Kashmiri Kids Deserve Better

Listening to Kashmiri children, I uncover stories that demand more than sympathy. They call for action.

- Sheeba Nair

I was sitting in my living room, scrolling through my phone, when a voice message stopped me cold.

It was Ayesha, a Class 7 student from Jammu & Kashmir. Her voice was small, shaky. "I get terrified when there's an explosion, even on TV," she said. "I can't focus on my studies. Please help..."

My chest tightened. I played it again, her fear sinking deeper into me.

A month ago, a terror attack in Pahalgam killed 26 people. It shook the nation, and it's still shaking kids like Ayesha.

I've been talking to children and families in J&K, trying to understand what life feels like for them now. The attack wasn't just a headline, it ripped through their sense of safety.

Ainoor, a 12th-grader with bright eyes and gritty smile, tells me about the hope they'd built over the last few years.

"Since March 2021, our schools have stayed open for over 1,500 days straight," she says, her voice proud but heavy. "No random closures. That was huge for us. We thought we were finally getting a normal life."

Then April 22 hit. Explosions echoed through their valleys, sirens wailed, and blackouts darkened their homes.

"Our fears came rushing back," Ainoor continues. "Will it all start again?"

She's not alone in her worry. Shehnaaz, another 12th-grader, wants to pursue science. She's scared the disruptions will widen the education gap that's already left Kashmiri students struggling to keep up. "Why can't our lives be normal like other students'?" she asks over a crackling phone line. I don't have an answer.

Ufaq, who's studying for her medical entrance exam, and Zeenat, preparing for college admissions, tell me the tension makes it impossible to focus.

Reyaan, a soft-spoken boy from Baramulla near the Line of Control, says four days of war-like chaos left him and others rattled. "What if it lasted longer?" he asks. I can feel the weight of his fear, living so close to the border.