There was a time in Kashmir when a woman’s presence in a government office came with quiet judgement. If she was seen visiting too often, people would talk. Questions would be asked, not about the system, but about her. There was an unspoken belief that a “respectable” woman did not linger in public offices, did not argue over paperwork, did not chase officials for what was hers. For many women, this wasn’t just social pressure, it shaped their choices. They avoided offices unless absolutely necessary. They depended on others to get things done. And sometimes, they simply let things go. That world has not vanished overnight, but it has undeniably begun to change.

Today, the scene across Jammu and Kashmir tells a very different story. Walk into an Aadhaar centre, a CSC, a tehsil office, or a bank, and you’ll see women everywhere, waiting in line, holding documents, asking questions, guiding each other. There is a sense of movement, of purpose. No one is looking over their shoulder anymore. They are there because they need to be and because they can be. This shift didn’t come from speeches or slogans. It came quietly, through systems that started working differently.
For a long time, dealing with government processes meant uncertainty. Files moved slowly, and no one really knew where things were stuck. Women, especially, felt this more deeply. Going from one desk to another, asking for updates, dealing with indifferent or sometimes harsh responses, it wasn’t just tiring, it was uncomfortable. In many cases, it made them feel exposed and vulnerable. There are stories that still stay with me. “I remember a woman in a public service role telling me one day that collecting her small salary sometimes came at the cost of her dignity, a reminder of how systems, when not transparent, can fail even their own.” That is what opacity looked like.
Now, something fundamental is shifting. With systems like Direct Benefit Transfer, money doesn’t come through layers of people anymore, it comes directly into a woman’s bank account. That may sound like a technical reform, but for her, it changes everything. It means she doesn’t have to ask, follow up, or depend on someone else. It is hers, and it reaches her. And that simple act receiving money directly builds a quiet confidence. The rise in women opening bank accounts is not just a statistic; it’s a reflection of this change. Earlier, many women didn’t see the point, or weren’t encouraged to. Today, families themselves are pushing for it. There’s an understanding now: without a bank account, you are left out. I recently met a woman at a bank seeking help to open her first account. She told me that earlier, her family had discouraged it, believing it wasn’t appropriate. But now, with her daughter’s scholarship dependent on a bank account, she had no choice but to step forward. That moment reflected a quiet but powerful shift where necessity is reshaping long-held attitudes.
Technology has played a big role in this transformation. Work that once required multiple visits can now be tracked online. Applications can be checked. Complaints can be filed. There is a record of everything. Platforms like BEAMS and JKPaySys may operate in the background, but what they’ve really done is reduce the mystery around how things work. And when there is less mystery, there is less fear. Women don’t have to keep going back to offices just to check if something has moved. They don’t have to rely on someone to get things done. The system itself is becoming more answerable.
Even pensions, which earlier often involved middlemen or repeated visits, are now reaching people directly, with digital systems ensuring continuity. For many elderly women, this has meant not having to depend on others for something that is rightfully theirs. But perhaps the most interesting part of this change is how it has affected society itself.
People often say that changing mindsets takes generations. That may be true in many cases. But sometimes, when systems change, people adapt faster than expected. In Kashmir, you can see this happening. Families that once hesitated are now visiting and accessing CSCs to apply for scholarships, to banks to open accounts, to offices to complete formalities. The hesitation hasn’t been debated away it has simply been outpaced. The rush you see today at these centres is not just about services. It’s about acceptance. It’s about women being seen in spaces where they were once questioned.
Of course, challenges remain. Not everyone is digitally literate. Not every area has equal access. And social attitudes don’t disappear completely, they soften, slowly. When systems become transparent, they do more than improve efficiency, they restore dignity. A woman who can track her own file, who can see where her application stands, who knows that her payment will come directly to her, walks differently. She speaks differently. She no longer feels like she is asking for a favour. She knows she is claiming a right and that is a powerful shift.
What stands out in all of this is how quietly it has happened. There were no dramatic announcements about changing the lives of women in public spaces. Yet, through careful, structured reforms, that is exactly what has begun to unfold. Today, the same spaces that once felt intimidating are becoming familiar. The same processes that once felt exhausting are becoming manageable. And the same women who were once hesitant are now showing up with documents in hand and confidence in their step. It’s not just a story of digital reform. It’s a story of dignity returning, one system at a time and J&K has become first UT in country to operationalise PFMS at district levels.

Email:---------------------darakshanhassanbhat@gmail.com