Kashmir’s Ego Epidemic

Pride is a silent parasite. It doesn’t scream, but it destroys; slowly, quietly and relentlessly. It eats away at the heart of individuals and societies. Here in our Kashmir Valley, it is not just a personal trait, It has become a social epidemic. Whether it’s a clerk with a government job, a doctor in a hospital or an officer in an administrative post, the moment someone gains a slight worldly advantage, they begin to think of themselves as superior. This arrogance has become so deeply ingrained in our daily interactions that we rarely even recognise it as a problem anymore. But in truth, it is not just a problem; it is a spiritual crisis.

Pride is not just disliked but it is despised by the Almighty. In Islam, the first sin ever committed wasn’t murder, theft, or immorality. It was pride. When Allah created Prophet Adam (peace be upon him), He instructed the angels to bow before him. All obeyed, except Iblis, who arrogantly declared, “I am better than him. You created me from fire and created him from clay” (Surah Al-A’raf 7:12). His arrogance became his downfall. Despite his long record of worship, he was expelled from divine grace, condemned not for denying Allah, but for thinking he was above HIS’s command. Further the Holy Quran mentions “He refused and was arrogant and became among the disbelievers” (Surah Al-Baqarah 2:34). This story was revealed even before obligations like prayer and fasting were laid down. It was a divine warning with clear message pride ruins everything, even the best of deeds. Christian tradition also echoes this truth. The fall of Satan is associated with his desire to elevate himself above God. In Isaiah 14:14, Satan is quoted as saying, “I will ascend above the tops of the clouds; I will make myself like the Highest.” While this verse originally addressed the king of Babylon, Christian interpretation links it with the prideful fall of Lucifer. The message is the same that Arrogance leads to destruction, no matter how high one rises.

Arrogance, when rooted in success is perhaps one of the most subtle yet damaging flaws in society. It doesn’t appear overnight it grows silently as titles are earned, uniforms are worn, and respect is received. This phenomenon is not limited to officers or bureaucrats, it extends to doctors, engineers, administrators and other professionals whose roles are critical to the functioning of a society. It’s ironic that officers, who are very much a part of the society and have grown up in its streets, begin to distance themselves from it once they gain status. The same streets they once walked without hesitation now seem beneath them. After becoming officers, they cover their noses with handkerchiefs to avoid the smell of the very places they came from. What once felt normal suddenly becomes unpleasant. Success convinces them they are now superior. This sense of superiority, often driven by ego or pride symbolically described as an association with Satan blinds them. They begin to see themselves as special apart from others. They look down on old friends, viewing them as failures rather than companions from a shared past. Eventually, this arrogance seeps deeper. They even stop greeting elders, losing the humility and respect they once had.

With the rise of social media, the arrogance of certain professionals once confined to private spaces is now publicly visible. Some officials, particularly a few in the medical field, have begun to showcase behaviour that reflects not just a lack of empathy, but a troubling superiority complex. While many doctors uphold the dignity of their profession with compassion and humility, a few see themselves as part of a “superior class” treating patients with condescension rather than care. Their arrogance doesn’t stop at the clinic door it spills onto social media platforms where they mock the very people they are meant to serve.

One recent post I came across illustrates this perfectly. A doctor shared an encounter with an elderly woman who asked in her own innocent way, whether she could take a “Shaalkaak” tablet, referring to “Shelcal,” a calcium supplement. Rather than responding with understanding, the doctor exaggerated the incident, adding dramatic flair and a mocking tone, as though he were some kind of “Tees Maar Khan”. The post was met with laughter online, but it revealed a deeper issue, a lack of respect for patients and their limitations.

This isn’t an isolated case. There are countless stories and incidents where doctors interrupt patients, dismiss their concerns, or openly belittle their understanding, simply because they are not medically educated. These professionals seem to forget that medicine is not just about knowledge, but about communication, empathy, and trust.

Unfortunately, this attitude is not limited to some doctors. Similar behaviours can be observed in other professions, where individuals in positions of power or expertise treat the average person with impatience and disregard. They forget that their knowledge is meant to serve, not to belittle. Social media has become a window into these mindsets—and it’s revealing more than just arrogance. It’s showing us the urgent need to restore humility, respect, and humanity to all professional spaces.

In the Kashmiri language, we have a powerful phrase that captures this irony: “Harre chu Khuda, Te Bonne chus Bie” which means “God is in the sky, and I am on the Earth.” This sarcastic expression highlights how many people start behaving as if they are divine once they gain a little power. They forget their roots. They forget that they too will be buried in the same earth as the rest of us.

I am reminded of a profound couplet by a poet from our land.

“YATTE TE MAE CXEE, TA TTE TE MAE CXEE, MAE CXEE KARXEM GULZAR.”

This couplet carries two meanings. In the first, it is a heartfelt prayer to the Almighty: “You are with me here in this life and You will be with me there in the hereafter so you make my life and afterlife a blooming garden.” It is a tender dua, a request for divine companionship and mercy. But the second meaning, deeper still, comes from a play on the word “mae cxee” which in Kashmiri also means soil. The poet says: “Here is soil, and there (after death) is also soil—so make this soil a garden for me.” It is a reminder that everything in this world is temporary, rooted in soil, and ends in soil. What we wear as pride today will one day be worn away by the dust of our graves.

This poetic message should shake every arrogant heart, everything in this world is fleeting. No title, no power, no success is eternal. We are all just travelers through this world and the real destination is the grave. The question we must ask ourselves is not how much we earned or achieved, but what will our soil say about us? Will our grave be a place of peace and blessings or will it reflect the arrogance we carried? Our Prophet Muhammad ﷺ said, “Whoever has an atom’s weight of pride in his heart will not enter Paradise” (Sahih Muslim). And the Qur’an states, “Indeed, Allah does not like the arrogant, the boastful” (Surah Luqman 31:18). These aren’t just religious phrases but they are alarms ringing for our benefit.

Let us not allow arrogance to make us enemies of our own society and strangers to our own people. Let us not walk the road of Iblis, whose pride led to eternal ruin. Let us instead walk the path of humility of service of remembering that what we do in this life will reflect in our soil. Leave the egos in your pockets, and start thinking of the ways by which your soil will turn into a garden (Gulzar). That is the legacy worth striving for. That is the greatness that endures.

 Peerzada Mohsin Shafi, from Anantnag, J&K, holds an M. Tech in Infrastructure Development & Management. He is a research scholar, columnist and has authored several research papers on project management and construction. He is a member of ASCE, IAENG, and IIQS.