The youth are often considered to define the fate of a society. When youth is directed towards education, creativity and constructive involvement, a region automatically moves forward in all spheres, be it economic growth, infrastructure, social peace or human development. But the land I call home tells a different, often tragic, story.
The greatest sorrow of Kashmir for decades was not political uncertainty or economic stagnancy. It lost its youth. A whole generation grew up with war, strikes, uncertainty, rival narratives. Many young minds were deceived, radicalised and influenced to believe that violence was a road to dignity. As families buried their sons in Kashmir, those who had engineered their deaths were safe across the border, using them as pawns in a broader geopolitical plan.
Until 2019, Kashmir was the “hartal culture,” as many dubbed it. Shutdowns, stone pelting, regular disruptions and an atmosphere of uncertainty have become an unwelcome part of everyday life. Governance was itself apparently split. The elected administration functioned from the Civil Secretariat in Srinagar, but often it was the separatist politics that dominated the public conversation from Rajbagh. This parallel power structure placed ordinary Kashmiris in a space of dread, uncertainty and lost chances.
But history has a way of testing all narratives, and in the end it is reality that prevails. The constitutional revisions of August 2019 represented a watershed moment in the current history of Kashmir. Opinions about the choice may continue to differ, but what happened next has indisputably changed the region’s course in a number of ways. The Kashmir that has slowly unfolded since then is very different from the one I grew up seeing.
In this piece I want to contrast these two different eras, not with political slogans, but with the real experiences of everyday people and the measurable changes that have taken place. It is a story of a region that in my perspective opened a new chapter in 2019 one increasingly marked by peace, progress, dignity, opportunity and development.
In Kashmir, there is a saying that till very recently the academic calendar was just a piece of paper. It was seldom seen in the genuine spirit. Perhaps no industry suffers more from the vicious cycle of street violence than education.
I still recall being in the sixth grade. Our teachers used to often not give us homework since they never knew if schools would be open the next day. “Tomorrow is a hartal day,” they would say. That uncertainty was part of our childhood. The classrooms that should have been full with curious minds were often vacant and many young boys, who should have been clutching books and pens, were on the streets pelting stones. In my opinion, this environment was systematically created by Pakistan-supported separatist networks, especially the Hurriyat, which used young minds for political ends.
There has been no debate about the academic capability of Kashmiri students. They are bright, sharp and can compete with the best in the country.” Sadly, years of closures and disturbances had created a generation whose education was repeatedly disrupted. Many students were promoted at different stages without finishing a full academic session. This left them with gaps in learning and often feeling disadvantaged when competing with pupils from the rest of India.
Pakistan and its deep state seemed bent on achieving two goals in tandem: to maintain Kashmir educationally and economically disadvantaged. The culture of strikes and street violence played both roles. Each day that schools were closed was a day that an entire generation missed opportunity.
Fast forward to now, and Kashmir looks strikingly different. Now the schools work normally, six days a week, and the pupils wake up knowing that their classes will be open tomorrow. Mostly, the uncertainty that characterized academic life has yielded to steadiness. The growth of higher education is due to the introduction of new academic programmes, professional courses and institutions. There has been a continuous increase in the engagement of women in education as well. School life has been enriched anew by discussions, science exhibitions, sports competitions and cultural events. For many Kashmiris, myself included, this normalcy felt almost inconceivable, because we had never really known it.
The numbers mirror this transition, too. Official UDISE+ data shows that student registration in Jammu and Kashmir has climbed by approximately 1.2 lakh in 2024, showing expanding engagement in formal education. The latest UDISE+ numbers also reveal that enrolment has continued to climb with more than 26.5 lakh children enrolled in schools in the Union Territory. While obstacles remain, the resumption of a normal academic calendar may have been one of the most impactful advances for Kashmir’s youth. For the first time in many years, uncertainty isn’t continually interrupting schooling, and that alone is a big change.
In nutshell, let’s talk about how life has shifted at the ground level. Today, when a subsidy is announced, it doesn’t vanish in layers of paperwork or middlemen. It hits your account through DBT, direct and visible. Schemes aren’t slogans anymore. They reach the people they’re meant for, whether it’s housing, ration, or student scholarships. Online services run round the clock. Tourism hasn’t just come back; it has grown beyond anyone’s expectations. Hotels in Pahalgam, Gulmarg, and Sonamarg are booked throughout the year. People are coming from across the world, not just to click pictures but to shoot films. Film tourism is back. Electricity isn’t just a winter-time promise anymore, and clean water reaches homes where people once walked miles with buckets. Life has started to feel liveable again. And when the last elections happened, people stepped out to vote without fear. There were no grenade attacks, no deserted polling booths. That fear is gone now. Something has changed, not just in policy but in the everyday dignity of living. Don’t you think that is a change?
vadiekashmir@gmail.com





