Sheikh Amjid, Dr. Zakir Amin
If one were to begin with honesty and a measure of reflection, it would be difficult to deny that something is fundamentally amiss. Policymakers appear trapped in a cycle of their own making—announcing reforms, expanding institutions, and producing graduates—while the very system meant to absorb these graduates remains stagnant. The result is not merely inefficiency; it is a quiet, deepening despair that continues to go unheard.This concern does not arise in isolation. It reflects the lived experiences of countless individuals who have done everything expected of thempursued education, gained expertise, and remained patient—only to find themselves stranded.
If anything still remains to be protected from this harsh reality, it is the future of those yet to enter this systemour children. What we are witnessing today can best be described as a “locked door paradox”: a system that prepares individuals for opportunities that exist in theory but not in reality. Students enter with hope, invest their most productive years acquiring knowledge and skills, believing that opportunity awaits them. Yet, when they finally reach that point, they encounter not an open pathway, but a door that has remained firmly shut for over a decade. It is deeply unfortunate that one might now hesitate before advising a young student in Jammu & Kashmir to pursue a degree in agriculture. This is not because the discipline lacks value—far from it—but because the system has failed to value those who dedicate themselves to it. Even when options are limited, one must think carefully before stepping into what increasingly resembles a void, where years of effort disappear without meaningful return.
A generation of agri-professionals—graduates, postgraduates, and even PhD holders—has been created with precision and care. They are trained, capable, and ready to serve. Yet, when the time comes to transition from education to employment, they find themselves facing closed doors. A common argument offered in response is that “jobs cannot be provided to everyone.” While this may hold true in theory, it does not align with the current reality. The issue here is not one of insufficient jobs—it is the near-total absence of them in this sector. The system does not merely struggle to employ all; it fails to employ many, and in some cases, almost any. This distinction is crucial and cannot be overlooked. What unfolds, therefore, is a troubling contradiction. Students are admitted, trained, and qualified over several years, only to be left without avenues for application. Nearly a decade of their most productive years is spent acquiring specialised knowledge that finds no place in the workforce.
More concerning is the prolonged absence of meaningful direct recruitment in the sector. For over ten years, there has been not just a pause, but a sustained silence. An entire generation has come of age, equipped itself with qualifications, and waited—only to realise that the opportunity they were promised was never truly accessible. This raises pressing questions. What purpose does such an education serve if it does not translate into opportunity? What logic justifies the expansion of degrees without a corresponding expansion of employment avenues? And what responsibility do policymakers bear when aspirations are met with indifference rather than opportunity? These are not abstract concerns; they go to the very heart of trust between institutions and the people they serve.
“A generation of qualified agricultural professionals risks being sidelined by a system that fails to provide the opportunities they’ve earned. The burden of reform rests on policymakers and system designers, not the graduates themselves. Ultimately, addressing this “silent cry” is more than a labor issue—it is a critical choice that will dictate the future integrity and success of the entire agricultural sector.”
At its core, the problem is structural. Recruitment frameworks have gradually narrowed the entry points for agri-graduates. Distinctions between different levels of qualification have blurred, diminishing the value of higher education. Direct recruitment has not just been reduced—it has, in many respects, been rendered ineffective. In doing so, the system has prioritised administrative convenience over professional competence.
The consequences are visible and far-reaching. Young professionals, once driven by purpose, now find themselves disillusioned and fatigued. Many are forced to abandon their field altogether, seeking livelihoods in unrelated sectors. This not only represents a personal loss for those individuals but also a systemic failure. The agricultural sector, which stands in urgent need of skilled professionals, is deprived of the very expertise it has helped cultivate. What was once envisioned as a reservoir of talent gradually turns into a reservoir of frustration.
This cycle, if left unaddressed, risks becoming self-perpetuating. As fewer students perceive agriculture as a viable career path, the quality and motivation of future entrants may decline. At the same time, the absence of fresh talent within the sector can hinder innovation, productivity, and long-term sustainability. In a region where agriculture remains a backbone of the economy, such neglect carries consequences that extend far beyond employment statistics.
It is important to recognise that jobs in this sector are not merely a matter of individual livelihood—they are integral to development itself. Agri-professionals play a crucial role in improving productivity, ensuring food security, promoting sustainable practices, and supporting rural economies. To treat them as marginal to the system is to misunderstand their importance entirely.
The need of the hour is not incremental adjustment but decisive correction. Recruitment policies must be revisited, expanded, and aligned with the scale of educational output. Transparent and regular hiring processes must be reinstated to restore confidence among aspiring professionals. Equally important is the creation of alternative pathways—research opportunities, extension services, and entrepreneurship support—that allow agri-graduates to meaningfully contribute to the sector.
Above all, there must be a shift in perspective. Development cannot be reduced to infrastructure and announcements alone; it must include the people who are trained to sustain it. Ignoring agri-professionals undermines not just their future, but the future of agriculture itself.
If the current trajectory continues, we risk transforming what should have been a story of growth into a narrative of neglect. A generation that could have contributed meaningfully may instead be remembered as one that was left waiting. The responsibility for change does not lie with those who studied, persevered, and hopedit lies with those who design and implement the system. The silent cry of agri-professionals must not remain unheard. It is not merely a demand for jobs; it is a call for fairness, accountability, and vision. Whether this call is answered or ignored will determine not only the fate of thousands of young professionals but also the direction of agricultural development in the years to come.
(Sheikh Amjid is President, Agriculture Graduates Association -J&K Dr. Zakir Amin its General Secretary. The views, opinions and conclusions expressed in this article are those of the author and aren’t necessarily in accord with the views of “Kashmir Horizon”)
