When Love Costs Too Much
By: Er Navaid Runyal
In the valleys of Jammu and Kashmir, where snow-capped peaks touch the skies and rivers sing ancient songs, love should be something pure, timeless, and healing. Yet, for countless young couples, it has become a battlefield not of emotions but of societal pressures, financial burdens, and the heavy chains of tradition.
Here, love often doesn’t fail because two people grow apart. It fails because the world around them demands more than they can give. Dowry expectations, unstable job markets, and the unspoken but powerful weight of social status crush many relationships before they ever have a chance to blossom.
The Silent Breakers of Hearts
When a young man and woman in J&K fall in love, they do so with hope. They dream of walking together in the orchards during spring, of sipping noon chai on cold mornings, and of building a life in the midst of the region’s beauty. But reality interrupts with harsh reminders.
Marriage here is rarely just about love—it’s a transaction, a union negotiated between families rather than simply agreed upon by hearts. And the “price” of that union is often set not in smiles or shared dreams, but in cash, gold, property, and professional stability.
The demand for dowry, though illegal, has not faded. It may not always be called by its name—sometimes it’s disguised as “gifts,” “contributions,” or “help for starting a new life.” But the effect is the same: a financial burden placed upon the bride’s family so heavy that many fathers quietly sell land, drain savings, or fall into debt just to ensure their daughter’s wedding is “respectable.”
And if those demands aren’t met? The relationship breaks. Sometimes before the marriage is arranged; sometimes tragically after the engagement, when one family realizes the other cannot “match” their expectations.
Jobs: The New Dowry
In Jammu and Kashmir, where unemployment rates remain high especially among youth—a job has become more than a necessity. It has become a currency of marriage.
For many grooms, a government job is the ticket to an “acceptable” match. For many brides, it is considered a mark of security that their future in-laws expect. Private jobs, no matter how demanding, often fail to impress because they lack the stability and social prestige of a government post.
The cruel truth is that love without a job is rarely enough here. Countless young men, despite being educated and skilled, see their proposals rejected simply because they do not have the “right” kind of employment. And in reverse, some women face heartbreak when their partners are told by their families to marry someone with “better qualifications” or “higher status.”
The result? Relationships that could have flourished are instead ended by an invisible checklist of financial stability and societal approval.
Social Status: The Invisible Wall
Beyond dowry and jobs lies another powerful barrier social status. In smaller towns and villages, people are sorted in invisible hierarchies based on family reputation, land ownership, educational background, and sometimes even caste or community.
Young people may meet, talk, and grow close, but when the word “marriage” enters the conversation, families often pull out the unspoken map of social positioning. “What will people say?” becomes more important than “Will they be happy?”
For some, marrying into a family seen as “lower” in status is considered a step down, no matter how compatible the couple may be. And so, parents intervene—sometimes with persuasion, sometimes with force—until love bends or breaks under the weight of public opinion.
Stories Buried in Silence
Behind these patterns are real human stories, each marked by pain that rarely reaches the public eye.
A young man in Srinagar spends his days tutoring children while preparing for competitive exams. He loves a girl from his college days, but her parents have made it clear: unless he secures a government job, marriage is out of the question. She waits for him, but as the years pass and the pressure mounts, cracks begin to form in their relationship.
In a village in Doda, a family refuses a match for their daughter because the groom’s father is not considered “well-off enough,” even though the boy is hardworking and educated. She marries someone else chosen for her, but later admits to her friends that her heart still aches for the life she could have had.
In Ramban, a young couple breaks off their engagement when the groom’s relatives quietly insist on a “contribution” for setting up a new house. The bride’s father, already struggling with debts, cannot bear the humiliation or the financial strain. The love story ends without a wedding.
The Emotional Toll
For those who experience these heartbreaks, the pain is not just emotional—it is existential. They are left questioning not only their relationships but also their place in society.
Men feel inadequate because they cannot meet the job expectations set before them. Women feel reduced to what their families can “offer” in dowry or status. And both lose faith in the idea that love can triumph over social rules.
This emotional toll also feeds into larger societal problems mental health struggles, rising cases of depression among youth, and a growing sense of frustration with a culture that preaches morality but practices materialism.
Why Change Feels So Hard
The tragedy is that most people in J&K know these problems exist. They talk about them in hushed tones at weddings, in tea shops, and during family discussions. Yet, few take the first step to break the cycle.
Why? Because tradition is a stubborn wall. Parents fear that if they abandon dowry expectations, they will seem “lesser” in the eyes of relatives. Young people fear losing family support if they marry against their wishes. And so, the same old patterns repeat year after year, generation after generation.
A Ray of Hope
Change, however slow, is possible. Some families have begun rejecting dowry openly, choosing to focus on compatibility and mutual respect over material gain. A small but growing number of couples are defying social norms, marrying for love despite status differences.
Awareness campaigns led by local NGOs and student groups are also helping to challenge old thinking. Social media, often criticized for promoting superficial lifestyles, has in some cases become a platform for young Kashmiris to speak against dowry and societal pressures.
The road is long, but every couple that chooses love over tradition plants a seed for a future where young people in J&K can marry without the burden of proving their worth in gold, land, or job titles.
Conclusion: When Love Costs Too Much
In Jammu and Kashmir, love should be about shared dreams and mutual respect, not about how much a family can pay, what job a person holds, or how “high” they stand in social ladders.
When love costs too much, it stops being love and becomes a trade. And every time a relationship breaks under these pressures, the entire community loses not just two people.
If the valleys of J&K can teach the world anything, it is that beauty lies in simplicity. Perhaps it is time to apply that wisdom to marriage as well—to strip away the unnecessary demands and let love be enough.
Because if we do not, the next generation will inherit not just the breathtaking landscapes of this land, but also the heartbreak that has become all too common here.
In the land where mountains stand eternal, let love stand eternal too—free from the price tags that have no place in the human heart.
(The author is a geotechnical engineer from Marnal Maligam( Pogal Paristan) Ramban. He is a regular contributor to ‘Kashmir Vision’)
