By Syeda AB Jan
Children’s Day in India is meant to be a celebration of hope and joy, a tribute to the dreams of our nation’s youth. But in Kashmir, November 14 brings a painful reminder of lives marked by loss and survival. Once aligned with Universal Children’s Day, India shifted its observance to this date in 1964 to honor Jawaharlal Nehru—’Chacha Nehru,’ beloved by children across the nation. Yet in Kashmir, where generations have grown up in the shadows of violence and uncertainty, one wonders how many children truly feel secure enough to dream as Nehru envisioned.
For children here, joy is often elusive. Nehru dreamed of a world where young lives were free from fear and nurtured by peace, a place where every child could chase their future with open hearts. Instead, for many Kashmiri children, life has been marked by sorrow, defined by loved ones who never came home, mothers and fathers lost to blasts and violence, and siblings taken by sudden tragedy. It feels as if Nehru’s vision is not just unfulfilled but lost.
Trapped Before They Begin: The Fate of Kashmir’s Children
In Kashmir, children are born into a world where survival is a daily challenge. This land has become a place where even a woman like Abida—a mother of three—lost her life in a recent blast, leaving her children to a future filled with hardship and grief. Abida’s story is not isolated; countless others like her have left behind grieving families, broken homes, and children who bear an unthinkable burden of loss. These children, robbed of their mothers’ love and fathers’ protection, carry invisible scars as they grow up in a world that often feels devoid of safety or hope.
For girls, the risks begin early. With societal pressures and gender-based violence threatening them, their lives are often shaped by the challenges they were born into. Just leaving home to attend school can be fraught with danger, a risk too many cannot afford. And even in their own homes, young girls and boys alike face struggles that go beyond what anyone should endure.
The Shadows in Safe Spaces
For Kashmiri children, “home” can be a paradox. In families fractured by loss and grief, children may face neglect and exploitation, not always receiving the support they need. The pain left behind by those lost to violence is compounded by the economic burdens on households, where the absence of loved ones leaves voids both emotional and financial.
Too many children are forced into labor to keep their families afloat. Instead of learning in classrooms, they find themselves working in fields, construction sites, or even in dangerous mines, exposed to hardships that steal their childhoods. They become breadwinners instead of school-goers, surviving not as children but as caretakers of shattered families, bearing responsibilities far beyond their years.
Education: A Stolen Dream
Education, meant to be a right, remains a distant dream for many Kashmiri children. Schools, where they exist, are often underfunded and overlooked. Many children find it impossible to focus on studies amid the harsh realities of life in conflict-ridden areas, and countless others are unable to attend school at all. The sight of school buildings, often empty or used for military purposes, serves as a reminder of missed opportunities.
Even in times of calm, economic constraints make it hard for many families to afford education. For children like Abida’s, education seems like a promise too far from reach. These young ones are denied not just classrooms but the hope that comes from having a future to aspire to, forced to abandon dreams before they have even begun to understand what dreaming means.
Mental Health: The Hidden Scars
The emotional toll on young minds is profound. Loss, fear, and trauma form a part of everyday life. Growing up surrounded by violence, many children experience psychological wounds that go unnoticed and untreated. Mental health support is nearly nonexistent in these regions, leaving children to cope alone with anxiety, depression, and post-traumatic stress that can haunt them for a lifetime.
For Abida’s children, the grief of losing their mother will shape their world in ways that no one can fully understand. With a void that love alone cannot fill, these children must navigate a world that has taken their mother from them, leaving them with memories of her love but little else to hold onto.
A Digital Divide in an Era of Connection
While technology connects much of the world, it remains largely inaccessible to Kashmir’s children. The so-called “digital India” revolution has left these children behind, adding another layer of disparity. With limited internet access and restrictions, they are deprived of online resources that could bridge educational gaps and offer some semblance of a normal childhood. Instead of digital classrooms, they face days marked by curfews and limited mobility, forced to live disconnected from opportunities that might help them imagine a better life.
Unfulfilled Promises
Each Children’s Day brings new promises and statements from leaders. But for Kashmiri children, these words feel empty. Programs like the Right to Education and Beti Bachao Beti Padhao exist on paper, but in practice, they feel like distant dreams in places where the priority is survival, not self-fulfillment. For every image of a happy child on a Children’s Day poster, there are countless others who live in silence and shadows, their stories untold and their dreams unacknowledged.
Towards Real Change
If Children’s Day is to have meaning in Kashmir, it must go beyond promises and speeches. Real change would mean building a society where children can grow up safe, nurtured, and supported. It would mean constructing a world where children like Abida’s can find hope rather than inheriting hardship. To truly celebrate Children’s Day, we must create conditions where parents are not lost to violence, where children can attend school without fear, and where families are supported rather than shattered.
Our children deserve more than words. They deserve a life free from fear, a chance to learn, to laugh, and to dream. If we cannot give them that, then each November 14 serves only as a painful reminder of promises unkept and futures stolen. For as long as we fail them, Children’s Day will remain not a celebration, but a solemn reminder of our nation’s unfinished duty to its youngest and most vulnerable.
