I Am From Shirote And I Did Not Vote: Here’s Why? – OpEd

Living in a remote hilly area of Jammu and Kashmir means that while growing up I learned that schooling is a luxury. The only primary school in my village, Shirote, operated from one room. So, after completing Class 3, I was sent to my grandmother’s village, Gahan, – another remote village nearby – where schooling was a shade better. But when militants burnt the school down, we were compelled to complete our education in an open-air classroom with no roofs and walls.

Teacher absenteeism was already a problem but amidst the threat of militants, it increased and students began to drop out of classrooms. Bogged by the backwardness of these villages and the threat of militants, some people migrated to the town. Many like us stayed back and grappled with the horror of fear, no proper classrooms and lack of teachers.

That was what seemed normal till I moved out after middle school for my studies and witnessed a world that seemed so far apart from ours. In the 21^st century, while the urban areas of the country are trying to pace up with cities of the developed world, our villages are caught in a time warp – still scrambling for the basics.

Life in Shirote

In the secluded village of Shirote, nestled in the rugged hills of Drabshalla in Kishtwar district, when I was a child, life was a daily struggle for survival.

It continues to be.

Perched 5,600 feet above sea level, the village is home to nearly 2,000 people, mostly Rajputs who speak the local dialect of Saroori. Despite being part of an independent nation for decades, Shirote’s people live as if forgotten by time, left to battle the harsh elements and even harsher socio-economic conditions that have plagued them since long before India gained its freedom.

For four long months each year, from June to September, the villagers are forced to adopt a nomadic lifestyle, leading their cattle and animals through treacherous mountain paths in search of food.

The winter snow that blankets the region from December to March cuts them off from the rest of the world, leaving them without access to even the most basic necessities. Roads, hospitals, banking services, postal facilities, and reliable communication remain out of reach for these hardy mountain folk.

To access a school, a hospital, or even a grocery store, they must walk between six to ten kilometers on foot—a journey fraught with danger, especially for the young and elderly.

Education continues to be a distant dream for many in Shirote. The village school is now upgraded to a middle school but it continues to operate from a one-room rented space. It lacks proper buildings and infrastructure. The youth, eager to learn, are forced to study in makeshift classrooms under the open sky, exposed to the elements. Many continue to travel 8 kilometres on foot daily to attend high school.

During rains, it is impossible to trek through the kuccha hilly tracks and attend school. Now with threat of militancy again raising its head in the region, it is feared that there would be more drop-outs. The girl students are the worst affected.

Most women in Shirote remain uneducated, trapped in a cycle of poverty and social stigma that forbids them from braving the unsafe terrain alone to reach the nearest school.

Despite the many challenges they face, the people of Shirote remain resilient. Out of the entire village, only 35 to 40 individuals have managed to graduate. Including me, two people have pursued higher education – M.Phil and PhD.

The lack of healthcare facilities is a dire concern. In case of pregnancy, those who can afford it travel to the nearest hospital well in advance, waiting out the days until delivery. But the poorest women have no such luxury. They must rely on the traditional practices of a local Dai, an experienced village woman, for childbirth. For any medical emergency, the villagers must walk six to eight kilometers to the nearest dispensary, located in a neighbouring village. And if the situation is critical, they must somehow transport the patient to the district hospital 60 kilometers away—a journey so arduous that many never make it in time.

My parents, younger brother and sister still live in our village, and it’s difficult to manage emergencies or health issues, especially during the rainy season and winter. I had to move my mother to Jammu because she’s a kidney patient on dialysis, and there’s no quality treatment available in our district. Rural areas lack facilities for dialysis, and even at the district level, the care is inadequate and risky.

The road to the city, a lifeline for the villagers, only begins eight kilometers from Shirote. Until they reach that point, they must navigate footpaths through rough terrain, without any transportation or connectivity. The people have learned to keep basic medical supplies at home, relying on their own knowledge to treat common ailments, though this practice often leads to more harm than good.

Details of Village in tabulation form

But for the vast majority, life in Shirote is a test of endurance, a daily battle against the odds. The village, rich in tourism potential with its ancient temples and vibrant folk culture, is also a place where many lives are cut short—where the lack of connectivity, healthcare, and education keeps the people in a state of perpetual struggle. And yet, they persist, clinging to their land, their traditions, and the hope that one day, the world will remember them.

Hopes Cut Short

Fleeting hopes of improvement in the recent past have brought in more disappointment.

In 2019, the Jammu and Kashmir government launched the Back-to-Village (B2V) programme with the goal of improving rural governance and service delivery. The initiative was designed to ease the anxieties and hardships of rural communities by bringing government services to the villagers’ doorsteps and resolving long-standing issues like road connectivity, electricity, drinking water, and internet access.

Initially, the B2V programme brought a sense of jubilation, and hope in the village. On paper, the B2V programme and similar initiatives seem modern and people-centric, but implementation has been riddled with corruption, inefficiency, and a lack of transparency.

The reality for Shirote is that five years on, the essential civic amenities, including roads, internet connectivity, healthcare, and banking services, are still out of reach.

Five phases of the B2V programme have been completed in Shirote, yet the fundamental issue of road connectivity, which villagers have raised repeatedly over the last five years, remains unresolved. This neglect not only keeps Shirote isolated and underdeveloped but also allows local panchayat representatives to pursue their vested interests unchecked, as the absence of basic infrastructure prevents villagers from holding them accountable.

Deepening Disparities

Rather than empowering the village community, recent policy changes have not only ignored their existing disparities but have exacerbated them. Significant inequities have deepened the village’s suffering, and this extends to other areas in the district as well. For instance, the reduction of their RBA (Reserved Backward Area) quota from 20% to 10% and their exclusion from the new tribal status—granted selectively only to the Padder area in Kishtwar district—have left the community feeling abandoned.

This is particularly unjust as the people of Shirote share the same unique ethnic, socio-economic, cultural, and geographical identity as those newly recognized tribes. Moreover, the introduction of the new Economically Weaker Section (EWS) category fails to consider the distinct topography of hilly areas like Shirote. The eligibility criteria, particularly the upper limit on landholding, do not take into account the significant difference in land value between plain and hilly rural areas, effectively excluding Shirote from accessing national benefits.

These policy oversights have not only failed to address the existing challenges faced by Shirote but have intensified their marginalization, pushing them further into a cycle of neglect and exclusion.

Conclusion 

As I reflect on the socio-economic and political changes that have swept across our country, I am left with a profound sense of disappointment. We have long awaited the day when the promises of democracy would translate into tangible improvements in our lives—when the fruits of a developing nation would reach even the most remote corners, like our village. Yet, year after year, that hope has been met with disillusionment.

In a representative democracy, we chose our representatives in elections so that they can work for ameliorating our lives and heed our concerns. It seems that neither the votes of our elders nor the voices of our generation have made any real difference in the approach of the government, over the last few decades.

We may be independent in name, no longer subject to external rule, but when it comes to development, our lives remain shackled by neglect and broken promises. During the recent political campaigns for the 17th Lok Sabha, we heard the same hollow assurances that have echoed since 1947. There is constant talk of India becoming a knowledge superpower, of achieving self-reliance, of embracing Digital India. But these lofty ambitions are nothing more than words, repeated time and again without the slightest effort to bring them to life in places like ours.

The dilemma I face today is one of trust. How can I, in good conscience, place my faith in any of the candidates? How can I break vote when the same leaders who have let us down in the past continue to make the same empty promises? The so-called development models they champion have failed to provide us with even the most basic necessities. How, then, can I believe that they are truly building a developed nation?

I continue to support the democratic ideals of my country—equality, liberty, justice, and the priority of the people. But I am deeply concerned by the way our political leaders, regardless of party affiliation, have degraded the very structures and institutions meant to serve us. Personal gain has taken precedence over the welfare of the people. Our village is just one example of the widespread neglect and unfairness that plague countless other areas and communities. Neither the ruling party nor the opposition has shown the slightest seriousness in addressing the fundamental issues of water, roads, electricity, and healthcare that we so desperately need.

This is not just a personal lament; it is a cry for accountability. The promises of a free, democratic India ring hollow in the silence of our struggles.

I did not vote in the parliamentary elections and will not vote in the assembly elections, whenever they are held. I register my protest against the successive regimes of this country, and our chosen representatives, that have failed to address the deepening disparities our villages deal with.

• This article was published at Kashmir Times