Vivek Koul
The Prime Minister’s Employment Package for displaced Kashmiri Pandits, launched in 2009 and implemented in 2010 with the promise of 6,000 jobs, was conceived as a landmark initiative aimed at facilitating the dignified return and rehabilitation of the exiled community to their homeland. It was seen as a symbol of hope – a bridge between exile and return, between loss and renewal. Yet, more than a decade later, what was envisioned as a measure of reintegration has, for many, tragically turned into a package of separation and alienation. When the scheme was announced, its intent was clear: to restore a sense of belonging to the Kashmiri Pandits displaced from the Valley in the 1990s, and to anchor them back in the socio-economic landscape of Kashmir. In its initial phase, 3,000 appointments were made under the package, followed by another 3,000 in subsequent years, notably in 2014 and 2017. The government assured prospective employees that they would be provided with secure and adequate housing before joining their posts. This assurance was not just administrative; it was a moral commitment – one that would enable families to return to the Valley with a semblance of stability and safety.
However, the ground reality tells a starkly different story. Even after 15 years, only about 3,500 of the promised 6,000 employees have been allotted government accommodation. The construction of transit quarters, meant to be a temporary but safe dwelling arrangement, has been marred by interminable delays, substandard infrastructure, and bureaucratic apathy. Many of these accommodations remain incomplete, with poor-quality materials, broken roads, and inadequate facilities. The connecting roads to several of these quarters are in deplorable condition, often non-motorable, and riddled with potholes. In some cases, the government has made symbolic allotments of quarters – often highlighted for publicity – but possession has not been granted. Reports suggest that these announcements are made for mere public relations optics rather than genuine relief to the employees. Boundary walls are missing, basic amenities like water and electricity are inconsistent, and most importantly, there is no provision for security – a vital requirement given the region’s volatile situation. Further, The employees appointed under the PM Package are required to vacate their allotted flats or quarters upon retirement. Consequently, they must return to Jammu after completing their service. Therefore, this arrangement cannot be termed as true rehabilitation; it merely serves as a temporary settlement rather than a permanent resettlement measure.
The irony is bitter. The very employees who were promised rehabilitation are now living in rented accommodations in Kashmir, often in unsafe localities, while their families continue to reside hundreds of kilometres away in Jammu. For them, this package has translated into years of separation, loneliness, and psychological strain. The lofty objective of “return and rehabilitation” stands hollow when the beneficiaries themselves describe it as a “punishment package.” Life for these employees is defined by constant anxiety and emotional dislocation. Living under the shadow of militancy, their existence is fragile and uncertain. They go to work amid palpable fear, return to empty quarters, and live with the constant worry for their families back in Jammu. For many, this forced separation from their loved ones has taken a toll on their mental health. The inability to care for ageing parents or share family responsibilities has compounded their distress. What was meant to be an employment and rehabilitation package has instead fragmented families and deepened their sense of exile.
The government’s repeated assertions of successfully rehabilitating Kashmiri Pandits ring hollow in light of these realities. If it has been unable to ensure the secure resettlement of just 6,000 employees, how plausible is the claim of facilitating the return of the entire displaced community – estimated to be around four to five lakh people? The gap between policy proclamations and ground realities is glaring. Equally concerning is the choice of locations for the transit accommodations. Many of the newly constructed flats are situated in remote, isolated, and mountainous areas, far from the main towns and administrative hubs. Some are even located near riverbeds and springs, exposing the residents to potential flooding during the rainy season. Such planning raises serious questions about the government’s understanding of both the geographical and psychological dimensions of resettlement. For a community already grappling with trauma and insecurity, isolation in such areas only deepens the alienation. Despite these challenges, the official narrative continues to portray the PM Employment Package as a success story – a narrative that contrasts sharply with the testimonies of those living its reality. For the media, the package is often a convenient symbol of “return,” but for the employees on the ground, it represents a painful contradiction: a policy that has brought them closer to danger and further away from their families.
The broader implications are worrying. The package, which could have been a model for gradual and voluntary resettlement, has instead become an example of administrative failure and misplaced priorities. In its current form, it neither offers genuine rehabilitation nor ensures dignity and safety. It has become a token gesture – one that looks good on paper but collapses under the weight of its own contradictions. Over the years, these employees have repeatedly appealed to the authorities for secure housing, relocation to safer zones, and the option of working from Jammu until conditions in the Valley improve. Their pleas, however, have been met largely with silence or bureaucratic indifference. While governments change and rhetoric evolves, the lives of these employees remain trapped in limbo – caught between duty and despair. The emotional toll of this prolonged uncertainty cannot be overstated. Many employees narrate stories of missing family milestones, of elderly parents living alone and unwell in Jammu, of children growing up without the daily presence of a parent. Their lives have become a constant oscillation between hope and disillusionment. The package that was meant to reunite families with their homeland has ended up dividing them further. The government must recognise that rehabilitation is not merely about employment or infrastructure – it is about trust, dignity, and security. It cannot be achieved through symbolic postings or incomplete housing projects. True rehabilitation demands empathy, sustained engagement, and a realistic understanding of ground conditions. Until these principles are internalised, policies like the PM Employment Package will remain hollow gestures – promises made to a displaced community that continues to wait for justice and belonging.
Fifteen years on, the package stands as a sobering reminder of how a well-intentioned scheme can lose its essence in the labyrinth of bureaucracy and political optics. What was supposed to be a bridge back to home has, for thousands of Kashmiri Pandits, become a wall of separation. The tragedy is not only in the failure of infrastructure but in the failure of imagination – the inability to translate a promise of return into a lived reality of dignity and safety. In the final analysis, the so-called rehabilitation has turned into a cruel paradox. The employees who symbolize the government’s claim of “return” live in isolation, fear, and disillusionment. Their story is not one of homecoming but of continued exile under a different name. The Prime Minister’s Package for Kashmiri Pandits, intended as an instrument of hope, has instead evolved into a package of separation – a poignant metaphor for a policy that began with promises of belonging but ended in alienation.