As Muslims marked Eid Al-Adha, Basharat stood on the Pakistani-administered side of the Neelum River, looking toward the burial site of his elder brother, Raja Liaqat, in the Indian-administered village of Keran. The river forms part of the heavily militarized Line of Control (LoC), the de facto frontier dividing the disputed Himalayan region.

Liaqat died in April, and although his grave is only a short distance away, Basharat said security restrictions and political tensions made it impossible for him to visit.

“Eid is a festival of joy and celebration, but for us it has become a symbol of grief, sorrow and helplessness,” Basharat said.

The story reflects a broader reality for thousands of Kashmiri families separated by one of the world’s most sensitive military boundaries. Since the partition of British India in 1947, India and Pakistan have both claimed Kashmir in full while administering separate portions of the territory.

The 740-kilometer Line of Control cuts through mountains, forests and villages, dividing communities and relatives who often live within sight of one another but are unable to meet.

For decades, residents on both sides of the frontier maintained limited personal connections by gathering along riverbanks and hillsides to exchange greetings and catch glimpses of loved ones. Residents say such informal interactions have become increasingly rare as security measures have tightened.

“This river is visible to everyone today, but in reality it has not only divided two countries — it has torn families apart as well,” said Laiba Raja, a niece of Raja Liaqat.

“On Eid, people visit their loved ones and celebrate with family, but where are we supposed to go?” she added.

The emotional burden of separation has intensified amid deteriorating relations between India and Pakistan. Tensions worsened sharply last year following an attack in Indian-administered Kashmir that killed 26 people, most of them Hindu tourists, triggering the most serious confrontation between the nuclear-armed neighbors in years.

The fallout has further reduced opportunities for cross-border contact, according to residents and refugee representatives.

Uzair Ahmed, who heads a Kashmiri refugee organization in Pakistan-administered Kashmir, said approximately 48,000 refugees currently live in camps and urban areas across Pakistan after leaving their homes over the decades of conflict.

Many continue to hope that political conditions will eventually allow families to reunite, he said.

As dusk settles over Keran, residents can still see homes and fields across the river, a reminder of relatives living just beyond the frontier. Children play near the water while military positions overlook the valley from both sides.

“Our elders passed away waiting for that day,” Ahmed said, referring to the prospect of families embracing again, attending weddings together or paying final respects to loved ones.

“Now a new generation is growing up with the same hope.”