The ongoing assembly elections in Kashmir have turned into a bewildering spectacle, one that mirrors the region’s sustained political disengagement and self-imposed disempowerment. The narrative surrounding these elections has become an absolute mess—like someone trying to make a soup using only leftover scraps from an already stale meal. There are old faces, new faces, even supposedly independent candidates who, in reality, seem more tethered to invisible strings than ever. Yet, despite the fresh labels, nothing on the political menu feels particularly appetizing or new.
In fact, it’s hard to look at the manifestoes being offered and not think of a poorly run restaurant with an overstuffed, inconsistent menu. “What will you have today, sir? Statehood? Maybe a side of Article 370 with a sprinkle of dignity?” The offerings are endless but somehow manage to feel both undercooked and overdone at the same time. It’s like the chefs of this political kitchen aren’t even trying to hide the fact that they’re reheating the same promises we’ve seen for decades, dressed up in different garnishes but fundamentally unchanged.
Lost in the Noise: Can We Even Make an Informed Choice?
For anyone who wants to make an informed choice, this political cacophony is deafening. It’s not just noise for the sake of it; it’s a deliberate overcomplication of what should be a simple task—voting for the best candidate to lead the region. Instead, the electorate is left navigating a confusing maze of half-baked promises, old grievances, and muddled narratives that seem to shift depending on who’s speaking or what day of the week it is.
The metaphorical “Maya jaal” (illusionary net) that has enveloped the electorate is not accidental. It’s a carefully crafted smokescreen that makes it almost impossible to see through to the heart of the issues at stake. The illusion is compounded by the fact that people have long since given up expecting clear answers or meaningful change. When voters have grown so used to being misled, their trust in the system diminishes—and rightly so.
In such a situation, the electorate faces a grim choice: to vote, despite the obvious farce of it all, or to abstain entirely and risk continued disenfranchisement. But can we afford to remain indifferent? Can we afford to keep sitting on the sidelines as the same disillusioning cycle repeats, year after year? The truth is, we’ve been trying not to choose for decades—and look where it has gotten us.
Self-Sabotage: The Consequences of Inaction
The current state of political paralysis didn’t appear overnight. It’s the culmination of years—no, decades—of political passivity and wishful thinking. Much like waiting for an invisible crescent moon to appear in the night sky, people in Kashmir have spent years waiting for some undefined miracle to happen. Some utopian vision of political and social unity that never materialized, largely because no one was willing to put in the effort required to bring it about.
The crescent moon symbolizes more than just a religious or cultural artifact here. It stands for the belief that somehow, if we all just hold out long enough, the solution will reveal itself. We didn’t need to vote or participate in political discourse because, surely, something better was just around the corner. But, as it turns out, that kind of thinking is nothing more than a form of learned helplessness. By refusing to engage politically, we allowed the very conditions that now bind us—disempowerment, corruption, disenfranchisement—to take root.
When people stop participating in the political process, it doesn’t just result in a stagnant system. It leads to a complete erosion of agency. We’ve developed an almost pathological fear of facing reality—of opening our eyes to the fact that, without active involvement, things will only continue to worsen. It’s the political equivalent of sticking your head in the sand and hoping the storm passes over you. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.
The Menu of Empty Promises
Let’s return to the metaphor of the restaurant menu, because it’s just too fitting. Imagine walking into a fancy-looking eatery, hoping for a satisfying, fulfilling meal. Instead, you’re greeted by a waiter who’s trying to sell you the same tired dishes that have been circulating in the kitchen for years. “Would you like a return to statehood today? Or perhaps a fresh bowl of Article 370? How about some reform with a side of dignity? Or maybe you’d prefer the corruption special—it comes with extra promises of transparency!”
The truth is, none of these manifestoes are as fresh as they seem. They’re reheated leftovers served up with a smile, but deep down we know they’re not going to fill us up. The rhetoric about dignity and honor sounds good, but it’s as hollow as the last election cycle’s promises. What’s worse, we’re all too familiar with the consequences of these promises when they go unfulfilled: further corruption, disillusionment, and a political system that seems less and less interested in actually addressing the needs of the people.
What’s more, the so-called “independent” candidates don’t inspire much confidence either. In a perfect world, independent candidates would offer a fresh perspective, unburdened by party politics and long-standing alliances. But here, many of these candidates are anything but independent. They’re part of the same old machinery, just dressed up in different clothes. It’s hard not to look at the situation and think, “Well, maybe the chicken curry is the least terrible option on this menu of disappointments.”
Learned Helplessness: A Cycle of Disillusionment
One of the more tragic outcomes of this sustained political inaction is that we’ve come to expect very little from our leaders—and ourselves. After all, why bother engaging when we know that nothing will really change? This is the essence of learned helplessness, a psychological phenomenon where people, after repeated exposure to adverse situations, start believing that their actions can’t make a difference.
And that’s where the real danger lies: when an entire electorate comes to believe that they are powerless, that their votes don’t matter, that their voices will never be heard, you get a cycle of disillusionment and inaction. In this void of hope, cynicism takes root, and political opportunists thrive. They feed on the electorate’s despair, offering empty slogans and promises that will never materialize, all while consolidating their own power.
Breaking the Cycle: The Power of Choice
But here’s the thing: learned helplessness doesn’t have to be a permanent condition. Just because we’ve been stuck in this cycle of disillusionment for so long doesn’t mean we can’t break free from it. The power of choice—real choice—is still within our grasp, but only if we’re willing to seize it. The upcoming elections offer a critical opportunity to do just that.
It may feel like we’re trapped in a bad restaurant with nothing but stale dishes on offer, but that’s only true if we accept it as our fate. By engaging with the political process, by demanding more from our leaders, and by refusing to settle for the same old promises, we can start to change the menu.
So, next time the waiter comes around with the “specials”—Statehood, Article 370, corruption reform—let’s not just accept what’s being served. Let’s demand something better. After all, if we don’t ask for real change, we’re bound to be served the same political leftovers for another decade.
