By Er. Umair Ul Umar

A few weeks ago, a countryside boy from a government school told me he wanted to “learn how to speak English like the rich boys in Srinagar.”

His teacher had praised his science marks, but he wasn’t sure if that meant anything.

“They still get better jobs,” he said, pointing toward the hilltop private school with gleaming buses and a tall iron gate.

He wasn’t wrong. In today’s Kashmir, the game is increasingly fixed.

We often talk about success as something earned. “Work hard,” they say, “and you’ll rise.”

Yet rising is no longer about hard work. It’s about where you were born, who your parents know, which school you went to, and whether your surname opens doors.

The myth of meritocracy survives only because it hides in plain sight, dressed in the language of aspiration.

Elite families, those who control land, businesses, politics, and culture, are consolidating than merely surviving.

The sons of Kashmiri landlords are now legislators. Their daughters head private schools. And their cousins run the bureaucracy.

These families have moved from orchards to offices without ever losing power. Generation after generation, they inherit institutions, not just assets. They shape syllabi, policies, hiring, even aesthetics.

Beyond ambition, this is aristocracy.

In the 1990s, Kashmiri families lived side by side. A new child, a new cow, or a wedding was a shared joy. People borrowed sugar from each other’s kitchens. A meal of mutton was sent across fences without ceremony. There was pride, but not........

© Kashmir Observer