In Kashmir, One Exam Shouldn't Decide A Life

(MENAFN- Kashmir Observer)
KO File Photo

By Mohammad Arfat Wani

Exam season is more than just a period of study in Kashmir, as in many parts of South Asia. It becomes a storm that swallows entire families. Homes turn quiet. Temples and mosques fill with whispered prayers. Mothers lose sleep. Fathers grow distant. And children begin to question their worth.

Whether it's NEET, JEE, the Civil Services, or board exams, these tests carry a weight far heavier than the marksheet they produce. They don't just judge what you know. They begin to define who you are.

But what happens when a child doesn't clear the test? Often, the result is more than disappointment. It's heartbreak. It's shame. It's silence at the dinner table. In some tragic cases, it becomes something far worse.

According to the World Health Organization, academic failure is the third leading cause of suicide among young people aged 15 to 29. That's not just a statistic. That's hundreds of families, from Kupwara to Kanyakumari, left to mourn a life that didn't need to end.

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We've built a system where scores have become status. A 95% student is a star; an 80% student feels invisible. And the one who doesn't make it through? Society acts like they've failed at life itself.

In Kashmir, where strife and uncertainty already cloud the future, this obsession with academic perfection adds a quiet, invisible trauma. I've seen it in classmates-bright, hardworking students who begin to wither under pressure. I've seen it in my own mirror.

Parents, often with the best intentions, expect excellence. But when love becomes conditional on results, it stops feeling like love. A study shows that three out of four students in our region study not for themselves, but to please their parents. When they stumble, many start believing they're no longer worthy of that love.

We must ask: is our education system really measuring talent? Or is it just rewarding the ability to memorize, perform under pressure, and repeat facts on command?

When exams decide everything-college admissions, job prospects, even marriage proposals-we reduce human potential to a number on a page.

British psychologist Susan Barnett once said exam fear isn't just fear of failure, it's fear of losing your identity. In Kashmir, that rings painfully true. You're either a topper or a tragedy.

But life doesn't follow a syllabus. Edison, Lincoln, and even Musk didn't top every test. And countless children around us carry brilliance that can't be graded: a knack for poetry, a passion for coding, a heart for caregiving. We just don't notice, because our system doesn't look. It's time we did.

The media needs to stop chasing toppers like celebrities. Teachers must care more about understanding minds than ranking them. Parents must let love breathe, even in failure. And society must stop whispering when a child doesn't succeed the first time.

As the WHO puts it, mental health in schools must be a policy, not an afterthought. It's a shared responsibility. And it starts with believing that no exam has the power to define a life.

Jaun Elia wrote, Kuch nahīn ho sakā hamāre sāth, phir bhī ham kitne kāmyāb hain-Nothing ever worked out for us, yet how successful we are.

That's the spirit we must pass on. That success isn't one exam. It's the courage to get up again. To keep going. And to know that even when a door closes, the world is still wide open.

Mohammad Arfat Wani is a medical student and social activist from Kuchmulla Tral.

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