The Backbench Shift Begins In Kashmir

By Shahzaib Al-Qudsi

I grew up thinking classrooms had all the answers I would ever need.

At home, my parents talked about education with the same faith people often give to prayer. The smell of chalk felt like progress, and the morning bell always sounded like a door opening to something bigger.

I held on to these beliefs for a long time, until the system began to feel different.

Slowly, I started noticing how the pressure of marks filled every room I sat in. The walls seemed to echo it.

The change didn't happen all at once. It showed itself slowly. I would sit behind my desk and watch my classmates stare at the blackboard with eyes that had lost their spark. Their faces looked tired, even when they didn't say a word.

Teachers assumed we were distracted. The truth is, we were trying to breathe through a kind of pressure we didn't yet have the words for.

For many students in Kashmir, marks decide whether we feel proud or ashamed. I have watched friends break down because they missed a cutoff by a few points. I have seen families fall into stress after a single mid-term result. In every coaching centre I went to, the fear in the room felt heavier than the books we carried.

The race for marks swallowed our natural desire to learn. We memorised answers like our lives depended on it, and in some ways they did.

The system taught us to treat learning as if it were a survival test.

The NEET 2024 scandal made all of this even clearer to me. When the news of the leaks spread, it felt like a mask had finally dropped. People whispered about bribes and backdoor deals. Many of us felt angry, but under that anger was a kind of understanding.

I knew students who cheated because they thought they had no other choice. Their actions came from panic. The system had pushed them into believing that failure was the end of everything.

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