Sixteen UPSC qualifiers. A maiden Ranji Trophy. Coding labs in Pulwama. Lavender in Jammu. The youth of Jammu and Kashmir are writing a new chapter — on their own terms, despite everything.

Jammu and Kashmir witnessed a record 16 candidates pass the UPSC Examination 2025 in a historic repeat of its 2022 peak. This milestone is marked by an inspiring tale of perseverance: a young man from a labourer’s family in Bandipora district who overcame complete blindness to secure his place among the country’s elite civil servants.

In the small village of Mirpora in Bandipora, Bashir Ahmad faced an unusual problem last month. Neighbours, relatives and strangers came to his modest home to offer congratulations, and the house ran out of space. Bashir did what others do when happiness overflows — he put up a tent in the courtyard. His son, Irfan Ahmad Lone, had cleared UPSC with All India Rank 957, a remarkable feat considering that Irfan has been totally blind since age ten. The poor family has no connections, no inherited wealth, nothing but the tenacious belief that a blind boy from a nondescript village in Bandipora could compete with the best minds in the country — and win.

A generation that chose the examination hall

Those 16 names cover entire J&K. Towseef Ahmad Ganie is from Puchal in Pulwama. Son of a daily labourer, he worked his way through veterinary college and had a job in Poonch before taking India’s toughest exam. Ritika Renu Bhan is a Kashmiri Pandit originally from Shopian in south Kashmir. Suvan Sharma, already in Indian Railway Management Service, is adding a civil services rank to a resume that previously includes two JKPS qualifications.

These are no accidental successes. They are the cumulative effect of a change set in motion in year 2010 – when Shah Faesal became the first Kashmiri topper of UPSC. This had a rippling effect across the valley. Coaching centers mushroomed in Sopore, in Baramulla, in smaller towns where common wisdom was that some futures were simply out of the reach. Today, those centers are full and for many youngsters in J&K, cracking UPSC is no longer a dream but a plan.

In late February 2026, Jammu and Kashmir won their maiden Ranji Trophy – the most prestigious prize in Indian domestic cricket – defeating eight-time champions Karnataka. J&K waited 67 years for the trophy. Among those who had a huge role in the win was Auqib Nabi, a 29-year-old fast bowler from Sheeri in the militant stronghold Baramulla, who took 60 wickets in the season. Sourav Ganguly, who was a spectator, suggested that Auqib, known as ‘Baramulla Express’, be called up for the national squad.

Football, Coding and Lavender

The change is not confined to UPSC and cricket. Across J&K, youth are finding new avenues to build something.

Football is quietly gaining popularity, mostly among teens. What is not as widely reported is the use of sports as a rehabilitation strategy. In de-addiction centres, running, football, martial arts, and sports are now a part of de-addiction. The logic is simple: sports help recreate self-respect and a daily routine that addiction destroys.

In technology, the government’s Mission YUVA and Skill India Digital are enrolling students in courses like artificial intelligence, data handling and digital communication. The administration is also planning to introducing basic AI in secondary schools. Incubation centers for start-ups are being set up and youth from militancy-affected districts like Kupwara and Shopian are setting up start-ups in areas like e-commerce, agri-tech and tourism, something unimaginable in recent past.

Then there is lavender. Under central government’s Aroma Mission, lavender farming has taken roots in distant areas of Jammu – in villages where the only viable career prospect was a government job or migration. Now, youth from these villages are cultivating lavender and making a living from the fragrance-based business. It may be a small story, told in the language of soil and season. But it is a metaphor for the increasing aspirations of the youth.

The Lifting Shadow of Terror

To be sure, cross-border terrorism from Pakistan remains an active threat. Targeted attacks on security forces and civilians continue, especially in Jammu region. The Line of Control is not a metaphor — it is a live boundary, guarded at considerable human cost. What is worth noting is this: youngsters mentioned in this article know all of that. Irfan Lone grew up in Bandipora, not a sheltered suburb. Auqib Nabi played his early cricket in Baramulla. Towseef Ganie served in Poonch, another affected district. They are not choosing aspiration in ignorance of their circumstances. They are choosing it in full knowledge of them. This is what distinguishes a change from a managed narrative.

Consider an image from Pulwama last month: an under-lights cricket tournament — the first ever in the district — drawing considerable crowd. Pulwama has, for long, been one of the volatile districts. It now has new subtexts: cricket, late evenings, neighbours in the same stands. This was not an official event nor a managed optic. It was a community event around a game, in a place where gatherings once carried an entirely different meaning.

Educationists and community workers in the Valley indicate a shift in the conversations the youth are having — away from narratives of grievance and towards questions of qualification, career and opportunity. Coaching centres in Srinagar are not emptying; they are filling. Startup incubators are busy. Across districts from Baramulla in north to Shopian in south, young people who were once drawn to street protests are now enrolling for skill-building programmes, not because someone told them to, but because the alternatives appear more real than they once did.

This story isn’t complete. It is a direction. Visible, documented, and driven not by policy alone but by individual choices made in living rooms, on practice grounds, and in rooms where someone is reading in Braille. In Jammu and Kashmir, the most radical act of recent time may not be the one that makes the news often. It may be a young man in a dark room in Bandipora, reading in Braille, preparing for India’s toughest exam – and trusting that the country is, in fact, his to compete for.

By: Kanchan Lakshman is a Delhi-based national security analyst.

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