In the valleys of Kashmir, where dreams rise as naturally as the mist over the mountains, the death of merit has become one of the most silent yet most profound tragedies of our time. The promise of education has long been a fragile lifeline for Kashmiri youth, who, despite economic instability, and social turbulence, have clung to the hope that hard work and talent would be enough to carve out a dignified future. Yet, in the wake of competitive examinations like NEET and other national entrance tests, this hope is increasingly being smothered under the weight of systemic failure.

The very essence of meritocracy that an individual’s effort and ability alone should determine success appears to be bleeding away, leaving behind despair and disillusionment. For students in Kashmir, the NEET examination is not merely a test of physics, chemistry and biology; it is a test of endurance, patience, and resilience. It represents years of preparation, often under the most difficult circumstances, limited access to quality coaching, and an environment fraught with low economy. Despite these barriers, Kashmiri students continue to compete nationally, driven by the dream of becoming doctors and serving society. But when this already narrow path is made narrower by policy imbalances, the burden becomes unbearable.
The NEET examination, originally introduced to ensure fairness and uniformity, has itself become a mirror reflecting both the aspirations and the betrayals of an entire generation. Across India, the exam has been marred by allegations of irregularities. For Kashmir, a region with fewer opportunities and disproportionate struggles, these lapses are not mere administrative errors but existential blows. When a student from Kulgam or Kupwara spends years of youth in rigorous preparation only to find that leaked papers or manipulated results can outshine years of effort, the result is not only personal despair but a collective disillusionment.
The latest NEET-UG 2025 cutoffs have made these inequalities even starker. According to official figures, the qualifying range for the general category is 144 to 686 marks, while for OBC, SC, and ST categories it is as low as 113 to 143. In practice, government medical college admissions demand far higher marks: general category aspirants often need 600 or above, while reserved category students can secure seats with scores even under 400. The result is paradoxical a boy with 530 marks may still be denied admission, while another with 335 finds doors open. These disparities, though historically defended in the name of social justice and representation, strike directly at the morale of hardworking Kashmiri aspirants. They question the very foundation of fairness and leave many asking whether diligence, talent, and sleepless nights hold any value at all. The social consequences of this erosion of merit are immense.
First, it breeds cynicism. A young student who believes that his or her honest hard work has no value is a student whose trust in society weakens. Second, it encourages shortcuts. If honesty is punished and manipulation rewarded, why would future generations cling to integrity? Third, it fuels brain drain. Many of Kashmir’s brightest minds, suffocated by systemic failures, seek opportunities abroad where they feel their merit will be judged fairly. Each such departure is not only a personal choice but a collective loss to the valley. This silent execution of merit also adds to the psychological burdens already carried by Kashmiri youth. Parents mortgage their hopes and often their finances for their children’s education, spending on coaching centres and private tutors, only to be left wondering whether the system will ever be fair. Students, too, often suffer from anxiety, depression, and burnout, not merely from the rigor of study but from the fear that the system is tilted against them. In a place where opportunities are already scarce, the killing of merit is not just an educational injustice but a societal wound.
Yet, the death of merit in Kashmir is not inevitable. It is a crisis that can be addressed if there is political will, administrative honesty, and societal consensus. The first step must be to secure examinations themselves. Digital question bank systems, strict penalties for leaks, and independent monitoring can restore faith in fairness. Transparency in admissions, where every seat is accounted for publicly, can prevent manipulation. At the same time, Kashmir’s unique challenges must be acknowledged. Students here deserve uninterrupted digital infrastructure, access to online resources equal to those available in metropolitan cities, and targeted scholarship programs that recognize resilience alongside talent. It is equally important to rethink reservation and representation in a manner that does not brutally wound merit. Social justice is a noble aim, but if pursued at the cost of destroying talent and excellence, it risks weakening the very society it intends to uplift. A balanced approach one that offers support to the disadvantaged without penalizing the deserving can help reconcile the demands of equality with the imperatives of meritocracy. Ultimately, resurrecting merit is not merely about adjusting cutoffs or reforming exam systems; it is about restoring faith in fairness itself. For Kashmiri youth, who have long lived amidst disruption, the assurance that their sweat will not be in vain is as vital as bread and air. Without it, despair will deepen, talent will flee, and the valley will echo with the silence of wasted potential.
The death of merit is more than the failure of an examination system it is the betrayal of a generation. It denies justice to the diligent, rewards mediocrity wrapped in privilege, and corrodes the foundations of trust. For Kashmir, allowing this slow execution of merit to continue unchecked would be nothing short of another tragedy layered upon many. If the pen is to remain mightier than the sword, if dreams are to remain stronger than despair, then merit must not only be protected but celebrated. Otherwise, the valleys that once inspired poets and nurtured saints will speak only in the quiet sorrow of broken aspirations.

Emai;-------------------umairulumar77@gmail.com