Opinion | State: The Second Mother

If a mother teaches her child to take his first steps, the state ensures the road beneath his feet is steady. Just as a mother sacrifices her sleep for her child’s well-being, the state builds hospitals, provides education, and safeguards his future. The state is the second mother, always giving, always protecting.

The first time a child opens his eyes, it is his mother who holds him close, feeds him, and protects him from the unknown. She nurtures him, teaches him to walk, helps him speak his first words, and shields him from the cold world outside. But as he grows, steps out of his home, and begins to understand the vastness of life, he comes under the care of another mother — his state. If a mother teaches a child to walk, the state ensures the road beneath him is smooth and safe. If a mother ensures he sleeps peacefully, the state safeguards his nights with security and law. In every stage of life, in visible and invisible ways, the state becomes the second mother, silently shaping his destiny.

In the bustling streets of Srinagar, a young boy clutches his father’s hand as they walk towards a government hospital. He is running a fever, and his worried father prays for a doctor’s help. The moment they step inside, they are greeted not by the cold demand of money, but by the warmth of free medical care under the Ayushman Bharat scheme. In that moment, the state embraces the child as its own, ensuring that health remains a right, not a privilege. Just as a mother sacrifices her sleep for her child’s well-being, the state builds hospitals, deploys doctors, and provides medicine so that no child suffers in silence. In Kashmir, where winters are harsh and terrains unforgiving, mobile health units now reach remote villages, ensuring that even those in the farthest corners receive care. The construction of AIIMS Awantipora, alongside district hospitals in Kupwara and Anantnag, is proof of a state that tirelessly works to heal its people.

A mother knows that the greatest gift she can give her child is knowledge. She sits by his side, helping him with his schoolwork, correcting his mistakes, and encouraging him to dream big. In the same way, the state opens the doors of schools and universities, making education accessible to every child, regardless of wealth or status. The mid-day meal scheme ensures that hunger does not steal a student’s attention from his books. Government scholarships carry the dreams of the underprivileged to institutions they never imagined reaching. For a Kashmiri student, schemes like PMSSS (Prime Minister’s Special Scholarship Scheme) have turned impossible aspirations into reality, just like a mother’s unwavering belief in her child’s potential. Under Operation Sadbhavana, thousands of Kashmiri children have received financial aid, hostel facilities, and even trips to cities outside the valley, exposing them to a world of possibilities.

As the years pass, the child grows into a man who must now step into the real world, where survival depends on opportunities. The state, like a mother, ensures he does not wander aimlessly. It builds roads that lead him to his workplace, launches employment schemes that provide him a livelihood, and stands as a pillar of support in times of crisis. Be it the MGNREGA scheme, which provides guaranteed work to the rural poor, or start-up incentives that help young entrepreneurs, the state ensures its children do not suffer the helplessness of poverty. In Kashmir, the once-crumbling infrastructure has seen a resurgence, with projects like the Zojila Tunnel, the Baramulla-Banihal railway line, and upgraded highways connecting regions and fuelling economic growth. Just as a mother ensures her child never stumbles in darkness, the state now ensures uninterrupted power supply, better roads, and improved connectivity, making life easier for its people.

However, just as a mother disciplines her child, the state too must enforce laws to protect its citizens. A mother scolds her son when he strays, not out of cruelty, but out of love. In the same way, the state enacts laws and policies not to restrict freedom, but to ensure order and security. In a land like Kashmir, where external forces have often tried to lure its youth into paths of destruction, the state’s vigilance has been the guiding force, rescuing thousands from being swallowed by violence. Many misguided youths have been given opportunities to reintegrate through de-radicalization programs, skill development courses, and rehabilitation schemes, proving that the state does not punish, but corrects — just like a mother. The elimination of glorified militant funerals and recruitment networks has saved countless young minds from being lost to a cycle of destruction. Initiatives like Operation Sadbhavana have strengthened the bond between the state and its people, proving that governance is not just about power, but about protection, care, and guidance.

In recent years, the state has also embraced the role of nurturing the environment, realizing that clean air, green spaces, and access to nature are vital for a child’s wholesome development. Afforestation drives, lake restoration projects in Srinagar, and sustainable farming schemes across rural districts are efforts by the state to ensure that its children grow up in harmony with nature. Like a mother who tells her child not to litter, who teaches him to plant a tree and conserve water, the state now steps into that role with seriousness, guiding society toward ecological responsibility.

But what happens when a child forgets the value of his mother’s sacrifices? What happens when he questions every act of care and sees discipline as oppression? The same question arises when citizens, blind to the state’s efforts, only see its faults. No mother is perfect, and neither is any government. There will always be gaps, grievances, and struggles. But just as a child does not abandon his mother for her shortcomings, a citizen must not abandon faith in his state. A responsible citizen works alongside his government, just as a loving son supports his aging mother.

The essence of a mother’s love is that it asks for nothing in return. The state, too, gives endlessly — education, healthcare, security, employment — not expecting gratitude, but hoping for responsibility. In Kashmir, every road that is taken for granted, every hospital that saves a life, every school that shapes a future, and every soldier that stands guard in the freezing night is a reminder that the state is always there, quietly, like a mother who never stops loving, even when unappreciated. The question remains: if the state plays the role of a second mother, are we, as its children, playing our role with equal devotion?

The writer is a regular columnist for local dailies of J&K and is a student activist. He can be reached at faizannabi227@gmail.com