Sheikh Sameer
Education is the foundation of a strong society—a tool for empowerment, enlightenment, and progress. But when this sacred system is compromised by cheating and manipulation, it stops building futures and starts destroying potential. In the Kashmir Valley, particularly during the turbulent 1990s, a troubling phenomenon plagued the academic landscape: mass copying in examinations, especially in the Class 10 board exams.
What unfolded during that decade was not merely a case of individual dishonesty—it was the normalization of academic fraud, embedded in social, political, and institutional dysfunction. While many regions in India have faced episodes of academic malpractice, Kashmir’s crisis was unique in scale and context—and its aftershocks are still felt today.
The ’91 Pass Generation: When Exams Became Performances
One of the most telling phrases that emerged from this period is still whispered today in casual conversations across the Valley:
“Aknamath (91) pass” – “He’s a ’91 pass.”
This saying stems from the infamous 1991 Class 10 board examinations, a year symbolic of how deeply mass copying had infected the education system in Kashmir. Following an overwhelming wave of insurgency-related curfews and shutdowns, schools barely functioned. But board exams still went ahead—without preparation, structure, or oversight.
The result was unchecked cheating. In many centers, supervisors turned a blind eye, or in some cases, actively facilitated copying. Students were passed as long as they appeared. The integrity of the exam was so thoroughly eroded that 1991 became a historical marker—not of resilience, but of institutional collapse.
This mindset didn’t vanish in a year. Throughout the 1990s, particularly in rural districts of Kashmir, exam centers became epicenters of orchestrated academic fraud. Students brought chits and guidebooks inside the halls. Parents crowded around windows, whispering answers to their children. Model answers were sold the night before the exams. And invigilators, in some cases, read out answers in exchange for small bribes or favors.
Even seating arrangements were manipulated. Some schools placed students based on payment—those who paid received more “supportive” supervisors or were allowed to sit in clusters for easier answer sharing. As a result, the exam became a transaction, not an evaluation of merit.
The Collapse of Meritocracy
The most tragic casualty of this culture was merit. Hardworking students—those who had studied sincerely—began to feel hopeless. Why work hard, they asked, when others pass with chits, whispers, and purchased answer sheets?
As this cheating culture deepened, a toxic belief took hold:
“Copying is smart. Hard work is naïve.”
The only achievement that mattered was being “matric pass,” not how you got there. Knowledge, understanding, and academic growth were devalued. This ideology gave birth to a generation that started believing success could be earned through manipulation, not mastery.
When Cheating Joins the Workforce
Fast forward to today, and many individuals who passed through dishonest means now work in government departments, teach in schools, or hold administrative positions. While some may have evolved over time, the dangers of this legacy remain real.
What happens when those who faked their way through school become part of the system meant to uphold standards?
Incompetence becomes the norm. Productivity suffers. Services break down. Those who succeeded dishonestly cannot inspire future generations to value knowledge or effort.
A senior staffer in Kashmir’s Roads & Buildings (R&B) Department illustrated this gap clearly. Speaking about new recruits, he said:
“These youngsters plan their day in advance, bring their tea flasks and lunch to stay focused on-site, and finish 50–100 DPRs a day. Back in the day, one DPR could take months. This is the difference between real education and just being ‘pass.’”
It’s a telling example of how honest learning fuels progress, while copied credentials often lead to bottlenecks, poor decision-making, and inefficiency.
The Rise of the Tuition Mafia
The decay of ethics didn’t stop inside exam halls. In the early 2000s, another dark chapter began: the proliferation of private coaching centers—often run by schoolteachers themselves.
These weren’t just tuition hubs; many became exam-fixing operations. Students were pressured to enroll in exchange for “exam help.” This help often meant leaked question papers, pre-dictated answers, or lenient supervision during board exams.
A parent once told me in 2019: “A teacher in Anantnag warned me—‘Either enroll your child in my tuition centre, or don’t expect support when exams come.’”
This practice fundamentally corrupted the teacher-student relationship. Teachers were no longer seen as mentors, but as mark brokers. Education became transactional. Values were discarded in favor of “result guarantees.”
Echoes That Still Linger
Despite ongoing reforms, old mindsets haven’t fully disappeared. Recently, during a conversation with a reputed principal in Anantnag, a villager approached us and, visibly upset, said:
“You have daughters too. What harm would it have done if you had let my daughter copy? Maybe she’d have gotten a job by now. But you didn’t help—so I’m angry with you.”
For many from the 1990s generation, copying isn’t cheating—it’s helping. They see it as the support system they once received and now expect for their children. This perception is perhaps the hardest thing to undo.
Winds of Change: Reforms in the 2020s
Thankfully, the post-2010 era has seen real changes in Kashmir’s examination system, driven by government action, media pressure, and a growing public demand for merit-based progress.
Key reforms include:
- Flying squads to conduct surprise inspections
- External invigilators replacing school staff
- Barcoding of answer sheets to prevent tampering
- CCTV surveillance in examination centers
- Student awareness campaigns promoting exam integrity
These measures have significantly reduced copying. In most urban centers, open cheating is now rare. Students are better informed, more competitive, and increasingly driven by merit, not manipulation.
Let Honesty Define the Future
The 1990s left Kashmir with a painful legacy—one of lost academic credibility, broken trust, and generations shaped by shortcuts. But Kashmir has always been a land of resilience. And today, it is witnessing a quiet educational revolution.
The youth of Kashmir now dream bigger and work harder. They know that a real degree matters more than a paper pass. They are choosing honesty over shortcuts, integrity over imitation.
It is time to let the era of copying be remembered only as a warning, not as a way of life. Let Kashmir’s schools and colleges produce not just pass-outs, but pioneers, thinkers, and nation-builders.
Let us all stand behind a new academic culture that says:
“I will earn my marks the right way. Because only knowledge—not a copy—builds futures.”
The Kashmir Dialogues
