My world has been altered seismically in these past six months, as have the ways in which I view my role both as a student and a young person. Given the altogether disorienting experience I had in Kashmir this summer, I was unsure whether I would be able to recover those somewhere-intrepid moments of my childhood home which I’d come to rely upon. While it is terrifying to confront the reality which accompanies irrevocable change, I’ve come to understand that perhaps the places which are sacred to us remain enmeshed in our minds, even after something undeniable has transformed them.
In seeking out these pieces of Kashmir, I found myself looking through photos I had taken over the course of several summers, many of which feature the children I had been teaching at a local public school. I’ve been working with a non-profit organization which aims to better the standards of public school education in the Kashmir Valley. Given the political adversities the state has been faced with lately, access to education has been fettered, more so than in years prior. As someone who interacts regularly and closely with the individuals who are most affected by these changes, I witnessed how incontrovertibly detrimental the Indian government’s recent policy maneuvers have been for children who are disadvantaged in multiple ways.
When I was younger, Kashmir for me was sun-blue skies and mountains which now exist only in my imaginings. I am forever grateful for the ways in which this world has shaped me, both secretly and conspicuously. The work I’ve been doing these past few years has pushed me out of the zones of comfort to which I so tightly cling. As somebody who is generally reserved, and often reticent, it was difficult for me to navigate the task of teaching a group of twelve-year olds who had conditioned themselves to resist any and all forms of authority. I learned from that experience that discomfort is a necessary and persistent part of life, and exposure to it can be incredibly rewarding.
Now, I think I am grappling with the discomfort of my world being reconfigured in this unforgiving and imprecise way. While I’m not sure that I can revisit the singular and still-familiar relationship I had to Kashmir previously, maybe I can celebrate the sun-lit memories of a place for which I will long, always.
I’ve been feeling like the onus remains on us, as students, to reform and reimagine the world around us, which seems to be falling apart quickly and uncontrollably. I’ve often felt that the changes we make later in life should be far-reaching and somehow perpetual, but maybe the sometimes-transient ways in which we touch people are equally necessary.
