For the first time in my life, I see momentum. Real, visible, tangible progress. The kind you can feel when a child carries a schoolbag instead of a stone. The kind you see when a father smiles watching his son log in to an online coding class. The kind you hear when tourists ask for directions to hidden valleys instead of asking if it’s safe to visit. This is the Jammu and Kashmir I live in now. Not a land stuck in conflict, but a land carving out its future.
I grew up in a Kashmir where fear was part of daily life. Schools were shut for weeks without warning. Hartals, curfews, and whispers of encounters filled the air more often than any talk of hope. That was the norm we silently accepted. But something began to shift after 2019. Slowly at first, then unmistakably. The ground started feeling different. The atmosphere began clearing, not just literally but in every sense of the word. You could feel it in the evenings that weren’t cut short anymore by sirens or stone pelting. You could see it in the way local shopkeepers kept their shutters open longer, in how children began to play in the lanes without their parents calling them in early. Peace, the kind we once thought belonged to another world, started making a quiet comeback. Stone pelting, once tragically routine, became rare. There’s no denying the fact that the security forces have dismantled several terror networks over the last few years. Encounters still happen, but they are now precise, targeted, and usually followed by swift rehabilitation of the areas affected. The fear hasn’t vanished entirely, but it’s no longer the dominant emotion.
Something else changed that hit closer to home for many of us. Jobs. For the first time in decades, recruitment drives started happening without whispers of corruption. I remember when my friend Irfan from Baramulla cracked a government exam through JKSSB. His father, who had given up hope on the system years ago, couldn’t believe there was no backdoor deal involved. People began to trust that hard work could actually lead somewhere. Recruitment processes became faster and cleaner. No more year-long delays. No more “sources” needed. But it’s not just about government jobs. The real surprise has been how many young people are turning towards entrepreneurship. I met a young woman named Saima in Shopian who started her own dry fruit packaging unit with help from PMEGP. She now employs six others and recently started exporting outside Kashmir. I remember thinking, this is the kind of ripple effect that changes villages. Schemes like Tejaswini, Mumkin, and Start-Up India aren’t just headlines. They’ve become lifelines. What used to be desperation to leave the valley in search of work is now turning into the confidence to build something within it.
Education has also taken a different shape. Earlier, school was something that happened in between shutdowns. Now, classrooms are open, textbooks are upgraded, digital boards are being introduced, and the idea of preparing for NEET or UPSC doesn’t sound far-fetched to students from Kupwara or Kulgam. It’s not just the physical schools that are changing. It’s the mindset of an entire generation. When you build an IIT in Jammu, an IIM in Jammu, and an AIIMS in Awantipora, you’re not just creating infrastructure. You’re telling the youth that they no longer need to leave their land for opportunity. They can find it right here. Travel has also changed. I used to dread the Jammu to Srinagar road trip. What was once a nine or ten-hour nightmare is now smooth and shorter, thanks to the new tunnels and widened highways. The rail link connecting Baramulla to Udhampur will be a game changer. Remote areas that were once only accessible by foot or poorly maintained roads are now getting connected. Bridges, tunnels, expressways, they aren’t just civil works. They’re threads stitching together an entire region that was once isolated.
Tourism is another big one. We always knew Kashmir was beautiful, but for a long time, we watched that beauty decay in silence. Now, tourists are back, not just in Srinagar or Gulmarg, but in lesser-known gems like Gurez, Bungus, and Lolab. I met a couple from Gujarat in a guest house in Gulmarg last summer. They told me they’d never felt safer anywhere else. The numbers back this up as 2023 saw the highest tourist footfall in Kashmir’s history. That’s not just good news for the state’s image. It’s food on the table for thousands of families. And then there’s the economy. It’s moving. Not just on paper, but in real life. Investment proposals worth tens of thousands of crores have come in since the new industrial policy. Warehouses, IT parks, food processing units are actual projects, not just announcements. Our artisans are now using e-commerce to sell carpets, pashmina, and papier-mâché to global buyers. Kashmiri saffron and basmati have received GI tags. And the government is backing it up with logistics, packaging support, and cold storage chains.
What I find most hopeful, though, is the way young people are making headlines for the right reasons. Gold medals in national sports meets. Coding competitions won by students from small villages. Startups being incubated. Film festivals being hosted. It’s no longer a surprise to see a Kashmiri youth making it big. What used to be a steady stream of news about terrorism has been replaced with stories of innovation and resilience. That is the Kashmir I always believed was possible. I won’t say everything is perfect. We still have challenges, and there are areas that need attention. But for the first time in my life, I see momentum. Real, visible, tangible progress. The kind you can feel when a child carries a schoolbag instead of a stone. The kind you see when a father smiles watching his son log in to an online coding class. The kind you hear when tourists ask for directions to hidden valleys instead of asking if it’s safe to visit. This is the Jammu and Kashmir I live in now. Not a land stuck in conflict, but a land carving out its future.
The writer is a student activist and can be reached at soulofkashmir1@gmail.com





