By: Arshid Qalmi
In the quiet corners of the picturesque valley of Kashmir, where snow-clad mountains whisper stories of resilience and beauty, a silent epidemic is unfolding—an epidemic of expectations, anxiety, and despair. At the heart of it lies a deeply entrenched societal obsession: grades.
For decades, academic performance has been considered the ultimate measure of a student’s worth in Kashmir. A “good student” is often one who scores above 90%, secures a top rank, or clears competitive exams like NEET or JEE. This tunnel-visioned definition, rooted in rigid cultural ideals and economic insecurities, has turned the pursuit of education from a joyful process of growth into a ruthless race for perfection. Tragically, it has come at a cost that society can no longer afford to ignore—the mental well-being, identity, and in many cases, the lives of our children.
The Roots of the Pressure: Culture, Comparison, and Conformity
In many Kashmiri households, the mention of a child’s report card determines the tone of dinner conversations, family gatherings, and even their future matrimonial prospects. Parents, often driven by love but misguided by fear, equate academic success with social respect, stability, and upward mobility—especially in a region marred by political uncertainty and limited job opportunities. This cultural conditioning creates an environment where failure is not seen as a stepping stone, but as a stigma.
What amplifies this stress is comparison—a toxic by-product of a grade-centric culture. Students are frequently pitted against their siblings, neighbors, or classmates. “If he can do it, why can’t you?” becomes a daily taunt rather than a motivational phrase. In this climate, even a student scoring 89% can feel like a failure because someone else scored 92%.
Mental Health Toll: The Quiet Cry for Help
The mental health implications are grave. Clinical psychologists across Kashmir report alarming rates of anxiety, depression, sleep disorders, self-harm, and exam phobia among students—some as young as 11. A growing number of teenagers are prescribed psychiatric medication simply to help them cope with the pressure to perform. In schools, counselors often face cases of children who show physical symptoms—headaches, vomiting, panic attacks—just before exam time.
Worse, in recent years, Kashmir has seen heart-wrenching instances of student suicides linked directly to poor academic performance. For these young minds, the inability to meet unrealistic expectations becomes a reason to question their self-worth, dignity, and even their right to live.
This is not just a personal tragedy—it is a societal failure.
The Role of Schools and Educators
Sadly, schools are not always safe spaces in this narrative. Many institutions, despite claiming holistic education, continue to reward only the top scorers, display toppers’ names on walls, and treat average students as liabilities. Teachers, under pressure from school boards and parents alike, sometimes unintentionally reinforce harmful narratives by ridiculing low performers or overlooking their talents in non-academic domains.
There is also a glaring absence of trained school counselors across the education system in Kashmir. While NEP 2020 emphasizes mental health and emotional well-being, implementation remains far from reality in most government and private schools.
Shifting the Narrative: From Performance to Potential
The solution does not lie in demonizing exams or academics but in redefining what success means. Students are not machines built for mark sheets; they are individuals with unique strengths, passions, and learning curves. A child passionate about poetry, photography, carpentry, coding, or football must be seen as no less than a future doctor or engineer.
Parents need to be educated, not just about how to help their children score better, but about how to support them unconditionally—especially when they score less. Schools must train teachers in emotional intelligence and create safe, inclusive spaces for dialogue, empathy, and failure. Mental health must be integrated into the curriculum—not as a subject, but as a culture.
Above all, as a society, we must ask ourselves: Are we raising achievers or happy, self-aware human beings?
Conclusion: The Marks We Leave Behind
In the end, what will matter more? A child’s board result or their ability to navigate life with confidence and compassion? Let us not measure our children with numbers alone. Let us listen to their silences, understand their fears, and celebrate their journeys—whether they top the class or not.
Because the greatest tragedy is not when a student fails an exam. It is when a child begins to believe they are a failure.
