By Kishwar Jahan
In the drawing rooms of northern Pakistan, family discussions used to hold room for a broader map of ambition. Young people talked openly about journalism, local education, architecture, community work, and social sciences. Variety felt normal.
Today, that room has shrunk. Inflation and job scarcity have turned education into a high-pressure race for one safe outcome. Nobody blames parents for pushing children toward medical fields or guaranteed salaried jobs when safety nets are thin, a fixed paycheck looks like armor. Families aren’t being cruel; they are terrified of precarity.
The irony here is how quickly survival fear hardens into a rigid social rule. Society effectively tells young people to pay a heavy tax: trading away their natural aptitude and feeling pressured to sell their knowledge, education, and genuine dreams for a guaranteed entry ticket.
The moment a degree is finished, the familiar interrogation begins: “Kamana shuru kiya hai? Aur kitna kama rahe ho?” (Have you started earning? And how much?) Worse still, if someone chooses to specialize or continue higher studies instead of rushing into a dead-end job, the reaction comes in: “Kab se parh raha hai? Khatam hi nahi ho rahi iski parhai!” (How long has he/she been studying? It never ends!) Education gets treated like a transactional item meant to cash out immediately, rather than a lifelong journey of depth.
Students who genuinely love writing, teaching, architecture, community organizing, or research are told those paths are luxuries they cannot afford. Bright minds with different natural abilities get funneled into high-yield fields purely out of fear, planting silent burnout years down the line. Meanwhile, those who try to hold onto unconventional paths face constant skepticism at family gatherings, labeled as “impractical,” and mocked when early career friction hits.
Let’s be clear: medical and high yield fields are noble and hardworking. The goal is never to belittle any profession. The real issue is the death of pluralism.
A thriving society cannot survive in one direction alone. Mountain economies need passionate teachers, grounded researchers, independent entrepreneurs, and sharp local writers. When an entire generation chases the exact same goal simply because it pays early, society loses its balance. Graduates flood one market while crucial gaps remain empty elsewhere.
Mental peace matters just as much as a monthly salary. If a person spends thirty years in a job they never wanted, that silent frustration trickles down to how they live and raise the next generation.
Education should give wings to fly and the confidence to tackle future hurdles, yet societal pressure forces youth to silence their inner voice and sideline their true abilities.
Rather than locking people into a single hallway, education must open doors. Families and schools need to champion real aptitude over herd mentality, remembering that success isn’t about how fast you join a crowded race, it’s about building a meaningful life from your actual strengths.
It is time to call off the rat race and let young people breathe, choose, and grow.
Kishwar Jahan is a researcher and community mobilizer based in Chitral.
