As the sun sets and a call to prayer echoes through the alleys of the old town of Srinagar, Kashmir’s largest city, a German shepherd named Rambo stands patiently with a ball in his mouth. He is awaiting his caretaker, Faik Khan. A student of management at the local university, Khan, 24, has grown up in Kashmir Valley, a Muslim-majority region that has been militarized through conflict with the Hindu-led Indian government.

“I have seen people being killed, mass detentions, curfews and nocturnal raids,” Khan told OZY. “Lying in bed all night, I used to recall all my childhood memories and that would give me more anxiety and fear that I cannot put into words.” He tried his best not to think about these memories but, he said, such efforts were ineffective. He eventually sought assistance from a psychologist, which brought some relief.

Then a friend suggested he adopt a pet.

Khan was reluctant at first. But it was Rambo’s arrival in his life that eventually brought a sense of normalcy and calm.

“I raised him like a small baby. Now watching him run, and follow me everywhere I go, gives me a different kind of joy,” explained Khan, who is fond of Hollywood movies and named his dog after the famous fictional soldier who suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder. Khan says he now hurries home after class in order to have “quality time” with Rambo.

Noting that he still feels an ongoing sense of anger about the events he has witnessed, Khan says that the mere sight of Rambo helps bring him a sense of ease. This animal, he says, is his “remedy.”

In 2015, Médecins Sans Frontières along with India’s Institute of Mental Health and Neurosciences conducted a study that showed nearly all adults (99.2%) in Kashmir Valley had witnessed a traumatic event at least once in their lives; the average adult had witnessed or experienced more than seven traumatic events, such as violent conflict or the disappearance or death of a loved one. The study indicated that one out of five Kashmiris exhibits symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). This equates to about 800,000 people, in an area smaller than Hawaii.

On Aug. 5, 2019, India’s ruling Bharatiya Janata Party, in an effort to strengthen Hindu control of a Muslim-majority area, revoked the partial autonomy of Jammu and Kashmir that had been in place since India’s constitution was drafted in 1949. Thousands of additional troops deployed to Kashmir, which was already awash in military forces, to impose lockdowns that restricted the movement of ordinary citizens. Thousands of Kashmiris, including elected officials, were arrested. At the same time, there was a near-total communication blackout and what was the longest internet gag ever imposed in a democracy. The Indian government said these measures were necessary to maintain security.

Then came the COVID-19 pandemic.

In the words of Dr. Junaid Nabi, a psychiatrist at the Institute of Mental Health and Neuroscience, Kashmir is so stricken with mental distress that the region is like “a sleeping volcano” that could explode at any time. When the 2019 military lockdown was followed by a global pandemic, the people of Kashmir were forcibly confined to their homes for a second time in as many years, typically with little information about the health or safety of loved ones.

This was when pet adoptions skyrocketed. And while people around the world craved the company and solace of animals during the loneliness of COVID-19, such solace was especially needed in Kashmir.

Life had darkened for 27-year-old Himayu, an engineer by trade. Known among his friends for his love of travel, Himayu’s very existence had shriveled with the 2019 military lockdown. His sense of loneliness and despair only increased when the pandemic hit.

“Things turned upside down for me, like thousands of other fellow Kashmiris,” he told OZY. His home, he said, “turned into a military garrison, and all the communication gadgets were turned useless.”

As weeks and then months slipped away, Himayu became restless and felt his mental state deteriorate. He struggled to sleep, always anticipating that something terrible was about to happen.

One day, while staring out his window at the distant mountains, Himayu saw his neighbor playing with a cat. After speaking with the neighbor, who was also experiencing emotional distress, Himayu went to the local market the next day — at a time when restrictions were relaxed — and adopted a Persian cat named Simba.

With golden fur and large yellow eyes, Simba quickly became Himayu’s treasured family member.

Kashmir is now seeing the end of its devastating lockdowns, and Himayu says he plans to take Simba with him on a road trip next year.

on The Carlos Watson Show!

On a recent afternoon, just outside the commercial hub of Srinagar, a cluster of mostly young people waited with their pets in the courtyard of a veterinary clinic, while excited children from the neighborhood tried their best to peep through the iron gates for a glimpse of the animals.

Dr. Shahid Hussain, a veterinarian, sat for a tea break after treating more than three pets in an hour. Before the lockdowns, he typically saw three to six animals on a given day. Now he sees 15 to 20.

This doctor also witnesses firsthand the bond between animals and the people who escort them to his office for care.

“People nowadays leave no stone unturned for the well-being of their pets,” he said gently. “A young boy from another district has been visiting me every alternate day with his cat in order to get the best possible care and treatment.”

In addition to lifting morale for so many Kashmiris, this renaissance in human-animal connection has also raised the spirits of a seasoned veterinarian.

“Seeing the love and affection of people for their pets, especially from the younger generations, is heartwarming,” he told OZY, adding that the people, in return for the care they now shower on animals, feel a greater sense of ease, even amid hardship.

What benefits do you experience from having a pet?