Dr Aftab Jan
In 2017, when the Rehbar-e-Khel policy was introduced, it carried more than official language. It carried hope, direction, and a silent assurance that patience would lead to stability. It fixed a probation period of seven years and promised regularization in a staggered manner. In 2019, thousands of young individuals stepped into this system with trust. They accepted the long wait without resistance because they believed that a written policy would be honored in action. Today, more than seven years and six months have passed, yet that promise remains unfulfilled, and that silence has now turned into a deep, unspoken pain. Seven years are not ordinary years. They are the most precious and golden phase of a person’s life. These are the years when a person builds his future, supports his parents, raises his children, and secures his place in society. Rehbar-e-Khel teachers did not spend these years in comfort or certainty. They gave these golden years to the system without hesitation. They stood in schools with full responsibility, shaping students, building discipline, and promoting physical and mental strength. They were never treated as temporary when work was taken from them, yet they continue to remain temporary when it comes to recognition, and this contradiction has slowly turned into a wound that does not heal.
The policy clearly mentioned staggered regularization, which created hope that after completing probation, a process would begin, a movement toward stability would start. But that movement has not come. Time has moved forward, responsibilities have been fulfilled, but implementation has remained delayed. This delay is not just administrative. It has become deeply personal. It has stretched patience to its limit and turned expectation into uncertainty.
During these years, these teachers did not limit themselves to one role. They became the system wherever the system needed them. They led health and wellness programmes across districts, working to improve the physical fitness and mental well being of students.
At a time when youth are increasingly affected by stress, addiction, and unhealthy lifestyles, they stood as a support system. They stepped into drug de addiction programmes, guiding students away from paths that silently destroy lives. They worked with sincerity, not because it was required, but because it was needed. When the Covid 19 pandemic created fear across every home, they did not step back. They worked on the ground, supported awareness, helped communities understand safety, and became part of the effort that held society together during one of its most difficult times. When census duties were assigned, they performed them with discipline.
When Mission YUVA required participation, they contributed without hesitation. Every responsibility that came, they accepted. Every call from the system, they answered. Inside schools, their role expanded even further. In the absence of lecturers, they entered classrooms and took academic responsibility. They taught subjects, maintained discipline, and ensured that students did not suffer. Many delivered consistent 100 percent results over several years, which stands as clear proof of their dedication and capability. They proved themselves again and again, yet they remain where they started, and this is where the pain becomes unbearable. It is not the work that breaks a person.
‘Unfulfilled promises inflict deep, ongoing injury on Rehbar-e-Khel teachers who have sacrificed their youth in service. Having fully completed their probation and met all policy requirements, these educators are not asking for favors, but for the immediate execution of a path already promised. While lost years cannot be returned, they must be honored by filling the available posts they have rightfully earned through years of patient sacrifice.”
It is the waiting after the work is done. It is the realization that the most valuable years of life have been given, yet the future remains uncertain. These were the years when they could have built stability, planned life, and secured their families, but instead, these golden years passed in waiting, in hope, and in silent struggle. Behind every Rehbar-e-Khel teacher is a family that has also lived this wait. There are parents who look toward their children with expectation. There are spouses who carry responsibilities with patience. There are children whose needs grow every day.
There are dreams that remain incomplete because stability has not arrived. Financial pressure increases with time, but income and security do not match that reality. This creates a silent suffering inside homes, where hope is maintained, but certainty is missing. There is also an emotional burden that cannot be measured. A teacher stands before students and speaks about discipline, patience, and belief in hard work. He tells them that if they remain consistent, they will succeed. But inside, he carries a question that grows heavier with time. Does effort always lead to recognition. When students begin to see this contradiction, it weakens their belief in long term commitment. It creates doubt where there should be trust.
The issue is not eligibility because years of service have already proven that. The issue is not vacancies because posts are available. The issue is not contribution because that is visible in every school and every programme. The issue is delay, a delay that continues without clarity, without timeline, and without reassurance. This delay has now crossed from policy into pain.
Rehbar-e-Khel teachers have shown patience beyond expectation. They have continued their duties without disruption. They have respected the system even when the system delayed their progress. They have stood in classrooms, in communities, and in times of crisis with full commitment. This patience is strength, but even strength begins to weaken when it is not met with fairness.
A policy without implementation becomes a burden.
A promise without fulfillment becomes a wound. A timeline without action becomes a source of continuous pain. Today, everything is clear. The probation period is complete. The service has been delivered. The responsibilities have been fulfilled. The posts are available. The policy already provides the path. What remains is action. Because when the golden years of life are taken with a promise, those years cannot be returned. They can only be honored, and right now, Rehbar-e-Khel teachers are not asking for anything beyond what was already written, already promised, and already earned through years of sacrifice, silent patience, and unwavering service.
(The author a teacher by profession is a freelancer. 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”)
