“The Great Queue Trap” Kashmir’s Youth and the Mirage of Government Jobs

 “The Great Queue Trap”

 Kashmir’s Youth and the Mirage of Government Jobs

"In a land rich with talent and dreams, it’s a tragedy to see brilliant minds trapped in endless queues for government jobs, when they were meant to lead, innovate, and rise beyond the limits"

Peerzada Mohsin Shafi

In the heart of Kashmir, a land blessed with natural beauty, intellect and resilience, a silent crisis is quietly unfolding. It doesn’t dominate news debates nor find space in policy briefings, yet it affects tens of thousands of lives, quietly draining the potential of an entire generation. This crisis is not insurgency nor unemployment in the conventional sense. It is an overwhelming and dangerous obsession with government jobs, an obsession that has become a psychological trap for Kashmiri youth, holding them back from the vast and evolving world of opportunities that await beyond this narrow tunnel.

From adolescence to adulthood, young Kashmiris have been conditioned to believe that success begins and ends with securing a government job. Whether it is a clerk, a police constable, a teacher or a civil servant any “sarkari naukri” is hailed as the ultimate achievement. In almost every household, someone is either preparing for JKSSB, JKPSC, UPSC or waiting endlessly for recruitment notifications. Government exams are treated with reverence and those who crack them are celebrated like heroes. But what we often ignore is the dark underside of this celebration, the thousands who don’t make it, the years they lose, and the confidence they slowly bleed away.

Simple mathematics paints a grim picture. For every 100 government posts announced, 10,000 or more applicants apply. That’s a 1% success rate at best. In some cases, it’s 1:500 or even worse. Yet thousands continue to pour their hopes, time and family savings into this race, year after year. What happens to the remaining 9,900 aspirants who don’t make it? Do they quietly disappear? Do they try again until they cross the age limit? Or do they continue to live in uncertainty, unprepared for alternatives, crushed under the weight of unfulfilled dreams? Tragically, for many, that is exactly the story.

This is not just a career issue but it is a social and emotional tragedy. Precious years are spent chasing a mirage, while opportunities to learn skills, earn a livelihood, or explore passions are lost. What starts as ambition soon becomes stagnation. The government job obsession, glorified as a dream, becomes a comfort zone that breeds complacency and fear of failure. Instead of creating innovators, entrepreneurs, or skilled professionals, we are raising generations of waiters who are waiting for notifications, waiting for exams, waiting for results, and ultimately, waiting for life to begin.

Isn’t it an irony that an engineering graduate someone who has studied thermodynamics, structural analysis, and complex algorithms ends up applying for a Class IV post that requires minimum education? This is not merely desperation; it is a systemic collapse of vision. When someone with a professional degree is ready to sweep floors in a government building just to earn a state-backed pay check, it should shake our conscience. It reflects not just lack of jobs, but the absence of aspiration and alternatives. It means we’ve trained our youth to believe that the tag of “government employee,” no matter what the post is more important than dignity of skill, creativity, or innovation.

Why this obsession? For many Kashmiris, a government job offers three things — stability, respect, and security. In a region marred by conflict and political unpredictability, these are understandable desires. A government job guarantees a fixed income, a pension, and a social status that private-sector jobs often lack. But in clinging to this safety net, our youth have unknowingly sacrificed something far greater — growth, creativity, and freedom. While the rest of the world is moving ahead with digital innovation, entrepreneurship, and skill-based economies, a large section of Kashmir's youth remain trapped in a dated aspiration.

Islam offers a clear and liberating perspective. The Holy Qur’an reminds us repeatedly that Rizq (sustenance) comes from Allah — not from a post, a salary, or a job title. In Surah Al-Dhariyat (51:58), Allah says: “Indeed, it is Allah who is the [continual] Provider, the firm possessor of strength.” (Inna Allaha Huwa Ar-Razzaaqu Dhul-Quwwat-il-Mateen)

This verse is not just a theological truth but it is a powerful psychological reset. If we truly believe that Allah is the Provider, then why do we limit our search for Rizq to one door only? Why do we measure success by one career path alone? Rizq can come through honest entrepreneurship, digital skills, creative work, agriculture, consultancy or craftsmanship. The modern world has expanded the ways in which one can earn with dignity. But instead of walking through the many open windows, we are still stuck knocking on one locked door.

With a mobile phone, a laptop, and internet access, youth today can earn from virtually anywhere. Freelancing, graphic design, coding, e-commerce, affiliate marketing, online teaching, content creation these are not futuristic dreams; they are current realities. Across India, young people from small towns are launching YouTube channels, designing apps, becoming influencers, and building companies. Many are earning more than salaried employees without ever filling out a government application form. In contrast, Kashmiri youth equally talented and more resilient are often unaware of or unwilling to embrace these opportunities, largely due to lack of exposure and fear of the unknown.

The cost of this mindset is immense. Years are wasted in coaching centres, preparing for exams that are delayed, cancelled, or never announced. Mental health suffers as failures mount and age bars approach. Financial dependency on parents continues well into the thirties. Even those who finally get selected often find themselves underutilized, stuck in roles that do not match their talents or dreams. They accept the job not because they love the work, but because it’s “government,” and that alone is considered enough.

We need to redefine what career success means. It is not limited to wearing a uniform, signing government files, or retiring with a pension. True success lies in discovering what you love, doing it with excellence, and contributing to society. A successful career could be building a software solution, running a local startup, being a skilled craftsman, growing a business from home, or teaching online. Honest income is noble, regardless of its form. It is time we stopped romanticizing government jobs as the only dignified profession and started respecting people for their innovation, work ethic, and impact.

Change is possible. In fact, it has already begun. There are Kashmiri youth who have broken the mold  who run successful digital ventures, YouTube channels, small-scale businesses, and export services online. But these stories are often treated as exceptions, not inspirations. We need to bring them into the mainstream. Schools, colleges, and community leaders must promote skill development alongside exam preparation. Government should offer startup support, infrastructure, and funding avenues for young entrepreneurs. And most importantly, families must stop forcing children into careers that crush their individuality.

The Qur’an again offers timeless guidance. In Surah Al-Mulk (67:15), Allah says: “It is He who made the earth manageable for you — so traverse through its regions and eat of His provision — and to Him is the resurrection.” This is a divine call to move, to act, and to explore. Waiting endlessly for one outcome contradicts this spirit. Trust in Allah, yes — but tie your camel, learn new skills, and walk new paths. That is the real Tawakkul.

The future of Kashmir lies not in the hands of ten thousand job-seekers chasing a hundred posts, but in the hands of bold youth who choose to carve their own paths — who understand that dignity is not tied to a title, that Rizq comes from effort and prayer, and that every dream is valid if it serves a purpose.

Kashmiri youth are among the most gifted, adaptive, and enduring minds in the country. But talent without vision becomes wasted potential. Let us break free from this cycle of waiting and rejection. Let us nurture a generation that dreams big, works smart, and contributes fearlessly. Let us remind ourselves and our children that Allah has not locked our Rizq in one file inside a government office.

Let’s rise. Let’s build. Let’s believe. And let’s stop knocking on one door when Allah has opened so many windows for us.

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