MUSHTAQ BALA
In recent months, I have found myself increasingly concerned — not about politics, not about shifting power equations, not even about economic packages — but about something far quieter and far more personal.
I am concerned about our youth.
Across Kashmir, I meet young boys and girls who are bright, articulate, ambitious and full of promise. Yet beneath their confidence, I often sense a deep and unspoken anxiety. It is not always visible. It does not erupt in protests. It does not trend on social media. But it is there — steady, growing, and silently shaping a generation.
We are witnessing a crisis that we are not openly discussing.
For decades, education has been our strongest shield against uncertainty. In a region that has seen prolonged instability, families have placed their faith in books, degrees, and competitive examinations. Becoming a doctor, an engineer, or securing a government position has symbolised not just employment, but security and dignity.
But today, the competition has become overwhelming.
Thousands compete for a handful of posts. Examinations are delayed. Recruitment processes stretch endlessly. Results remain pending. Each delay is not just administrative — it is emotional. Months and years of preparation hang in uncertainty.
I often ask myself: what does this do to a young mind?
When a student narrowly misses a merit list, it is not merely an academic setback. It becomes a blow to self-worth. In our society, we have unintentionally equated success with selection and failure with rejection. That equation is deeply flawed — and deeply damaging.
Another dimension that troubles me is the coaching culture that has quietly taken over our cities. Students move from school to tuition centres, from tuition centres to online test series. There is little space for creativity, sports, reflection, or even simple leisure. Rest is seen as laziness. Anxiety is dismissed as weakness.
We tell our children to be strong. But strength without emotional support can turn into isolation.
The digital age has further intensified pressure. Social media has become a comparison machine. Every success story is amplified; every achievement is displayed. What we do not see are the struggles behind closed doors — the repeated attempts, the self-doubt, the sleepless nights.
Comparison is exhausting. And our youth are exhausted.
There is also a larger uncertainty that shapes their anxiety — questions about long-term opportunities, private sector growth, migration, and stability. Many young people confide that they feel caught between hope and hesitation. They want to build their future here, yet they fear stagnation.
Our daughters carry an additional weight. Alongside academic competition, they navigate societal expectations and timelines. Yet I must say, the determination I see among young Kashmiri women is extraordinary. They deserve encouragement, not pressure.
What concerns me most is that mental health remains a whispered subject. Counselling support in educational institutions is minimal. Conversations within families often focus on performance, not emotional well-being. We rarely ask our children how they are feeling — we mostly ask what they have achieved.
This must change.
As a society, we need to redefine success. A government job is honourable — but it is not the only measure of worth. Entrepreneurship, creative professions, technology, skilled trades, research, arts — these pathways must be normalised and respected.
We also need transparent and timely recruitment processes. Administrative delays have psychological consequences. When uncertainty becomes prolonged, it breeds despair.
Above all, we need listening spaces — in homes, in colleges, in communities. A young person who feels heard is less likely to feel alone.
Kashmir has produced resilient generations. Our youth have grown up amid challenges that would overwhelm many societies. But resilience should not be romanticised to the point where suffering is ignored.
If anxiety continues to grow silently, it will eventually manifest in ways we cannot afford — disengagement, migration of talent, or worse.
The future of Kashmir will not be determined only by policies and projects. It will be shaped by the emotional health of its young people.
It is time we listen — carefully, compassionately, and without judgement.
The crisis may be silent.
But our response should not be.
Mushtaq Bala is Editor-in-Chief of Kashmir Pen, an award-winning filmmaker, cultural commentator, and advocate for peace through narrative media.
