While their performances have kept the tradition alive, a new generation of native artists is reshaping Shina music – fusing it with a contemporary style and taking advantage of digital platforms like YouTube, Instagram and Facebook to reach a wider audience.
“In November 2024, we released a trailer for our debut song Baharek Hoon, written by Masood Samoon,” says Aasim Yasin, a 25-year-old singer from Buglinder village in Tulail Valley. “The response was quite overwhelming. It [the internet] allows us to reconnect with our roots and reach beyond borders.” He is currently a performing arts student at Kashmir University.
Shina music from Gilgit has also gained much popularity, with Salmaan Paras and Kashif Din influencing young artists in Gurez and Drass.
Similarly, Javeed Aliyo from Drass and Younis Majeed from Gurez are attracting young audiences and expanding Shina music's reach beyond borders.
Social media plays a key role in this revival. “Gurezi make scenic representations of their landscape, but they use Gilgit songs in the background. This gives us a sense of belonging to the language," said Mir.
While music is an essential medium, Kidwai explains that it should not overshadow the linguistic aspect. “We must focus on the breadth of Shina’s written and scholarly work.”
If the government and community don’t step up, Shina may soon become just another lost language of the Himalayas.
At 77, Samoon refuses to give up. “As long as I am alive, I will keep fighting for my language.”
Ishtayaq Rasool is an independent journalist from the Dard-Shin tribe of Kashmir. His work has been published in BBC, Hindustan Times, The Wire, PARI Network and Article 14. He previously worked as a visual producer at Hindustan Times in New Delhi.
Aakash Gulzar is a documentary photographer based in Kashmir and a VII Academy fellow. His work has been published in VII Foundation, Float Magazine, Village Square and The Citizen.
Photos by Aakash Gulzar
Text by Ishtayaq Rasool
Edited by Jahnavi Sen
Produced by Elisha Vermani
Developed in collaboration with Ekaansh Arora