The government has often spoken at length about the dignified return of Kashmiri Pandits to the valley, presenting it as a moral, social, and political responsibility. However, the harsh ground reality paints a very different picture. Even the limited attempt to rehabilitate a fraction of the displaced population—specifically the 5500 employees under the Prime Minister’s special employment package—has fallen far short of expectations. This scheme, envisioned as a beacon of hope for the return and rehabilitation of displaced Kashmiri Pandits, has instead turned into what many describe as a punishment package. Rather than offering stability, safety, and dignity, it has resulted in separation, alienation, and ongoing insecurity for the employees and their families. Under the terms of the package, the employees are required to work in the Kashmir Valley while most of their families continue to live in Jammu. This geographical and emotional separation has become one of the most significant sources of distress for these employees. Far from being settled in secure, government-provided accommodation, a majority are forced to live in rented houses scattered across the valley, often without any security cover. In a region where targeted killings of minority community members still occur and security threats remain high, this lack of safety measures makes them extremely vulnerable. These employees, being easily identifiable and isolated in many areas, become soft targets for militants.

The recent attack in Pahalgam targeting Hindu tourists has intensified the atmosphere of fear among the PM package employees. Incidents like this reinforce the perception that the valley remains unsafe for members of the minority Hindu community, and that the government’s assurances of security and protection often fail to translate into reality. For the employees, each such attack is not just a news headline but a reminder of their own precarious position, making day-to-day life filled with anxiety and uncertainty. In theory, the government has been working on providing secure transit accommodations for these employees at various locations such as Chowgam, Mirhama in Kulgam, Anantnag, and Zeewan. In practice, however, the progress has been dismal. Allotments may have been made on paper months ago, but the actual handover of possession to the employees has yet to take place. Even the most basic infrastructure at these sites is incomplete. Boundary walls—which are essential for security—remain unbuilt, leaving the premises exposed and unsafe. The link roads that connect these accommodations to the main roads are in poor condition, riddled with potholes, and in dire need of macadamization. Interior roads within the complexes are equally neglected, making movement difficult and unsafe, particularly during adverse weather conditions.
The very locations of these accommodations raise additional concerns. Most of them are situated on the outskirts of towns, far from tehsil headquarters and in mountainous terrain. While such locations may be easier for land acquisition, they are far from ideal when it comes to accessibility, emergency response, and integration with local communities. Their remoteness makes them more vulnerable to security threats and hinders the delivery of basic services. Furthermore, the lack of amenities -such as proper lighting, water supply, drainage systems, and healthcare facilities - makes these accommodations unsuitable for immediate habitation. The repeated assurances from the government about speeding up construction and ensuring the safety of these employees often seem more like public relations exercises than genuine attempts to solve the problem. Meetings are held, deadlines are announced, and promises are made, yet the ground reality remains unchanged. The slow pace of work, bureaucratic delays, and lack of accountability mean that months and in some cases years - pass without substantial progress. Employees continue to live in rented rooms under constant fear, waiting for the day they can move into secure housing that was promised long ago.
This failure raises a deeper question about the broader idea of bringing back the displaced Kashmiri Pandit community. If the government cannot successfully rehabilitate 5500 employees—people who have returned under a structured, state-supported scheme—then how realistic is the promise of resettling nearly five lakh displaced Kashmiri Pandits? Rehabilitation is not just about providing jobs; it is about creating an environment where people can live with dignity, security, and access to essential services. In the absence of such an environment, the promise of a dignified return remains hollow. The separation between these employees and their families also has long-term social and psychological impacts. Many of them are young parents who see their children growing up in Jammu without their daily presence. Spouses are forced to live apart for months on end, putting a strain on family life and mental health. This arrangement, which was supposed to be temporary, has now persisted for years, eroding trust in the government’s ability to follow through on its commitments. The employees’ sense of alienation from both their home in Jammu and their place of work in Kashmir deepens with each passing day.
The lack of urgency in completing the pending works also reflects poorly on the coordination between various departments and the seriousness with which the issue is being addressed. Simple measures such as completing boundary walls, ensuring road connectivity, installing street lighting, and providing basic amenities do not require massive resources or complex planning. They require commitment, prioritization, and efficient execution—all of which seem to be in short supply. For the government, this is more than just an administrative challenge - it is a test of credibility. The way it handles the rehabilitation of these 5500 PM package employees will be seen as a litmus test for its larger claims of being committed to the return of the Kashmiri Pandit community. If the smaller, manageable task is left incomplete, the larger mission will be viewed with skepticism, not just by the displaced community but by the wider public. The path forward requires more than words and symbolic gestures. It requires the government to treat this as an urgent humanitarian issue rather than a public relations opportunity. All pending construction work at transit accommodations must be completed without further delay, with proper security arrangements put in place. Roads must be repaired and made safe, amenities must be provided, and the locations must be made accessible and connected. Only by addressing these practical and immediate needs can the government hope to restore the confidence of the employees and demonstrate genuine commitment to the cause of Kashmiri Pandit rehabilitation. Until such steps are taken, the PM package will continue to be seen not as a return and rehabilitation scheme, but as a package of separation, insecurity, and unfulfilled promises. The employees who came to the valley under this scheme deserve better than to be caught in a cycle of bureaucratic delays, unsafe living conditions, and emotional hardship. Their experience should serve as a wake-up call for policymakers: rehabilitation is not achieved through speeches and meetings—it is achieved through concrete action, timely delivery, and genuine concern for the people whose lives are directly affected.

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