The Women Carrying Water—and the World

Pir Ki Gali, Jammu and Kashmir – It was a sunny and calm afternoon at Pir Ki Gali, a mountain pass in the Pir Panjal Himalayas, connecting the Poonch and Shopian districts of Jammu and Kashmir. As the sun and clouds played hide-and-seek, 20-year-old Asima Choudhury, a shepherdess from Gujjar-Bakarwal, a nomadic community known for herding sheep and goats across the mountains, watched her flock graze on the slope. Her stone and mud shelter was a 20-minute walk over steep, uneven terrain.

Of the 1.49 million Gujjar-Bakarwals in Jammu and Kashmir, many still undertake seasonal migrations between the plains of Jammu and the high grasslands of Kashmir. The women, who manage their families and herds during these arduous journeys, contribute almost nothing to carbon emissions, yet bear the brunt of climate change: erratic heatwaves, unpredictable snowfall, and resource scarcity. Their struggles extend beyond physical difficulties into a silent mental health crisis that is largely absent from policy discussions.

For women like Asima, these abstract statistics and political gaps translate into an exhausting daily routine up steep slopes, where each step carries physical strain and mental burden.

When Asima’s older brother returned from his lunch break, he whistled in her direction. After Asima recognized the signal, she picked up her jacket and her cane and started walking towards Doka. “He will take care of the herd now,” she said as she continued walking down the narrow path. “I will go have tea and get some water while my mother cooks.” Halfway there, she paused and pointed toward a patch of grass. “Not like this, it’s wet and slippery,” she warned. Her quick instinct and keen eye for the terrain revealed how well she knew every inch of the hills, a knowledge she had acquired through years of living and herding in these mountains.

This deep knowledge of the mountains makes the changes that Asma has witnessed in recent years even more surprising. Sitting outside her home, she spoke of how the increasing heat had exacerbated her family’s daily struggle to obtain water. “Five years ago, we could fill our pots from the spring right behind Doka,” she said, adjusting her scarf to face the sun. “Now we walk for hours, and the road is dangerously steep. Some days, we walk twice, in the morning and evening, just to have enough to cook and drink.”

Water shortage becomes a particular challenge during menstruation. “There are no toilets, and bathing is really difficult,” Asma said. “We used to build small fences near the spring, but even this basic dignity has now become a struggle.”

“Sometimes I feel suffocated,” she said of the daily challenges of survival. “We constantly ask ourselves, why do we have to live like this?”

Asima’s struggle is emblematic of a broader reality faced by Indigenous women whose daily lives and well-being are inextricably linked to the land. For these women, the physical hardships of migration intersect directly with mental health challenges, as anxiety, depression and chronic stress create what experts describe as a widespread silent crisis that is largely absent from policy discussions.

“Indigenous women’s lives are inextricably linked to the land and forests,” said Bijayalaxmi Rautarai, a development practitioner who works on health and livelihood issues with indigenous women. “Unfortunately, climate change strikes at the roots of their existence, acting as a force of cultural and economic disruption. It directly impacts women’s mental health through multiple interconnected pathways.” Foreign policy.

“In these communities, women bear the burden of the entire family,” Rautarai added. “Flexible weather, drought and landslides force herders to walk further and work harder to support their families. Even collecting firewood has become a physically exhausting task, adding to the stress they are already enduring.”

According to a 2021 study by the Jammu and Kashmir Policy Institute, climate change is reshaping life in Gujjar-Bakarwal communities, with women disproportionately affected. Dry springs, erratic rainfall, and long treks to fetch water force these women into cycles of exhaustion that have serious mental health consequences, from constant anxiety to sleep deprivation.

Experts say such life experiences reveal a critical political blind spot, where mental health remains largely excluded from climate and health planning.

“While there is growing recognition that climate and health responses must include mental health, the lived experiences of indigenous and nomadic communities still receive very little attention,” said Anant Bhan, a global health and bioethics researcher. “As climate disruption worsens, groups living on the margins – such as nomadic populations – face disproportionate risks. Their well-being, including mental health, must become a key part of climate and health planning.”

He added: “Policy frameworks need flexibility and depth to respond to these realities. Addressing these challenges requires a multi-sectoral approach, one that links health, climate adaptation, livelihoods and income support, so that no community is left behind.”

This political invisibility exacerbates the daily lives of women like Asima, who suffer from constant physical and mental stress, which is exacerbated by the lack of access to health services and community support.

“Indigenous women live in a state of stress and anxiety, and sometimes face depression, but they don’t know how to explain it to doctors,” said Arif Al-Mughrabi, a psychiatrist who runs mobile medical camps along migration routes in Gujjar-Bakarwal communities.

“Linguistic barriers and social stigma often leave these diseases untreated,” he added. “Social pressures, including the community’s common practice of consanguineous marriage, add another layer of stress, especially for women who are raising children who are more at risk for developmental challenges or intellectual disabilities.”

These challenges reflect a broader pattern documented among indigenous women around the world. The Women Rise 2023 report, which examines climate impacts on marginalized communities, finds that environmental change is amplifying existing gender and health inequalities, especially in remote, resource-dependent areas. The research reveals a gap: when climate adaptation plans fail to integrate sexual, reproductive and mental health services, they deepen the very vulnerabilities they aim to address.

For Gujjar-Bakarwal women, this policy gap means tangible daily consequences – dry springs, erratic rainfall, long treks to fetch water, forcing them to traverse treacherous terrain multiple times a day, a physically exhausting routine that makes maintaining basic needs like menstrual hygiene and bathing increasingly difficult. The loss of grazing land exacerbates family economic pressures, a burden that falls disproportionately on women who must find ways to capitalize on dwindling resources.

“The mountains are changing, and so are our lives,” Assima said, her voice carrying the weight of exhaustion. “What our mothers and grandmothers did so easily, we now suffer every day. It’s not just about walking further to get water or finding less grass for our animals, it’s about feeling helpless and wondering if this life is even possible anymore. The struggle not only exhausts our bodies, it breaks something inside us.”

Many others in the mountains are participating in Asma’s struggle. Two miles away is another Dhoka area, where 18-year-old Samina Chaudhary lives with her family of eight. Like Asima, she spends her days tending to the herd, but her responsibilities extend beyond the pastures.

Samina’s burden increased three years ago when her younger brother began showing signs of developmental delay, a condition that Al-Maghrabi explained may be linked to the consanguineous marriage common in their community. Now, in addition to grazing and housework, she helps take care of her brother while managing her health struggles. “Some nights, I can’t sleep, and I think about everything, about the animals, about my brother, about whether we will have enough water tomorrow,” she said, twisting the edge of her scarf. “My mother says I worry a lot, but how could I not? The weight of all this is on my chest.”

“Being a woman here means carrying the burden of family and flock together,” Samina said. “We walk miles to fetch water, take care of animals, cook, clean, and take care of everyone, including visiting relatives. On top of that, we manage our health and privacy in a place where nothing comes easy. Every day is hard, but we depend on each other to keep going and survive.”

The friendship between Samina and Asima, forged over years of neighboring migrations, has become a lifeline for both of them. When isolation and stress become severe, they search for each other along the mountain paths; Not just to share stories about flocks and routines, but to discuss the intimate emotional and physical challenges they share that neither can fully explain to their families.

For women who become mothers in these harsh conditions, the daily challenges become even more difficult. For 22-year-old Rubina Ali, pregnancy was one of the most difficult periods of her life. “There was no rest, no time to think about myself,” she recalled. “Even carrying water or cooking felt heavy, and I used to worry all the time about the baby when I climbed the steep slopes.”

Since the birth of a baby girl a month ago, life has become more difficult. When the seasonal migration period began, her family made the difficult decision to leave her with her relatives. Robina had just given birth and was unable to walk long distances or hold her newborn safely.

“It was a very difficult stage,” Robina said. “I was adjusting to a new lifestyle and I needed my immediate family, especially my husband, around me. But they had to keep going to survive, while I stayed for my health and the safety of my baby. Every day, I thought about my family and cried in isolation.”

Even now, the responsibilities of caring for her newborn, along with memories of that isolation and the constant stress of climate uncertainty, weigh heavily on her. “Every day I feel like I’m carrying a mountain on my shoulders,” Robina said. “The heat, the water, the animals, the baby – it all comes together, and I feel nervous, Musaybat [misery]all the time. Sometimes I just want to disappear, but I can’t. “I have to keep working for my family.”

For women like Robina, these broader systemic and environmental pressures translate into very real daily struggles that are physically exhausting and mentally exhausting.

Al-Maghrabi, the psychiatrist, noted, “Pregnant women in these Bedouin communities are suffering from severe stress due to climate challenges. However, no one is talking about how this affects their mental health. Politics ignore them, and the authorities often ignore their suffering, believing that awareness may ‘corrupt’ society. This is immoral; they face enormous challenges that they had no role in creating.”

According to Han, women in nomadic communities like the Gujjar-Bakarwal are among the most vulnerable to climate stress and disruption. “Given their migrant lifestyles, these women face multiple layers of risk, from displacement and disruption of livelihoods to increased care burdens and lack of access to health care,” he said. “Climate-related events such as floods and drought can exacerbate these stresses, exacerbating mental health challenges, delaying care-seeking, and deepening gender inequalities. The social context, characterized by heavy workloads, limited support, and domestic violence, only exacerbates the psychological toll.”

While Bahan’s insights highlight larger policy gaps, local doctors like Al-Mughrabi are calling for practical, community-based solutions.

“Just as mobile schools follow Gujjar-Bakarwal children, mobile medical trucks should travel with local communities, providing chronic disease care and mental health support where they live and migrate,” Al-Maghrabi said.

Now, as the mountains grow harsher and the springs disappear, women like Asima, Samina and Rubina continue to carry water and the weight of a changing world. Their lives reveal a silent crisis: climate change is not just an environmental or economic threat; It is a profound mental health emergency for women whose survival depends on mobility and resilience.