by Gazi Muzamil
Change is inevitable. It can bring progress or decline, but at Kashmir University, change is a paradox. When it occurs, it unfolds at a glacial pace—often after decades—and rarely for the better.
Once synonymous with academic excellence, Kashmir University now makes headlines for all the wrong reasons. Delayed degrees, allegations of nepotism, deteriorating academic standards, rising fees, dwindling enrolment, and exaggerated claims about its NAAC accreditation and other rankings have overshadowed its former prestige. Once the crown jewel of higher education in the region, the university now stands at a critical crossroads.
Declining Reputation
Spending half a decade on its main campus, I have witnessed the slow decay of this institution. It is disheartening to see a university with such a rich history reduced to a shadow of its former self. No conscious Kashmiri who values its legacy can take pride in what it has become. The real concern is not merely the decline in admissions but the erosion of its standing among the people it once inspired.
This historic centre of learning has suffered a dramatic fall in credibility and public perception. Its self-congratulatory rhetoric stands in stark contrast to reality. The university’s National Institutional Ranking Framework (NIRF) position has plummeted from 33rd in 2023 to 45th in 2024. More alarming is its employer and academic perception score—an abysmal 30.53 out of 100, significantly lower than its regional counterparts like Punjab University (69.13) and Jadavpur University (86.62).
If there is one thing Kashmir University does exceptionally well, it is hosting events. Nearly every day, multiple functions take place across departments, many serving little purpose beyond filling the pockets of their organizers. Meanwhile, the question of accountability remains unanswered. Those in positions of authority juggle multiple roles, skilfully evading responsibility when questioned.
The Admission Crisis
In recent years, the university has grappled with an unprecedented crisis: hundreds of postgraduate seats remain vacant across its campuses. If this trend persists, several departments may face permanent closure.
In 2023, approximately 124 postgraduate seats were left unclaimed at the main Hazratbal campus—nearly 5 per cent of the total available positions (2,500–2,600), including self-financed seats. The situation at satellite campuses was even more alarming. The Institute of Technology at Zakura saw 45 vacancies out of 101 seats, while the North Kashmir campus reported 32 unfilled positions out of 290. The crisis was most acute at the South Kashmir campus, where an astonishing 111 seats remained vacant out of 472 across various postgraduate departments.
The university has refrained from disclosing figures for the 2024 admission cycle, a silence that suggests an even graver scenario.
When confronted with these statistics, university officials deflect responsibility, attributing the decline to external factors: post-COVID economic struggles, rising unemployment, limited job opportunities, and the proliferation of higher education institutions in Kashmir. Yet these challenges are not new. What they consistently fail to acknowledge is the role their administrative shortcomings and inefficiencies have played in deepening this crisis.
Neglected Fundamentals
A university thrives because of its students, not the other way around. Yet, those in power at Kashmir University seem to believe otherwise. Students sustain the university through their fees and academic engagement, but in return, they receive an education that consistently falls short of their expectations.
For students, the smallest details matter—elements that may seem trivial to officials disconnected from campus realities. They value an academic environment that fosters free expression rather than stifling it, a space where professionalism is upheld and their rights are respected. They are keen observers, attuned to subtle shifts in the university’s atmosphere, and they recognise when they are being nurtured or neglected.
When classwork resumed on 23 March following the winter break, students returned with enthusiasm, expecting a reinvigorated campus. Instead, they were met with a landscape unchanged since December: dust-covered desks in classrooms abandoned furniture littering departmental lawns, construction debris scattered across pathways, and grounds left untended, strewn with autumn leaves and plastic waste. Adding to their frustration, no timetables had been issued in advance. Many travelled from remote areas at personal expense, only to find their classes had not been scheduled. They left without attending a single lecture.
A stark lack of coordination exists between teaching and administrative departments. The examination block, for instance, completed the evaluation of external papers for the LL.M batch in December, just weeks after the November exam. Yet, to this day, the results remain unpublished because the department has not forwarded the internal assessment scores from exams held months earlier in June and July. Such inefficiencies call into question the legitimacy and responsibility of the university’s academic leadership.
The problem extends to grading practices as well. While there is no universal rule requiring students to earn equal marks, some departments adopt an arbitrary approach. In one premier department, internal assessment scores for two postgraduate papers were unfairly standardised—60 and 30 out of 100 and 50, respectively—for all 40 students, disregarding individual merit and effort.
Beyond academics, the university presents financial and logistical hardships for students. The cost of studying at KU is steep, and even necessities remain inaccessible. While universities in mainland India offer subsidised meals to students, an unofficial “prohibition” on selling rice—the staple food of Kashmiris—exists on campus. The sprawling 247-acre Hazratbal campus, home to thousands of students from diverse socio-economic backgrounds, provides nothing substantial to eat during university hours except tea and paratha. While not every student can afford premium meals, all deserve a balanced diet. The lavish canteens scattered from Naseem Bagh to Sir Syed Gate serve limited, unhealthy, and overpriced options, yet not a single one offers dal-chawal. The university administration must mandate that campus food establishments provide healthier and more affordable alternatives.
Suppression of Student Representation
The absence of student unions remains one of the university’s most pressing issues. At present, students lack an independent collective voice to advocate for their interests. Since 2010, when the Kashmir University Students Union (KUSU) was disbanded, student representation has been systematically discouraged. Recent initiatives like the J&K Students Movement, launched by law students, have faced similar resistance. An RTI filed by student activist Nasir Khuehami revealed that no formal ban exists on student unions at KU—only a 16-year-old verbal directive.
As the heart of the campus, students require a democratic system through which they can organise and assert their rights. However, student activism has been delegitimised for years. Its revival is imperative. The administration’s perception of student collectives as disruptive is not only shortsighted but also counterproductive. An adversarial stance toward students serves no constructive purpose.
Student unions act as the voice of the student body. The university’s inability to produce visionary leaders may well be a consequence of its deliberate suppression of organised student representation.
Professionalism and Faculty Issues
Kashmir University faces a profound crisis in professionalism and work culture, steadily eroding its credibility. The faculty, either outdated in their approach or lacking commitment, often prioritise self-promotion over their teaching responsibilities. In a typical 40-minute class, professors frequently dedicate excessive time to discussing their research papers and achievements rather than engaging students in meaningful discourse.
A deeper malaise pervades the institution: the unchecked pursuit of administrative positions at the expense of teaching and research. In any serious academic institution, a professor’s role is strictly confined to education and scholarship. No true academic would willingly trade teaching for bureaucratic privileges. Yet, at KU, this has become routine. Professors appointed and paid to teach routinely vie for administrative roles, drawn by the benefits—official vehicles, additional allowances, and other benefits. Once they secure these positions, their classroom obligations become an afterthought.
A recent report revealed that over two dozen faculty members at KU have been assigned “additional charge” roles, sidelining their teaching responsibilities. Most prefer these administrative positions, conveniently outsourcing their lectures to contractual faculty. Some hold multiple assignments simultaneously, enjoying the blessing of senior authorities.
Further compounding the crisis is the entrenched culture of extensions and second tenures, which stifles fresh leadership and innovation. Merit-based appointments are frequently sacrificed in favour of reappointing familiar figures. Deans and heads of departments routinely receive extensions beyond the official retirement age of 65. Even the current vice-chancellor serves as a prime example, continuing in office despite having surpassed the age limit.
Meanwhile, research scholars find themselves increasingly exploited by their supervisors. A PhD scholar from the Department of Social Work, speaking anonymously, described the grim reality: “We are more like assistants to our professors than independent researchers. Tasks that have nothing to do with our research work are routinely assigned to us—writing project reports, coordinating events, drafting research papers, evaluating assignments, collecting data for projects, and even taking classes on behalf of our supervisors.” These additional responsibilities disrupt research progress, delaying thesis completion.
As these problems deepen, the university’s reputation continues its decline. The question remains: will Kashmir University recognise its failings before it is too late, or will it persist in its downward spiral, sacrificing its academic integrity at the altar of bureaucratic inefficiency?
Faculty and Administrative Crisis
The acute shortage of qualified and competent faculty has severely undermined the university’s academic standing. Research mentorship is equally deficient, and the absence of professional networks further stifles opportunities for scholars. In the Law Department, for instance, LL.M students are frequently taught by contractual lecturers from entirely unrelated disciplines, leaving them ill-equipped for rigorous legal scholarship.
Beyond faculty shortcomings, the inefficiency and arrogance of non-teaching staff exacerbate students’ frustrations. Simple administrative tasks turn into exhausting ordeals, with students often subjected to indifference and unnecessary delays. Something as basic as obtaining a marks certificate can require multiple visits to the campus, an ordeal particularly punishing for students from distant districts like Kupwara and Shopian. Even a straightforward bonafide certificate can take up to a week due to the clerical sluggishness and careless attitude of staff.
Internal faculty conflicts further erode the university’s academic integrity. Departments often resemble battlegrounds, where personal rivalries and power struggles take precedence over student welfare. Academic governance becomes hostage to these internal disputes, with faculty members engaged in lobbying rather than fostering a constructive learning environment.
One of the most persistent failures of the university has been its inability to conduct timely examinations. For decades, delays in exams have resulted in postponed results, unnecessarily prolonging degree completion. A postgraduate course meant to be completed in two years routinely stretches into three, disrupting career plans and leaving students in limbo.
The only significant improvement in recent years has been the introduction of the Single Window System in the Examination Block, sparing students the ordeal of running from one system engineer to another. However, despite this reform, the system remains inefficient. Online student support is practically non-existent, and offline grievance redressal is painfully slow and unprofessional.
The campus itself often resembles a high-security zone rather than a space for intellectual pursuit. The heavy presence of police personnel creates an atmosphere that feels more punitive than academic. While security is essential given the university’s location, the overwhelming deployment of uniformed forces fosters unease. KU would do well to adopt security models similar to those of other renowned Indian universities—employing dedicated campus security personnel in distinctive uniforms, present in reduced numbers, ensuring safety without stifling the academic atmosphere.
Perhaps the most damning indictment of the university’s decline is that even its faculty members discourage students from enrolling. When a professor openly advises an aspiring student to seek admission elsewhere, even dissuading them from joining their department, it is an unmistakable sign of institutional decay. Such disillusionment from within speaks volumes, making it evident that urgent reform is not merely desirable but imperative. The question remains: will those in charge take responsibility for reversing this decline, or will the university continue its downward spiral?
Recommendations
Beyond addressing these systemic failures, the university must implement key structural reforms to prevent further academic deterioration. Online classes should be made mandatory during vacations to ensure efficient syllabus completion and avoid unnecessary academic delays. This simple measure would help students graduate on time, mitigating one of the university’s most chronic issues.
A uniform timetable and fixed date-sheets should be introduced for all programmes, including law, technical, and professional courses, with minimal last-minute adjustments. The uncertainty surrounding examination schedules is a recurring grievance that must be eliminated through greater administrative accountability.
Another pressing issue is curriculum development. Many departments persist with outdated syllabi that fail to reflect contemporary academic and technological advancements. To remain relevant, KU must prioritise syllabus revisions that align with global standards and industry requirements, equipping students with the knowledge and skills necessary for the modern world.
Equally important is the need to professionalise the non-teaching staff. Regular training sessions on work ethics and student engagement should be conducted to ensure that university employees uphold the standards of efficiency and respect that students rightfully deserve.
The university is in dire need of decisive leadership—one that can navigate the institution away from bureaucratic inertia and towards academic excellence. Without strong, committed leadership and a concerted effort from both faculty and administrators, KU’s institutional reputation will remain in freefall.
If the university hopes to reclaim its former prestige, it must prioritise academic rigour, research quality, and student welfare over administrative complacency. The solution lies in immediate, comprehensive reforms—not in a hastily drafted rejoinder from the university’s public relations office dismissing these concerns.
(The writer studies at the School of Law, Kashmir University. Ideas are personal.)
