“Every year nature becomes more unpredictable, forcing us to climb higher—but at the cost of our children’s education.”
Tauseef Ahmad
Srinagar, July 17:: Every summer, more than 30,000 nomadic families, comprising over 600,000 Gujjar and Bakarwal pastoralists, begin one of South Asia’s largest seasonal migrations. Travelling mostly on foot with sheep, goats and horses, they leave the plains of Jammu and the Pir Panjal region for the alpine meadows of Kashmir, including Bandipora, Gurez, Kupwara and Baramulla, where they spend nearly six months grazing livestock before returning ahead of winter.
The nearly 60-day migration, a tradition followed for generations, is becoming increasingly difficult. Climate change has altered rainfall patterns, prolonged dry spells have reduced the availability of alpine grasslands, many traditional grazing routes have been affected by forest restrictions, and increasing encounters with wild animals have made migration more dangerous. As families are forced to move to higher and more remote pastures in search of fodder, hundreds of children are being left without schools and teachers.
In May, 12-year-old Humaira, a Class 6 student from Rajouri, arrived with her family at Tragbal, a high-altitude meadow in north Kashmir’s Bandipora district. More than three months later, she says she has still not seen a teacher.
Along with nearly 20 other children camping nearby, Humaira spends her days grazing sheep instead of sitting in a classroom.
“I want to become a doctor and serve our nomadic community because when we are in the mountains, there are no hospitals nearby and people often suffer without treatment,” she said.
Looking at her unopened school bag, she added, “I brought all my books with me because I thought classes would begin like every year. But it has been more than three months and no teacher has come. Every morning I open my bag hoping someone will teach us, but every evening I close it again. I don’t want to spend my childhood only looking after sheep. I want to study, wear a white doctor’s coat one day and help my people. If we remain without education every migration season, how will our dreams ever come true?”
Nearby, Shabir Ahmed, another student who migrated from Poonch to Tragbal, said the annual disruption leaves children feeling forgotten.
“When schools reopen after migration, our classmates have already finished several chapters while we haven’t even opened our books,” he said.
“Teachers tell us to catch up, but nobody understands what we go through. We don’t skip school because we want to. We skip because there is no school where we live. Every year I fear I will eventually leave my studies because the gap keeps increasing.”
In the upper reaches of Uri, Amina Begum, a Class 8 student from Rajouri, said she carries her textbooks every summer despite knowing classes rarely begin.
“I keep my books safely wrapped in plastic so they don’t get damaged by rain,” she said. “But they remain inside my bag for months. I want to become a teacher so children like us never have to face this situation. Sometimes I feel we are invisible because nobody comes to ask whether we are studying or not.”
In Kupwara, Bilal Khan, whose family migrated from the Pir Panjal region, said education should move with the migrating community.
“Our migration cannot stop because our animals survive on these pastures,” he said. “If the government knows where our families migrate every year, why can’t it send one teacher along with us? Even if there are only five or ten families in one meadow, our children deserve the same education as children living in towns.”
Parents say they desperately want their children to study, but the realities of migration have changed dramatically over the past decade.
Mohammad Yousuf, a Bakarwal elder from Rajouri, said climate change has transformed routes that remained unchanged for generations.
“Earlier, there was grass everywhere and we stayed at fixed locations where the government had established seasonal schools in tents,” he said. “Our children could easily walk there every morning. But now the grass has disappeared from many traditional pastures. Streams have dried up, summers have become hotter and we have to climb much higher into the mountains to find grazing land for our animals. The schools are still at the old locations while our camps are many kilometres away.”
He said forest restrictions have added to their difficulties.
“Many traditional forest routes are no longer accessible and several grazing areas are restricted. We are forced to search for new meadows every year. If our migration route has changed because of climate change and shrinking pastures, then the schools should also move with us. Education cannot remain fixed while our lives keep changing.”
Another parent, Shabana Begum, said she fears her children may never escape poverty without education.
“We never went to school ourselves, so we always dreamed our children would have a better future,” she said. “Every year they carry books on their backs along with blankets and food, believing they will study in the mountains. But months pass without a single lesson. It breaks my heart when my daughter asks why no teacher has come.”
Holding back tears, she added, “We don’t ask for big buildings or expensive facilities. Send one teacher with every five or ten migrating families. A teacher can change the future of an entire community. If our children lose six months of education every year, how will they ever compete with other students?”
Residents say climate change has also increased encounters with bears and leopards, making long walks to distant seasonal schools even more dangerous. Access to healthcare remains equally difficult, with pregnant women, elderly people and sick children often travelling for hours before reaching the nearest medical facility.
To support migrating communities, the Jammu and Kashmir government has introduced mobile services using the Indian Tribal digital platform and GIS mapping to identify migratory routes and deliver seasonal schools, healthcare camps, vaccination drives and other services. However, many families say these services often fail to reach newly established grazing sites because migration routes have shifted significantly due to changing climatic conditions.
Meanwhile an official from the Education Department in North Kashmir while speaking with the Kashmir Despatch, acknowledged delays in deploying seasonal teachers this year.
An official in Bandipora said the district has 51 seasonal education centres and that renewal orders for seasonal teachers were issued only recently.
“The joining orders for seasonal teachers were issued a few days ago, and many may have already reported to their assigned locations,” he said. “I will personally follow up on the matter. We are committed to ensuring that every child from the nomadic community receives uninterrupted education, and I will make sure the issue is addressed.”
For Humaira, however, every passing day without a teacher is another day her dream slips further away. As her family’s flock climbs deeper into Kashmir’s mountains in search of grass that no longer grows where it once did, she waits with her school bag beside her tent—hoping that before the migration season ends, someone will finally come to open it.
