Peerzada Masarat Shah
The recent uproar in our Jammu and Kashmir Legislative Assembly over the Special Assistance to States for Capital Investment (SASCI) scheme left me feeling deeply unsettled. As someone who has watched our valley struggle through tough times—lost jobs, crumbling roads, families waiting for better days—I hoped the Assembly would be a place for real talk about fixing things. Instead, on February 9, 2026, it turned into shouting and walkouts. PDP MLA Waheed Ur Rehman Para called SASCI a “death trap,” saying it would mortgage our future to big industrialists, like some IMF-style loan that enslaves generations. He even compared it to the troubles in Sri Lanka or Pakistan. His words were loud, emotional, and they stirred the House into pandemonium.
I understand where the fear comes from. We’ve lived through enough pain here—decades of unrest, economic hardship, young people leaving for work elsewhere. When someone stands up in the House and warns of debt and betrayal, it touches something raw inside many of us. But when I looked closer at what SASCI actually is, the claims just didn’t hold water. This isn’t caution based on facts; it’s fear being spread without checking them.
SASCI is a central scheme that began in 2020–21. It offers 50-year interest-free loans strictly for building things that last—roads, bridges, water systems, tourism spots, structures that can stand up to floods and disasters. There is no interest to pay. No private companies pulling strings. No conditions coming from outside the country. You simply repay the main amount slowly over fifty years. It’s made especially for places like ours where money is always tight, so we can create assets that bring jobs and steady growth instead of piling on expensive loans.
Think about the alternative: borrowing from the open market at 7–8 per cent interest—that would squeeze our budgets for decades. Or doing nothing at all, and watching our roads stay broken, our tourism spots fade, and our youth keep leaving for cities far away.
Other states have quietly taken this help and used it well. In 2024–25 alone, the Centre approved 40 tourism projects worth over ₹3,295 crore across 23 states—redeveloping forts in Andhra Pradesh, building rafting facilities in Uttarakhand, creating eco-tourism spots in Kerala, restoring heritage sites in Madhya Pradesh. Different parties, different parts of the country, all building without turning it into a big drama.
For us in Jammu and Kashmir, this matters a lot. We only came under SASCI in 2025–26. The Centre has given us ₹1,431 crore for 222 projects spread across 27 departments—everything from tourism and rural roads to disaster management. Nearly ₹944 crore has already reached us, and more than ₹758 crore is already on the ground—fixing flood-damaged areas after our recent disasters, improving connectivity, creating places that can bring tourists back and give local families steady work.
Our money situation is hard. Debt is around 51 per cent of our total economic output. The gap between what we spend and earn is expected to be about 5.6 per cent this year in some estimates (though recent budgets are trying to bring discipline). Almost 60 per cent of our yearly budget goes just to salaries, pensions, and interest payments. Our own earnings are still weak; we depend heavily on help from the Centre. In this tight spot, saying no to interest-free, long-term money for real building work isn’t careful planning—it’s cutting off our own chance to stand stronger.
Chief Minister Omar Abdullah stood up and defended it firmly. He called it a “big achievement” and a sign that the Centre trusts us to use the money properly. He’s right that walking away would push us toward costlier borrowing or simply staying stuck where we are.
I’m not saying there should be no questions. The Assembly exists for proper discussion—ask for clear details, timelines, how the money is tracked, what happens if a project gets delayed. That’s right and necessary. But labeling it a “death trap” without real basis, whipping up fear instead of laying out facts, ends up hurting more than protecting. It spreads doubt, slows down progress, and keeps our people caught in the same old cycle of waiting and disappointment.
We’ve suffered enough from division and missed opportunities. Our young ones need proper roads to reach school, bridges to take their produce to market, tourism that brings regular income instead of seasonal scraps. Every rupee spent wisely today decides whether families stay here, businesses open, and hope actually returns to our homes.
Let’s keep asking tough questions—yes, always. But let’s not throw away a real chance to lift ourselves up just because fear speaks louder than facts. For every shopkeeper in Srinagar waiting for visitors, every farmer in the villages needing better irrigation, every parent dreaming of steady jobs for their children—we have to choose truth over noise. Our valley’s tomorrow depends on it.
