by Ravinder Kaur
There was a time, not very long ago, when the hands of many Kashmiri youths held stones instead of pens, when anger spoke louder than dreams, and when classrooms stood silent while the streets echoed with unrest. That phase left deep scars not just on roads and buildings, but on young hearts that had begun to believe their future had already been decided for them.
Yet, it is important to speak the truth with honesty and sensitivity: stone pelting was not a conscious or joyful choice for most of those students. It was not done for fun, nor was it a game for the majority. Behind those actions lay unresolved pain, loss, emotional trauma, confusion, and in some cases, a deep sense of revenge born out of personal or collective suffering. Many young people were swept into the moment by charged emotions, much like crowds overwhelmed by passion at places such as the Wagah Border, where emotion overtakes reason.
What was tragically missing during that time was counselling, dialogue, and guidance. There was little effort to explain to young minds that even the most complex and painful issues can be addressed through peaceful dialogue and understanding. These students were not thoughtless, they were unheard and unguided.
For many young people, education became an interrupted journey. Schools remained closed for long periods, academic calendars were disrupted, and uncertainty became a daily reality. Even though many students were capable and sincere and some continued to perform well academically, the constant instability distracted them from long-term career planning. Dropping out sometimes felt easier than holding on to a future that seemed uncertain and fragile.
That period also brought severe economic consequences. Markets shut down, businesses suffered, livelihoods collapsed, and the region’s economy fell to a grossly low level. Repeated internet shutdowns isolated Kashmir from the rest of the world. Online education became nearly impossible, communication broke down, and students were cut off from global learning opportunities. Life during those days felt suspended almost lifeless. Students lived with fear and uncertainty, unsure whether tomorrow would bring normalcy or chaos, whether they could study, attend school, or even dream freely.
But Kashmir has always been more than its wounds. It is a land of resilience, quiet strength, and people who refuse to surrender hope forever.
Over the last decade, something profound has slowly changed. Today, when we look at Kashmir’s youth, we see backpacks replacing stones, books replacing fear, and classrooms filling with voices that once had no space to speak. With the end of widespread stone pelting, the same youth is now focusing on education, careers, family responsibilities, society, and even environmental awareness. Stability has allowed young minds to breathe, reflect, and redirect their energy toward constructive paths.
This transformation did not happen overnight. It came through patience, persistence, and countless unseen efforts by parents, teachers, educationists, and institutions who believed that education is the most powerful form of healing. Renewed focus on schooling, scholarships, digital learning initiatives, skill-development programs, and improved access to educational institutions helped reopen doors that had been shut for years.
More importantly, education began to restore dignity. When a child sits in a classroom, they are not just learning subjects , they are learning to dream again. When a teenager prepares for exams instead of protests, they begin to imagine a future shaped by choice, not circumstance. Today, students are more focused, more disciplined, and more confident. Their academic performance has improved, not because they lacked intelligence earlier, but because they finally have continuity, peace, and direction.
Teachers in Kashmir have played a silent yet heroic role in this revival. Teaching under pressure, often with limited resources, they became counselors, mentors, and emotional anchors. Many students needed more than lessons; they needed reassurance that their lives mattered and that their efforts could shape a meaningful future.
Parents, too, made painful sacrifices choosing patience over anger, education over impulsive reactions, and long-term hope over short-term rage. Sending a child to school during uncertain times is an act of courage, and thousands of Kashmiri families showed that courage every single day.
Today, Kashmiri youth are excelling in academics, competitive examinations, entrepreneurship, sports, and creative fields. They are writers, engineers, teachers, doctors, artists, voices of a generation that chose books over bitterness. Their achievements may not always make headlines, but they are quietly rewriting Kashmir’s narrative.
This decade of educational revival is not merely about infrastructure or policy; it is about emotional repair. It is about healing a generation that once felt lost, unheard, and disconnected. It is about transforming pain into purpose. Challenges still remain, and the journey is not yet complete. But one truth stands firm: when education becomes accessible, humane, and continuous, it pulls youth away from the edge and brings them back to themselves.
Kashmir’s real revolution is happening not in slogans, but in classrooms; not in raised fists, but in raised hands asking questions., Not in stones thrown, but in books opened. And in that silent turning of pages, a new Kashmir is being written, one child, one lesson, one dream at time.
Aurhor is Educationist, Poet. She can be mailed at rommykaur099@gmail.com
