Parizaads of Kashmir

The next poet, painter, or innovator may be sitting unnoticed in a Kashmir school. Will we see them before it’s too late?

- Dr. Ashraf Zainabi

TV serial rarely changes how a society sees itself. But Parizaad did. It told the story of a boy who was dark-skinned, poor, and poetic.

He was mocked by neighbours, dismissed by teachers, ignored by peers. He had a kind heart and an honest mind. But that wasn't enough.

Only when he became rich did the world begin to value him. By then, it was too late.

What struck me most was how familiar his story felt, as Kashmir is full of Parizaads.

They sit in the backs of classrooms, drawing galaxies in the corners of their notebooks. They walk to school on muddy roads, shoes torn, and racing minds. They write poems in worn diaries, help parents in the fields, dream of labs, studios, and libraries.

But no one pays attention, until they give up or disappear.

We talk endlessly of talent. We glorify Iqbal, celebrate Ghalib, invoke Rumi. But when a boy from Pulwama scribbles verses, we ask him to stop wasting time. When a girl in Gurez hums a tune in the corridor, we tell her to be realistic.

Dreams in Kashmir need a pedigree. Your family must be known. Your accent must be polished. Your schooling must be English-medium. Your references must be influential.

Merit is not enough. Hunger for learning is not enough. Grit, imagination, and honesty are not enough.

The result is predictable.