By; Idrees Wani
There is something about VIP culture in Kashmir that has always bothered me.
It is not just the sight of a convoy moving through the streets, or traffic being stopped because an important person is passing. What bothers me is the feeling that comes with it — that some people seem to matter more than others.
I have grown up seeing this around me. Most of us have, at some point, been stuck in traffic because a convoy was passing. Ordinary vehicles are stopped, people are made to wait, and someone important moves through without having to worry about the traffic behind them.
For the person sitting inside the convoy, it may be a routine journey. For an ordinary citizen, however, those few minutes can mean reaching work late, missing an appointment, getting delayed at a hospital or simply wondering why the rules appear to be different for different people.
I understand that security in Kashmir is a serious matter. We cannot ignore the security situation or the responsibilities of the police and administration. There are people who genuinely need protection, and there are situations where traffic restrictions are unavoidable.
But there is a difference between necessary security and unnecessary VIP treatment. Sometimes, that difference seems to get blurred. The real problem with VIP culture, in my view, is not the convoy itself. It is the mindset behind it. Public officials are, after all, public servants. They hold positions because public institutions need people to serve the public. But somewhere along the way, public service can start looking like privilege.
This becomes most visible when ordinary people are made to wait. Think of a student rushing to an examination, a patient trying to reach a hospital, a worker trying to get to work, or a parent trying to pick up a child. Ten or fifteen minutes may not sound like much when looked at from an office or a convoy. But for someone already running late, those minutes can matter.
I have personally experienced situations where traffic was held up because of VIP movement. What stayed with me was not just the delay, but the reaction of the people around me. People become frustrated. Some ask why they are being stopped. Others simply remain quiet because they know there is little they can do.
That silence says a lot. Kashmir already has enough distance between ordinary people and institutions. We do not need to create more of it through unnecessary displays of power and status. When people see a convoy being given priority while hundreds of citizens are made to wait, it creates a feeling that the administration is far removed from the people it is supposed to serve.
And perhaps that is the biggest problem with VIP culture. Democracy is not only about elections. It is also about how institutions treat ordinary citizens on an ordinary day. Our Constitution is built on the principle of equality. Article 14 guarantees equality before the law and equal protection of the laws. This does not mean that everyone must receive exactly the same security arrangements. Genuine security concerns can require different arrangements for different people.
But official position should not become a reason for unnecessary or excessive privilege. As a law student, I find this distinction important. The rule of law cannot simply mean that ordinary citizens must follow rules. It must also mean that those who exercise public power remain within the law and are accountable for how that power is used.
Security arrangements should therefore be based on actual security needs. They should be reasonable and proportionate, and public inconvenience should be kept to the minimum necessary. A senior government officer, elected representative or other protected person may have genuine security requirements. There is nothing wrong with providing that protection. The problem begins when security becomes an excuse for excessive inconvenience. If a road needs to be restricted temporarily because of a genuine security threat, most people will understand. What becomes difficult to accept is when protocol appears to become more important than the public.
I also think we need to change the way we look at status. In Kashmir, as elsewhere, there can sometimes be an unnecessary fascination with official cars, escorts, special access and the appearance of power. People notice who has how many vehicles behind them, who gets a clear road and who is allowed to go where others cannot. But what should really earn respect is the work a person does.
A good officer should be remembered for solving people’s problems, not for how many vehicles accompanied him. An elected representative should be judged by the issues he raises and the work he does, not by how easily his convoy moves through traffic. Authority should come from responsibility and performance, not from visible privilege. At the same time, I do not believe that every security arrangement should be called VIP culture.
Kashmir has its own security challenges, and the police, security forces and civil administration often have difficult responsibilities. Criticism should therefore be fair and informed. We should question unnecessary privilege without undermining genuine security requirements.
The solution is simple in principle: security where security is necessary, and simplicity where it is not. There should be clear rules about when traffic restrictions are actually required. VIP movements should cause as little disruption as possible. Better traffic management can also help reduce unnecessary stoppages.
Most importantly, officials should understand that causing inconvenience to ordinary people is not a sign of importance. Perhaps we need to remember one basic fact:
The road belongs to everyone.
The student waiting at a traffic signal, the shopkeeper trying to reach his shop, the patient trying to get to a hospital, the employee heading to work and the official travelling in a government vehicle are all citizens. Their time has value. For me, this is not an argument against VIPs. It is an argument against unnecessary VIP culture.
Kashmir deserves institutions that people feel connected to, not intimidated by. It deserves public servants who are close to the people rather than separated from them by layers of protocol. Respect should be earned through service. Perhaps the best sign of a confident administration would be this: when an ordinary citizen sees an official convoy passing by, he does not feel that the road belongs to someone else.
He simply sees another citizen being protected because circumstances require it — while his own time, dignity and rights are respected too. That, to me, would be a healthier meaning of public service in Kashmir.
(The author is a law student at the University of Kashmir and can be reached at [email protected].)
(NOTE: The opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views or opinions of Kashmir Dot Com, its editorial staff, or its affiliates. KDC does not endorse or guarantee the accuracy of any claims made in this opinion piece.)
