A decade ago, a chief editor Farooq Khan (name changed) – himself a passionate golfer – remarked that the one pastime I did not share was the very one he enjoyed most. I never wrote then. But whenever I pass that place overlooking Dal Lake, the questions return: At what cost? How many trees? And for whose benefit?
Fiaz Maqbool Fazili
The RSGC-Royal springs golf course is undeniably magnificent, golfers’ paradise. Nestled at the foothills of the Zabarwan mountains in Srinagar, this 18-hole, par-72 course stretches approximately 6,387 metres. Designed by renowned American architect Robert Trent Jones Jr. and opened in 2001, it offers a breathtaking backdrop against the iconic Dal Lake. It is widely recognised as one of Asia’s most beautiful public golf courses.
The State authorities and planning board has been keenly aware of this asset. In recent years, J&K Tourism has actively promoted the Valley as a “golfers’ paradise” and a high-end destination. Chief Minister Omar Abdullah himself inaugurated the India Golf Carnival 2026 at the course, emphasising that events like these “provide an important platform to showcase the region’s world-class sporting infrastructure” and contribute significantly to the local economy. The goal is clear: attract high-spending tourists, both domestic and international, and place Kashmir firmly on the global golf map.
These are worthy ambitions. Yet a nagging question too little too late persists: at what cost was this paradise created? The Ecological Price. The RSGC was carved out of the “Salim Ali National Park,” – a city forest once home to a diverse range of wildlife, including the critically endangered Hangul, black bears, and leopards. Axes and bulldozers razed trees and levelled slopes to make way for manicured greens. While the course now hosts international tournaments, the animals that once roamed there were displaced. Bears, in particular, continue to “infiltrate” the course, crossing electric fencing, reminding us they have not forgotten their natural habitat.
This brings to mind another episode that has long intrigued me. Years ago, a renowned non- resident Kashmiri (NRK) cardiologist proposed establishing a super-specialty heart hospital near the golf course. As I understand it, concerns were raised regarding road access and the site’s designation as a green belt under the Master Plan – both entirely valid planning considerations. What has always aroused my curiosity is whether an alternative site, reportedly offered, was ever explored in greater detail. If the objective was to establish a world-class cardiac institute for the people of Jammu & Kashmir and beyond, were there technical, academic, logistical, environmental, or long-term strategic reasons that made the original location uniquely suitable? Why not accept alternative site? I raise this out of genuine curiosity and from my experience in hospital planning and healthcare projects. Decisions of this nature are rarely straightforward, and the public seldom sees the full technical, environmental, and strategic considerations involved. Understanding that perspective could offer valuable lessons for future healthcare planning and public policy. It is rare to encounter a medical professional who views healing not as a profession, but as a calling—and rarer still, one who builds institutions not as personal legacies, but as living missions of service. One cannot help but admire clinicians who build institutions not as monuments, but as missions. Dr. Upendra Kaul is a fine example. His vision gave the Valley a comprehensive cardiac centre offering diagnosis, intervention, and follow-up under one roof. He later extended this mission by establishing another cardiac facility near his ancestral village in Pulwama, bringing specialised care closer to the community, that bridges the urban-rural divide in healthcare. It is a reminder that the true measure of healthcare is not merely excellence, but accessibility. A network of district-based cardiac centres linked to a tertiary referral institute could transform cardiac care across Jammu & Kashmir. Dr. Kaul deserves not just our admiration, but our deepest gratitude. He has given the Valley not only a heart centre, but a heart—one that beats in rhythm with the community it serves.
The Health Case for the Game:
Before I continue with my reflections, let me acknowledge something important. My golf-playing friends are not merely pursuing leisure; they are investing in their wellbeing and are investing in their health. After swimming, golf is perhaps one of the finest forms of exercise, benefiting both body and mind. A typical 18-hole round involves walking 6–8 kilometres – often close to 10,000 steps – across undulating terrain in the open air. Beyond the cardiovascular benefits, the game improves flexibility, balance, coordination, and bone health. Studies have also associated regular golf with lower rates of heart disease, healthier blood pressure, and improved cholesterol profiles. Golf is equally rewarding for mental well-being. Hours spent walking, focusing, planning the next shot, and moving on from mistakes cultivate patience, concentration, and resilience. For many older adults, it helps preserve mobility, cognitive function, and social engagement, A neighbour in his sixties often says with a smile, “The course is my pharmacy—no pills, just the fairway.” There is wisdom in that. In an age of sedentary lifestyles and lifestyle-related diseases, any activity that keeps people active deserves appreciation. In that sense, golfers are not merely playing a sport—they are practising preventive healthcare. This deserves recognition.
A Golfer’s Reflection:
A close friend and neighbour, an avid golfer, once remarked over tea, “When I step onto the fairway, I’m entering a different world.” For him, golf was about more than the game. Hours spent walking the course fostered conversation, trust, and friendships in ways formal meetings rarely could. Other golfers have shared the same sentiment: on the fairway, titles recede and people connect simply as fellow human beings. There is nothing unusual about this. From St. Andrews to Augusta, golf has long been recognised as a sport that nurtures relationships. Kashmir is no exception; where personal connections often matter, that social dimension is naturally more visible. This is not a criticism of golf but a critique from an inquisitive mind- old habits die hard. The broader question is whether the opportunities that arise from such networks are accessible to everyone, or remain largely confined to those who already have access.
A Non-Golfer’s Reflection:
Perception or Reality. Is golf an elite pastime or a public good? As someone who has never played golf, I have often wondered whether it is a sport meant only for the affluent. Many non-golfers instinctively think so. Yet, conversations with friends who play the game have convinced me that the reality is far more nuanced. Most golfers are not members of an affluent elite. They are professionals, salaried employees, retirees, businessmen and enthusiasts who simply enjoy the game for its exercise, discipline, companionship, and mental well-being. For them, golf is a passion rather than a symbol of privilege. The State authorities’ plans to expand membership and establish a golf academy to nurture local talent are welcome and forward-looking. They also highlight golf’s potential to promote tourism and support the wider economy. At the same time, a broader public question remains. Given the cost of membership, equipment, and training, how accessible is the sport to the average Kashmiri? While golf tourism undoubtedly benefits hotels, transport, and handicrafts, it is worth reflecting on how these benefits can be shared more widely. Perhaps the challenge is not whether golf is an exclusive sport, but how it can become more inclusive while continuing to contribute to the region’s economy.
A Gentle Reckoning:
The RSGC is an integral part of Kashmir’s landscape and a source of pride. It enhances tourism, promotes recreation, and has earned the Valley recognition as a golfers’ paradise. At the same time, it reflects a broader development choice. Like any major public asset, it invites a continuing conversation about how best to balance tourism, recreation, environmental stewardship, and the wider public interest.
We must ask ourselves whether this choice was a fair one. Was it necessary to build a golf course in a national park? Could the infrastructure for proposed hospital have been accommodated differently? And how do we ensure that the benefits of this beautiful facility reach beyond the privileged few? These are questions without easy answers. They are not meant to shame or blame, but to provoke thought. As the Sun sets over the Zabarwan mountains and the shadows lengthen across the fairways, we are left to ponder: what is the true scorecard of progress?
The Way Forward:
This is not a criticism of golf or those who enjoy it. Many of my friends, relatives, colleagues are passionate golfers, and I respect their choice. Nor am I suggesting that the course be dismantled. Rather, this is an invitation to reflect on how future development can better balance recreation, environmental stewardship, and the wider public interest. There is room to ask constructive questions: Can environmental impacts be assessed more transparently? Can access and participation become more inclusive? Can the economic benefits be measured more rigorously? And can pollution concerns be addressed with greater urgency?
These are not objections, but questions that a public asset of such significance deserves. This reflection is offered in the spirit of independent thought, civil dialogue, and a sincere search for understanding. On the eve of Independence Day, may we continue to ask honest questions with fairness, humility, and respect.
A Closing Request:
I hope my dear golf-playing friends—their relatives, colleagues, acquaintances, and assorted club members—will receive my friendly expressions in the true spirit of sportsman ship and kindly refrain from diagnosing me as jealous or envious. Because honestly, the fastest way to silence my pen isn’t outrage or criticism. It’s a golf lesson. Preferably before I write my next swing at the subject.
After all, what better way to settle a friendly debate than with a little sport, a little laughter, and perhaps a few swings together?
(The author is a non-golfer who nevertheless appreciates beautiful landscapes and thoughtful development. He can be reached for a game of discussion, if not golf.)
