Some successes are glorified, while others go unrecognized. Every society creates an invisible hierarchy. Some professions, lifestyles, personalities, incomes, or achievements are celebrated, while others are ignored or even looked down upon. A KAS/IAS officer may be admired more than a poet or author, a doctor more than a school counselor, a wealthy businessperson more than a thoughtful but ordinary teacher. These judgments are not universal truths; nevertheless, they reflect collective mentality and social constructions shaped by economics, culture, power, and history. Kashmiri society, shaped by a long history of political uncertainty and shifting centers of authority, has developed a tendency to glorify power. Perhaps, given the realities around us, that is understandable.
For example, these days, many tourist and picnic spots in Kashmir have restricted access. While visiting one such place, I noticed that a few cars were being allowed beyond the restricted area. When I asked why those vehicles were permitted while ours was not, I was told, “They belong to the family of a Deputy Superintendent of Police.” That was enough. They were considered special.
Once, I attended a conference organized by an NGO, where the Director of School Education was also invited. During the event, he shared a story where he compared himself with a friend who ended up becoming a teacher, claiming himself to be more successful because he had qualified the KAS exam. Ironically, he was addressing students in front of their teachers.
On a panel in a webinar on career guidance, we had a KAS officer, an aviation aspirant, and a nurse, among others. None was a teacher or entrepreneur or a poet etc., in addition, the webinar never discussed these professions.
The head of a school told me that once they had a meeting with the Deputy Commissioner (IAS officer). In the meeting, a teacher tried to explain something in English, however, he was ridiculed by the officer, saying that, he knew the level of teachers’ English. Seems like he never needed a teacher and was born an IAS officer
In the movie 12th Fail, had Manoj not made it to the IAS and had he continued with his jugaad (kind of transport service) while still making extraordinary progress in his transport business, would an inspiring movie still be made on him? Why does nobody consider Gauri Bhaiya (other character), the hero? Despite the capability and sacrificing almost everything, he was not able to qualify the UPSC exam; however, he not only guided other aspirants but also helped Manoj? Now take a real life example, the Indian cricketer Sarfaraz Khan, despite his immense talent, hard work, and success in domestic cricket, he was long ignored for national selection.
So, what is there for those who are not able to get socially valued careers? Some lecture that one should be able to handle failures in life. Perhaps it takes a heart as vast as an ocean, or maybe small, but as high in spirit as a mountain, to deal with failures.
Therefore, for those who are not able to succeed the way society defines it, the struggle seems eternal. Particularly their struggle for identity. Their struggle becomes not merely “How do I earn a living?” but “Who am I?” and “How do I justify my existence to myself and others?”
Philosophers such as Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, and Frankl have argued that meaning cannot ultimately rest on external validation because external validation is unstable. If identity depends entirely on success, then even the successful remain vulnerable because there is always a higher rank, a greater achievement, or the fear of losing what has been gained.
The problem is that such philosophical insight does not immediately remove the pain of a person who has failed, in the way society defines failure. A person who has invested years preparing for an examination and does not succeed cannot simply be consoled by philosophical quotations. The grief is real because something valuable was pursued and lost. There is disappointment, envy, self-doubt, and a sense of being left behind while others move forward. In the Bollywood movie 3 Idiots, there is a dialogue: “It feels sad if your friend fails, but it feels terrible if your friend tops the list.” Even though it is intended to be funny, it reflects the reality that we live in comparison with others, and it may also very difficult to rise above such comparisons.
Such thoughts may touch upon the deepest tensions in human life: the conflict between social approval and personal meaning. But the important question is: who defines success? Society or the individual? Most societies say they value freedom, individuality, and dreams. Yet in practice, they often reward conformity. The freedom to dream is admired only when the dream succeeds. The freedom to fail is rarely celebrated.
That does not mean society is completely wrong. Social recognition matters because humans are social beings. We need belonging, respect, and economic survival. Problem is when success and social validation becomes the only measure of worth.
So the lost freedom needs to be reclaimed, one that is independent of social validation. The freedom to experiment, the freedom to redefine success, and yes, even the freedom to fail without losing one’s worth.
Perhaps the first step is not to eliminate the pain of failure but to acknowledge it honestly. Failure to achieve a cherished goal is a genuine loss. It deserves mourning rather than immediate philosophical correction. One can remind himself that perhaps success also is fluid and not static, and as the saying goes, failures are the pillars of success.
The second step can be to recognize that society’s definition of success and failure is narrower than reality. A person may be a teacher who changes lives, a parent who raises good children, a researcher who contributes knowledge, a counselor who reduces suffering, a laborer who earns an honest living or simply a decent human being who acts with integrity; all can be considered as successful. These identities often receive less applause, but are never inferior.
The deepest existential challenge is to move from the question: “Who am I if I don’t achieve what society admires?” to “Who am I independent of society’s applause?” That transition is neither quick nor easy. Nevertheless, the struggle gradually changes. Instead of struggling to prove one’s worth, one begins struggling to express one’s worth. That is a different kind of struggle, still difficult, but less dependent on the judgments of others. In that sense, the way forward is not the denial of ambition, nor the abandonment of effort. It is learning to hold two truths simultaneously: that it is natural to feel pain when an important goal is not achieved, and that one’s value as a human being is larger than any examination, job title, or social recognition.
Thus, for those who may perceive themselves as “losers,” remember the old saying: “Success is not final, failure is not fatal; it is the courage to continue that counts.” After all, worldly victories and defeats are temporary. At the end of the game, kings and pawns are placed in the same box.