From Academic Degrees to Shepherd’s Crook

How Jobless Graduates Are Turning to Sheep Farming for Survival and Success in Handwara
Mudasir Kar with his flock of sheep in a village in Handwara, North Kashmir. Photo/Shah Khursheed
Mudasir Kar with his flock of sheep in a village in Handwara, North Kashmir. Photo/Shah Khursheed
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In the remote, hilly village of Bakiakher in Handwara, where dreams often crumble under the weight of limited opportunities, two young men—one an engineering graduate—found themselves battling the relentless grip of unemployment for years. 

With no prospects in sight and desperation mounting, they turned to an unexpected path: sheep rearing. It wasn’t the life they envisioned, nor the future they had once dared to dream of. Yet, against all odds, what began as a reluctant venture has now blossomed into a thriving business. 

The journey, however, was marked by many disappointments and frustrating moments. For Ishfaq Mohiuddin Bhat, whose father is a casual labourer, it began soon after he completed his higher secondary school education about a decade ago. 

From Scholarship Delays to Recruitment Scams

Education, he thought, was his only ticket to a better life. He was fortunate to secure a scholarship through the Prime Minister’s Special Scholarship Scheme (PMSSS) to pursue a B.Tech in Civil Engineering in Faridabad. But delays in scholarship disbursement almost forced him to quit several times. Each time, he managed to borrow money and pursue his dream of becoming an engineer, which he eventually never became despite completing his degree in 2017. 

“There were no jobs in the market. With no other options, I took up a teaching job at a private school, earning a meager 3,500 rupees a month, out of which 3,000 went towards repaying the loans I had taken to complete my education. It was a lot of hard work, but the returns were meagre, and I was still empty-handed,” he recalls.

In November 2018, he found a glimmer of hope when some Jammu & Kashmir bank advertised posts and he applied for a bank associate position. In April 2019, he sat for the competitive test for the position. “I had spent many a sleepless night preparing for the exam, and I performed very well. I was convinced that this would mark a turning point in his life,” Bhat recalls. 

After a wait of almost a year, the Jammu & Kashmir government annulled the 1490 advertised posts, quoting infirmities in the process.  “It felt like all the effort and wait was worthless,” Bhat says, his voice still carrying the weight of lost dreams. 

Controversial Marketing Schemes

In the meantime, he also lost his job at the school and was unemployed for three months, leading him to acute mental agony. It was during those days of desperation that Bhat’s friend introduced him to a marketing company called Forever Living Products (FLP). He borrowed money from his mother to attend its introductory meeting and subsequently joined it. 

The investment was big, but the returns were quick and good. For a moment, it seemed like his financial struggles were behind him. But just as quickly as his hopes rose, they were dashed. Considered to be an exploitative scheme, there was lot of resistance within Kashmir to FLP. 

FLP was an American Multi-level Marketing (MLM) company that sold aloe vera-based drinks, bee-derived cosmetics, and dietary supplements. In Kashmir, there was resistance because the company exhibited characteristics of a pyramid scheme - focusing more on recruitment than actual product sales. Their operations in Kashmir included requiring new distributors to purchase products worth at least ₹30,000 to start, with recruiters emphasizing bringing in new members rather than selling products. 

“The money was good, and my debts were cleared,” he recalls, but adds with a sigh, “.... but the emotional toll was unbearable. I was torn between my financial success and the societal backlash including a Muslim cleric’s warning.” He was weighed down by the latter and that short career came to an end. 

Caught In A Vicious Cycle

Bhat’s endless struggles in getting a job resonate with thousands of educated youth dejected by the system where job opportunities are shrinking, recruitment scams further mar their chances and an exploitative private sector keeps them stuck in insecure jobs with little or no returns. 

The challenges are even more profound for those who come from low-income families. By the time they graduate, they are steeped in debt. Bhat was fortunate to get a scholarship, but it was meager and procedural delays compelled him to take loans to complete his degree. 

After quitting FPL, though despondent once again, Bhat was no longer steeped in penury and debt. He soon gathered his wits. His tryst at getting a decent job had yielded nothing in the last few years.

Beginning of Sheep Farming

Instead, he toyed with the idea of low-investment entrepreneurship. His research led him to sheep farming about a year ago. It requires little investment and simple skills to begin with. 

 “You can start small—with just a pair of sheep. They breed twice a year, and over time, your flock grows. The demand for quality sheep is high, and if you focus on good breeds and build strong connections, success is within reach,” Bhat says. 

With just two employees and the support of family, a farm can thrive. But the choice wasn’t easy, says Bhat. 

Once seen as a low-status occupation in the valley, this was never something Bhat had imagined himself pursuing. A decade or so ago sheep farming was considered a job for the uneducated and marginalized. The stigma attached to sheep farming was strong, especially when it came to marriage prospects. 

Many parents in the valley refused to marry their daughters to men involved in sheep farming—not for financial reasons, but because of the relentless nature of the work. Men who chose sheep farming were often seen as failures, people who could not make it in other professions. Even Bhat’s brother objected to his choice.

“At first, I thought of it as a transitory plan," Bhat says. "But as I spent more time working on it, I realise that this could be my path to stability." 

He invested in proper infrastructure, carefully tending to his sheep, and gradually treating the work with the seriousness it deserved. 

The sheep farm requires a spacious area where the animals can move around comfortably without feeling cramped.

 The initial investment for setting up the farm was approximately Rs 14 lakh, with 10 lakh of it financed through a loan under the PMEGP scheme.

Getting a bank loan, Bhat reveals, is cumbersome and an arduous struggle. The hunt for finding a guarantor and wait for the loan approval took about nine months. 

He bought a small farm from a neighbor for Rs 2.5 lakh but the real challenge was about to begin - finding the right space and procuring the perfect sheep.

A sheep might look strong and healthy on the outside, but without careful consideration, it could be a poor investment. Finding someone trustworthy to rely on in such decisions was crucial, as the stakes were high, he reveals.

Over time, his farm began to grow, and today, Bhat owns over 50 sheep. 

What started as a desperate attempt has now become a stable source of income, and Bhat, who once feared he had no future, now speaks with quiet pride. "I couldn’t become what I wanted to be, but I have no regrets," he says. "I’m providing for my family and building something sustainable for the future."

Ishfaq Bhat, another sheep rearer taking care of his flocl in his village in Handwara, North Kashmir. Photo/Shah Khursheed
Ishfaq Bhat, another sheep rearer taking care of his flocl in his village in Handwara, North Kashmir. Photo/Shah Khursheed

Survival & Sustainability

In the village of Bakiakher, 32-year-old Mudasir Ahmad Kar faced his own uphill battle.

A B.Com graduate, Kar had envisioned a stable office job, but reality had other plans. "I couldn’t find a suitable job, and the pressure to support my family was mounting," he recalls. With no opportunities in sight, Kar turned to sheep farming in 2021—a path he had never imagined. 

Starting with just a few sheep, Kar initially saw the venture as a desperate means to an end. "At first, it was just about survival," he says. But as time passed, his perspective shifted. "It wasn’t just about surviving—it was about building something that could last." 

Today, Kar owns over 80 sheep and runs a flourishing business. “But this didn’t come without challenges,” says Kar.

Challenges of Sheep Rearing

"The biggest challenge comes during Chillai Kalan, the harsh winter months. Feeding the sheep in freezing temperatures is a constant struggle. Everything has to be done indoors - from feeding to keeping them warm in temperatures that drop below zero. Every moment feels like a battle against the cold,” he says. 

Bhat adds, “Traditional breeders don’t realize that taking sheep out to graze in these cold winters can severely damage their liver, especially because of the night dew. In summer, shedding their fur is another challenge, though it yields very little financial return. Maintaining their sheds in winter is also difficult because sheep are naturally outdoor animals. That’s why we must preserve enough feed to last them through the two coldest months of the year.”

In the summer, ventilation becomes just as crucial, and the sheep need a safe, sturdy shelter, far from the threat of wild animals or thieves.

 “We often sleep near the farm, with a room close by, to keep a constant watch over them,” says Bhat, adding that they need to be treated with kindness. “Their pain is our pain. After all, they are feeding us.” 

For Bhat, it’s not just a business, it is also about his bond with his sheep. 

After years of struggle, today both Kar and Bhat are satisfied with their achievement. 

Degrees Worth A Piece of Paper

But when they think of their educational degrees and shattered dreams of white collared jobs, they grapple with immense frustration.

Sheep farming gives them a livelihood but not the respect, social mobility and satisfaction that would have come with a job aligned to their qualification and skills.

For Mudasir Kar, his degree is worth no more than a piece of paper. “Where thousands of youths are waiting for an elusive government job or other decent jobs, my chances appear even bleaker,” he says remorsefully.

He recalls seeing pictures of Ph.D. holders forced to sell street food for livelihood. One can call it resilience, but that image haunts me. It points out to the disturbing and grim reality that youth are caught in,” he says.

Ishfaq Dar is weighed down by similar thoughts. But he hasn’t given up hope.

"Once my economic situation improves," he says, "I'll focus on competitive exams."

But for now, that dream feels distant, clouded by the harsh reality of limited resources. For now, it is him and his bleating sheep in a sleepy village farm.

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