Picture a house in Awantipora, Kashmir, on a cold November evening. The kangri glows warmly, kahwa simmers in the samovar, and a packed suitcase stands by the door. The next morning, the eldest son will leave for Delhi to study data science.

His mother, weighed down by thoughts of separation, has hardly slept for a week. His father has taken out a loan he has not disclosed to his relatives. An aunt has already asked, more than once, “Was there nothing for him in Srinagar?”
This scene, far from being confined to one household in Awantipora, plays out in thousands of homes across Kashmir every year. And every year, we ask the wrong question. We ask why our children are leaving when we should be asking what happens to them if they stay back.

What the Numbers Tell Us

The honest answer is difficult to confront. Jammu and Kashmir continues to face a serious youth unemployment challenge.
According to figures cited in media reports from the Periodic Labour Force Survey, urban unemployment among young people aged 15–29 in J&K stood at 32 per cent, compared with 4.3 per cent in Delhi. The reported unemployment rate among young women in J&K was 53.6 per cent, more than double the national average of 21 per cent.
These are not merely statistics. More than 3.5 lakh young people have reportedly registered as unemployed with the Directorate of Employment. Anantnag accounts for over 32,000 registered jobseekers, while Srinagar has nearly 24,000. A substantial proportion of registered unemployed people are graduates and postgraduates.
Think about that. A degree, which our parents once regarded as a guaranteed ticket to a respectable life, no longer guarantees even a job interview.

A Paradise with Too Few Jobs

Kashmir is often described as paradise on earth. For tourists, perhaps. For an engineering graduate searching for employment, however, the Valley offers too few opportunities.
We have limited large-scale industry, a relatively small private sector and few major employers. Tourism, handicrafts and horticulture sustain countless families, but these sectors alone cannot absorb the growing number of educated young people entering the job market.
Consequently, thousands compete for the same limited government vacancies, waiting for recruitment notifications that may take years to translate into employment.
Our universities do valuable work in the sciences, arts and commerce. Yet students seeking advanced education in fields such as artificial intelligence, aerospace, biotechnology, animation and specialised medicine often find more options outside the Valley. This is not a failure of our teachers or students; it reflects a wider institutional and economic gap.
The irony is painful. A young person without a college degree may find a way to earn a living by opening a shop or driving a cab. A PhD scholar, meanwhile, may sit at home, overqualified for some jobs and unable to find employment matching their expertise.

Two Hearts Carry the Burden

When a student leaves Kashmir for education, two sides carry the emotional burden: the one who leaves and the family that stays behind.
The student carries guilt. In our culture, staying close to one's parents is a profound expression of love. Family ties, shared responsibilities and the comfort of being together are among the strongest foundations of Kashmiri life.
Yet there are times when staying is simply not an option. Leaving can then feel like a betrayal, even when it is necessary for a better future.
Young Kashmiris moving to other cities must navigate unfamiliar environments, different languages, financial pressures and, at times, suspicion or prejudice because of their identity. They carry the weight of every rupee spent on their education and the unspoken expectation that failure is not an option. On Eid, when the family gathers around the table, they may be celebrating through a video call from a hostel room.
Their families, meanwhile, contend with debt, anxiety and social scrutiny. Mothers worry whether their children are eating properly. Fathers calculate loan instalments. Relatives ask why the child could not study closer to home and whether the experience will change them.
But staying back also comes at a cost we rarely discuss. Years of waiting for government employment can erode confidence and delay important life decisions. Prolonged unemployment can leave young people frustrated, isolated and emotionally exhausted. Families increasingly witness the psychological toll of uncertainty at their own dinner tables.
An educated but unemployed young person is not simply someone waiting for a job. Often, they are carrying a silent heartbreak that the entire family shares.

Leaving is Not Losing

We need to change the story we tell ourselves. A child who leaves for Delhi, Bengaluru, Pune or another country has not abandoned Kashmir. They are investing in their future—and potentially in ours.
Other communities understood this long ago. Kerala's long history of migration, particularly to the Gulf, has helped connect families with new sources of income, knowledge and opportunity. Migration does not automatically guarantee prosperity, but it can create valuable links between people, places and economies.
Our children, too, can remain deeply Kashmiri wherever they live.
What can they bring back, even if they return only during holidays?
Professional networks that can connect businesses and employers with opportunities in Kashmir.
New skills in industries that are still underdeveloped in the Valley.
Entrepreneurial ideas ranging from IT services and food processing to tourism technology.
Confidence and independence gained by navigating unfamiliar environments.
The goal should not be a one-way journey away from home. It should be a two-way bridge: go, learn, grow and build connections that can benefit Kashmir.
Not every student will return permanently, and that should not be treated as a failure. Those who settle elsewhere can still contribute through investment, mentorship, professional networks and knowledge-sharing.

What Each of Us Can Do

This is not the problem of an individual family. It is a collective challenge requiring a collective response.
Parents must understand that supporting a child's education outside Kashmir is an act of love, not defeat. Stay connected, visit whenever possible and welcome children home without guilt or emotional pressure. Celebrate their achievements and trust their ability to build a future.
Students should remain connected to their families and communities, not only when they need financial help. Kashmiri student groups in other cities can provide mentorship, emotional support and practical guidance to those struggling to adjust. Above all, students should remember the sacrifices that made their journeys possible.
The community must stop the taunts and social comparisons. The next time someone asks, “Couldn't they study here?”, we should recognise that seeking better opportunities is not a rejection of one's homeland. Young people studying outside can mentor others, sharing information about entrance examinations, scholarships, accommodation and career options.
The government and educational institutions must go beyond announcements and create an environment where talent can find meaningful employment. Kashmir needs greater private investment, industry-academia partnerships, stronger research facilities, and support for technology-driven enterprises. Accessible credit, incubation facilities and business support can help returning graduates turn their skills into local opportunities.
Equally important is a transparent system that connects jobseekers with available opportunities and equips young people with skills relevant to emerging industries.
None of this will happen unless families, colleges, employers, investors and the government pull in the same direction.

Keep the Door Open

Let us return to that house in Awantipora. Tomorrow morning, the packed suitcase will leave. The house will feel emptier, and the mother may continue setting an extra place at dinner out of habit.
But four years later, her son may return with a job offer, a business plan or the confidence to build something of his own in Kashmir. He may also choose to establish his life elsewhere while sending home financial support, professional guidance and opportunities for others.
Either way, Kashmir has not necessarily lost him.
A chinar takes decades to grow, and its shade reaches far beyond its roots. Our children are much the same. Their horizons may extend beyond the mountains, but their roots can remain firmly planted in the soil that nurtured them.
Until the Valley can provide the opportunities they deserve, let us not hold them back in the name of love. Let us send them out with our blessings, support their ambitions and keep the door of home open for their return.
They are not deserters. They are pioneers, carrying Kashmir's hopes wherever life takes them.

Email:--------------------------syeddnaseer@gmail.com