It starts with a single step. A train ticket, a flight, a bus ride. A young man with a suitcase, his mother watching from the doorway, her hands clasped tight. A young woman with a scholarship letter folded neatly in her purse. Their fathers drive them to the station, to the airport.
There are hugs, quiet words, a long silence before the final goodbye. Then they leave.
They leave for studies, for jobs, for something they can’t quite name. Something bigger than themselves. Some say they’ll come back. Some never do.
The valley is full of talent. Doctors, engineers, teachers, writers. People with sharp minds and steady hands. People who could build something here, if only they had the tools. But the tools are missing, so they go looking for them elsewhere.
And those who stay? They watch the others leave, one after another, until it feels like a pattern, like fate.
The way out
It usually begins with college.
A student, named Sameer, sits in his room in Pulwama, surrounded by books. He wants to study genetic research. He looks up programs in Europe, in the U.S. He reads about breakthroughs happening in Berlin, in Boston. His professor tells him, You should apply abroad. He does. He gets in. He leaves.
That was six years ago. Now he has a lab in Germany, a career, a life there. Sometimes he thinks about coming back. His parents would like that. But then he wonders, Where would I even work?
Or take Mehreen. She studied IT in Srinagar. A bright student, good grades. She applied for jobs, sent emails, and waited. A few offers came—low pay, no growth. Then she got an offer from Hyderabad. The money was better. The future looked better. She packed her bags, said goodbye to her parents, and left.
Three years later, she leads an AI team for a tech firm. Her parents ask her if she’ll return. She tells them, Maybe someday. But she knows the truth. The work she does—the kind of work she loves—doesn’t exist in Kashmir.
According to a 2023 report by the Indian Express, nearly 25,000 students from Kashmir move out each year for higher education. The All India Survey on Higher Education (AISHE) notes that 90% of Kashmiri students who study outside the valley do not return for work.
The struggle of staying
And what happens to the ones who don’t leave? They graduate, get their degrees, wait for something to happen.
They go to job interviews, hopeful. They hear the same words: We’ll get back to you. Weeks pass. Then months. The phone never rings.
The job market is small. The industries aren’t enough. A researcher with a PhD might end up teaching high school. A software engineer might spend months hunting for one decent job.
Some settle for whatever they can find. Others stop looking.
Some try to build their own way.
Like Yasir from Anantnag. He had an idea—an e-commerce platform for Kashmiri handicrafts. He applied for funding. The banks said no. Investors weren’t interested. Infrastructure was weak. He fought for three years, trying to make it work. Then he left for Delhi.
In Delhi, things were different. The investors listened. The banks gave loans. The logistics made sense. His startup took off. He’s successful now. But when his mother calls and asks when he’ll visit, there’s something heavy in his voice. Soon, he says.
According to the Economic Survey of Jammu & Kashmir 2022-23, the unemployment rate in Kashmir is 23.1%—one of the highest in India. Amongst educated youth, this number is even higher. The report also notes that over 40% of postgraduates in Kashmir remain unemployed.
More than just work
Some leave for reasons that have nothing to do with jobs. They want more. More experiences, more connections, more life.
Arif, a journalist from Budgam, left for Delhi. Not just for work, but for the city itself. The film festivals, the book readings, the conversations in cafes. “I wanted to be around creative people,” he says. “To grow as a writer.”
He looks back at Kashmir with love, but also with a quiet sadness. “We have talent,” he says, “but no platforms.”
And then there’s the pull of big cities. The way life moves faster. The way the world opens up when you step outside. Some young men and women, once they get a taste of it, find it hard to return to a place that feels smaller, quieter.
The middle ground?
Not everyone leaves completely. Some find a way to stay while working for the outside world.
Remote jobs. Freelancing. IT work done from home in Sopore or Baramulla. It’s a new kind of survival.
But even that has limits. There aren’t enough co-working spaces, no real tech hubs, no professional circles to grow in. Working alone in a room can only take you so far.
The infrastructure needs to be better. The internet faster. The power cuts fewer. If those things changed, maybe more people would choose to stay.
Can they come back?
It won’t change overnight. But maybe it can change.
Maybe better universities, better research centres, better industries can hold people here. Maybe investors will take a chance on young Kashmiri entrepreneurs. Maybe the cities will grow in ways that make people want to stay.
The ones who left—they love this place. They miss it. They talk about home in quiet moments, in conversations over dinner in foreign cities. They dream of the mountains, of the streets they grew up on, of their mothers’ cooking.
But love and longing aren’t enough.
They need a reason to come back. A place to fit. A future that doesn’t feel like a step backward.
And if that future exists—some will stay. Some will return.
And maybe then, the leaving will slow.
Government efforts to retain talent
Union Minister of State for Education Subhas Sarkar, in a recent speech, acknowledged the challenges posed by brain drain. He stressed that the Indian government is committed to retaining graduating students within the country and creating an environment that nurtures growth.
He mentioned ongoing efforts to improve educational infrastructure, encourage research, and provide better job opportunities to help skilled individuals find a future at home.
“India has always had the potential to offer the right opportunities, and we are focusing on strengthening our educational systems, industries, and research centers,” Sarkar said. “The goal is to ensure that our youth, including those from regions like Kashmir, can contribute to our nation’s growth without feeling the need to seek opportunities elsewhere.”
A future of possibilities
While the struggle persists, there is hope. The work being done by the government, entrepreneurs, and community leaders shows that change is possible.
As infrastructure improves and more opportunities emerge, perhaps a new chapter can begin for Kashmir’s young minds—a chapter that keeps them here, working toward a brighter, more prosperous future for their home and country.
Gowher Bhat is a published author, creative writer, and experienced English instructor.
