Opinion | Present Kashmir

What strikes me most as a student is how stable the academic scene has become. Back when I was in school, exam schedules were more of a hopeful suggestion. Protests, curfews, or encounters would derail everything. Now, academic calendars are being followed religiously. University exams happen on time. Finally we are living the change.

I was born and brought up in Kupwara, a place that once made headlines for all the wrong reasons. As someone who studied in an Army Goodwill School and is now pursuing medicine, I’ve seen Kashmir change at a pace no one imagined. People outside still associate Kashmir with shutdowns, stone pelting, cross-border shelling, and fear. But if they stepped in today, they’d see a place unrecognizable from just a few years ago.

Let’s start with the visible transformation. The infrastructure across the Valley has seen a remarkable push. New tunnels like the Zojila and Z-Morh are no longer pipe dreams. Roads are being widened, flyovers are cutting down commute time in Srinagar, and the Smart City mission is reshaping the capital. The Jhelum riverfront project has turned once-neglected embankments into well-lit, walkable spaces. Street lights, underground cabling, modern traffic systems, all of this is not just cosmetic. It’s practical. It’s allowing life to function normally, which in Kashmir is a big deal.

There’s something else we never saw before: the democratic process functioning smoothly, openly, without fear. The recent Lok Sabha and Assembly elections in Kashmir broke decades-old patterns. No boycott calls, no forced shutdowns, and not a single incident of stone pelting or attacks on polling stations. Over 58 percent voter turnout in Baramulla, over 38 percent in Srinagar and more importantly, over a hundred candidates from different backgrounds filed nominations. For a region once hijacked by proxy politics, this felt like a collective awakening.

Tourism tells its own story. In 2023 alone, over 2 crore tourists visited Jammu and Kashmir. Gulmarg, Pahalgam, Sonamarg, and even lesser-known destinations in north Kashmir saw hotels running full. This isn’t just about sightseeing. It fuels the local economy, from shikara owners and hoteliers to ponywalas and handicraft sellers. For many families, tourism has become the main source of income. It has revived dying art forms, increased demand for homestays, and even led to village-based ecotourism models.

What strikes me most as a student is how stable the academic scene has become. Back when I was in school, exam schedules were more of a hopeful suggestion. Protests, curfews, or encounters would derail everything. Now, academic calendars are being followed religiously. University exams happen on time. Even board results are declared in sync with the national calendar. This consistency matters as it brings structure to young lives that were once full of uncertainty.

Markets are busy again. Shops don’t shut abruptly at 4 in the afternoon. There are no sudden hartal announcements scribbled on walls. Business is growing. Local brands are coming up. Entrepreneurs are selling everything from handcrafted soaps to tech services. New cafés are springing up. There’s an energy that says people are finally investing in their future, not just surviving the present.

One moment I’ll never forget was after the Pahalgam terror attack. For the first time in decades, people spontaneously came out on the streets chanting “Pakistan Murdabad.” That’s not a small shift. That’s an entire population rejecting the very idea of terror sanctuaries. It didn’t come from any government directive. It came from pain, clarity, and years of lost lives.

Youth in Kashmir today are writing a new script. The same Kupwara that once saw boys cross the fence is now sending its students to top universities. Many are building startups. Others are involved in research, or preparing for UPSC, NEET, and other competitive exams. The lure of radicalism has faded. Not because someone told us to stop, but because better options finally exist. Peace isn’t just the absence of gunfire. It’s the presence of possibility.

Yes, issues still exist. Unemployment is a challenge. Some trust deficits remain. But the change is undeniable. You can feel it in the way people talk, plan, dream. For me, “Present Kashmir” is not just a geographical term. It’s an emotional one. It means waking up without the fear of a shutdown. It means seeing tourists laugh in a shikara while a student next to them reads up for an entrance test. It means watching elders vote proudly while shopkeepers roll up shutters for a full day of business. It means the abnormal has become normal. And finally, it means that for the first time in a long time, we are not just waiting for peace. We are living it.

The writer is a student activist and can be reached at soulofkashmir1@gmail.com