The silence of Kashmiri youth is not emptiness. It is full of questions, of waiting, of fragile but stubborn hope. If we listen closely, we may hear what it has been trying to tell us all along: that a generation cannot survive forever on patience alone.

In Kashmir, silence is not always empty. Sometimes it is crowded with thoughts left unsaid, dreams postponed, and grief that has learned to sit quietly in the corner of the room. This silence walks beside the young every day, follows them to classrooms and job interviews, and waits for them at night when the world finally grows still. Kashmiri youth have inherited a life shaped by interruptions. Their memories are stitched together with school closures, uncertain calendars, and the constant need to adapt. Childhood here did not unfold in straight lines; it bent often, paused frequently, and resumed cautiously. Over time, resilience became a habit, not a choice. And habits, when lived too long, begin to feel like destiny.
They studied with hope, because hope was the one thing they could still afford. Degrees were earned against odds, in dimly lit rooms during long power cuts, through borrowed notes and delayed examinations. Education was not merely a pursuit of knowledge hit was an act of faith. Faith that somewhere beyond the valley’s constraints, there would be space for their abilities to breathe. But the world they stepped into was narrower than the one they imagined. Jobs were few, opportunities scarce, and competition relentless. Rejection letters when they came at all were silent verdicts. For many, unemployment became a lingering presence, sitting beside them at family gatherings, hovering over conversations, measuring their worth in unanswered applications. In a society where identity is closely tied to contribution, not earning feels like disappearing slowly.
Families feel it too. Parents watch their children wait years passing, ambitions thinning, confidence dimming. Advice is offered with love, but often without understanding. “Have patience,” they say, not realising how heavy patience becomes when it stretches endlessly. The young nod, because explaining exhaustion is harder than enduring it. The absence of meaningful work does not merely empty pockets; it erodes purpose. When days stretch without structure and effort goes unrewarded, restlessness sets in. It is in this vacuum that screens begin to fill the space left by opportunity. Social media, once a tool for connection, has increasingly become a substitute for validation, livelihood, and hope. It becomes a window and a mirror showing lives that seem faster, smoother, more complete. Smiles scroll past effortlessly: promotions, travels, celebrations. The comparisons are unintentional, yet cruel. For a young person already questioning their worth, these images do not inspire they isolate. They create a loneliness that exists even in crowded rooms
A growing number of young people now turn to digital platforms in search of recognition and relevance. They chase visibility because visibility feels like existence. With few formal career paths available, social media begins to look like an open door one that promises reach without gatekeepers and fame without credentials. In this pursuit, boundaries blur. Content becomes louder, riskier, and at times deeply fragile due to prolonged uncertainty, weakens further.
Parallel to this digital drift runs another quiet crisis: debt. Easy access to loans, credit schemes, and informal borrowing has drawn many young people into financial traps. With limited income prospects, borrowing becomes a means of survival rather than growth. Monthly instalments pile up without corresponding earnings. The burden is not just financial it is psychological. Debt carries shame, fear, and the constant anxiety of falling short. In extreme cases, it pushes individuals toward unsafe online ventures, fraudulent schemes, and exploitative digital spaces that promise quick returns but deliver loss.
misaligned with cultural and social expectations. Not because values are absent, but because desperation is present. This phenomenon should not be viewed merely as a moral shift or generational rebellion. It is, at its core, an economic and emotional response to exclusion. When institutions fail to absorb talent, individuals seek alternative economies of attention. When effort in real life goes unnoticed, digital applause becomes seductive But fame is fragile, and algorithms are unforgiving. For every viral success story, there are thousands who remain unseen, trapped in cycles of comparison and self-doubt. What begins as an attempt to connect often ends in deeper isolation. The pressure to perform online intensifies anxiety, distorts self-image, and creates a relentless need for validation. Emotional stability, already
Educational institutions, which should serve as anchors during such transitions, often fall short. Colleges and universities in Kashmir largely function as degree-distribution centres, offering little in the way of career guidance, mental health support, or skill-based mentorship. Students graduate with qualifications but without direction. There are few counselling systems, limited industry linkages, and almost no structured support to help young people navigate life beyond campus.
Some young individuals, unable to cope with prolonged stress and disappointment, fall prey to substance abuse. Others are drawn into online frauds, illegal digital activities, or exploitative networks that capitalise on desperation. These are not isolated moral failures they are symptoms of systemic neglect. When emotional support is absent and hope feels distant, escape becomes tempting. Mental health, in this landscape, becomes a silent casualty. Anxiety hides behind productivity. Depression is mistaken for laziness. Emotional exhaustion is dismissed as a lack of faith or will. Many suffer quietly because they do not have the language to name what they are feeling, or the permission to speak it aloud. Seeking help still carries stigma, as if pain must first become unbearable to be considered real.
Yet, despite these challenges, Kashmiri youth continue to persist. Their resilience is visible not in grand achievements but in daily survival in continuing to apply, to create, to hope. They are not disengaged; they are searching. Searching for relevance, dignity, and a place where effort meets opportunity. What is urgently needed is not cosmetic solutions or motivational rhetoric. The crisis demands structural change. Employment generation must be prioritised not just in policy documents but in implementation. Educational institutions must evolve into support ecosystems that include career counselling, skill development, and mental health services. Digital literacy must be paired with emotional literacy, helping young people navigate online spaces without losing themselves within them. Most importantly, society must listen without judgment, without nostalgia, and without dismissal. Kashmiri youth are not asking for sympathy; they are asking for pathways. They are not rejecting tradition; they are reacting to stagnation. The silence surrounding them is not emptiness. It is a warning. And if it continues to be ignored, it risks turning into something far more dangerous than noise: resignation. A generation cannot be sustained on patience alone. It needs opportunity, understanding, and the assurance that its future is not confined to screens, debts, or survival but open, dignified, and real.

Email:------------------umairrehmankhanday77@gmail.com