Unmukt

Tag: books

  • A Tragic Wake-Up Call: The Life and Loss of Misha Agarwal, and What It Reveals About Our Digital Age

    In an era where social media increasingly defines self-worth and success, the heartbreaking death of Misha Agarwal—a 25-year-old Instagram influencer, entrepreneur, and law graduate—has sent shockwaves through the online community and beyond. With over 358,000 followers, her own cosmetic brand, and aspirations to become a judge through the Provincial Civil Services-Judicial (PCSJ) examination, Misha was the embodiment of a modern, driven young woman.

    Yet behind the carefully curated posts and smiling selfies was a young soul battling an invisible storm. When her follower count began to decline, Misha spiraled into deep depression. Her brother-in-law recounts how she would cry in his arms, asking, “Jijja, what will I do if my followers decrease? My career will be over.” Despite her family’s efforts to remind her of her real-life achievements and limitless potential, the grip of digital validation proved too powerful. In April 2025, Misha took her own life.

    Her tragic death is more than a personal loss—it is a mirror held up to our society. It compels us to ask: What have we made of success, self-worth, and mental health in the age of social media?

    The Digital Mirage

    Social media platforms were once meant to connect and inspire. Today, they have become landscapes of comparison, competition, and constant validation-seeking. For Misha, Instagram was not just an app; it was the world she built—her brand, her audience, her sense of purpose. Like many influencers, she worked tirelessly to engage with followers and grow her digital identity.

    But digital fame is fragile. Algorithms shift, audiences change, and metrics fluctuate. And when those numbers dipped, so did Misha’s confidence. She could not detach her self-worth from her follower count. What she couldn’t see—despite her education, talent, and family’s love—was that her value extended far beyond the screen.

    A Stark Contrast

    What makes this loss even more haunting is the contrast. There are people in the world who do little, who even cause harm or disturbance, and yet go on living without reflection. Meanwhile, Misha—a woman who had already achieved so much, who gave so much—was brought down by a numeric drop on a social platform.

    This contrast begs the question: Where is our generation heading when the decline in online popularity can eclipse real-life success and lead to irreversible consequences?

    What We Must Learn

    Misha’s story must not become just another headline or statistic. It must serve as a loud and lasting reminder. Here are critical lessons we all must carry forward:

    1. Self-Worth Is Not Digital: Your value isn’t based on likes or followers. It’s built through character, contribution, and real-life impact.
    2. Mental Health Is a Priority, Not a Taboo: Depression, anxiety, and burnout must be acknowledged early. Talking about mental health should be as normal as talking about physical health.
    3. Success Is Not a Number: Real success lies in fulfillment, peace, and growth—not in going viral.
    4. Look Beyond the Filter: Influencer life often masks personal struggles. Don’t assume a perfect feed means a perfect life.
    5. Family and Friends Must Stay Close: Pay attention to behavioral shifts. Sometimes a small conversation, a kind word, or timely encouragement can change someone’s path.

    Preventing More Mishas

    To stop more such tragedies, society must shift gears:

    • In Education: Schools and colleges must teach digital literacy and emotional resilience. Young minds must learn to handle the highs and lows of online life.
    • On Social Media Platforms: Instagram and other platforms must take responsibility—reduce emphasis on vanity metrics, offer mental health resources, and promote healthier engagement.
    • At Home: Families need to foster open dialogues. Celebrate real-world success. Normalize therapy and emotional expression.
    • With Policy and Awareness: National campaigns should focus on mental health awareness, especially in the influencer and creator community where the risk is high but the support is low.

    A Call for Change

    Misha Agarwal was more than an influencer. She was a student of law, a founder, a future judge, a loving daughter and sister. Her death is not just a loss to her family but to a society that failed to protect her from the dark side of digital culture.

    We must honor her memory by building a world that recognizes and uplifts individuals beyond their digital personas. A world where no one feels that their identity depends on an app. A world where success is measured by joy, contribution, and growth—not by followers.

    If you or someone you know is struggling, please speak up. In India, helplines like Unmukt Society  Foundation (8178059124) offer free, confidential support. Your life matters—beyond every number, post, or screen. Let us not allow Misha’s story to fade away. Let it be the start of reflection, responsibility, and reform.

  • A Hindu Going to Kashmir: Is It Like Giving a Contract to a Contract Killer?

    A Hindu Going to Kashmir: Is It Like Giving a Contract to a Contract Killer?

    Kashmir, often celebrated as “Paradise on Earth,” remains one of the most controversial and emotionally charged regions in the Indian subcontinent. With snow-capped peaks, serene lakes, and picturesque valleys, the beauty of Kashmir draws millions of tourists every year. But beneath the natural charm lies a complex and dangerous reality that few dare to speak about openly.

    For many observers and victims of the region’s past, there’s a chilling analogy: “A Hindu going to Kashmir is like giving a contract to a contract killer to take your life.” This statement, though provocative, reflects the harsh sentiment rooted in history, terror, and socio-economic contradictions that define modern-day Kashmir.

    The Irony of Economic Support

    It is estimated that over 90% of tourists visiting Kashmir are Hindus—families and pilgrims who come to witness its beauty and visit sacred sites like the Amarnath Cave or Vaishno Devi. These visitors pour crores of rupees into the local economy, keeping hotels, restaurants, transport businesses, and guides financially afloat.

    However, the painful irony arises when the same money is allegedly used—directly or indirectly—to support the very forces that are hostile to them.

    Multiple reports and firsthand accounts have alleged that a portion of the money earned from tourism is funneled toward harboring and funding militants. Terrorists from Pakistan are sheltered in local homes, fed, clothed, and even married into Kashmiri families under the guise of “religious duty” or “jihad.” In some shocking cases, locals have been said to offer their daughters in marriage to jihadists to show solidarity with their cause.

    Jihad and the Targeting of Non-Muslims

    The concept of jihad, as interpreted by radical Islamists, is not a philosophical or spiritual struggle—it’s a violent mission against non-believers. And in the context of Kashmir, the primary targets of such radicalism have historically been Hindus and other non-Muslims.

    The 1990 exodus of Kashmiri Hindus, when thousands were driven out of the Valley through threats, killings, and intimidation, stands as a testament to this violent intolerance. To this day, many Pandits remain in exile, their properties illegally occupied or destroyed, with justice still a distant hope.

    Even in recent years, non-Muslim civilians, including migrant laborers and government employees, have been targeted and killed in terrorist attacks in Kashmir—reminding the nation that the threat is far from over.

    The Chilling Analogy: A Contract to Kill

    When a Hindu visits Kashmir today, the argument goes, they are:

    1. Spending money in a region where a segment of the population holds deeply radicalized beliefs.
    2. Supporting an economy that has, in many cases, shown silent sympathy for separatists and jihadists.
    3. Financing, indirectly, the same ecosystem that supports anti-India narratives and violence against non-Muslims.

    Thus, to many who see this danger clearly, tourism becomes a paradoxical act of self-harm—the same as handing over money to a contract killer to end your own life.

    The Harsh Reality We Must Confront

    This article is not a blanket indictment of all Kashmiris. Not every resident supports terrorism or harbors radical ideologies. But ignoring the substantial portion that does—either out of belief, fear, or passive acceptance—is willful blindness.

    India must address this uncomfortable truth:

    • Can we continue to send our people into an environment that still harbors hostility toward their identity?
    • Is the financial benefit of tourism worth the moral and physical cost if it strengthens the hands of enemies within?
    • And most importantly, can healing and peace truly begin without justice and accountability for decades of violence and betrayal?

    Conclusion

    Kashmir needs healing, justice, and a reckoning with its past. Until then, Hindus visiting the region must weigh not just the risk to their lives, but the deeper moral consequence of empowering those who, in the name of jihad, once expelled and killed their kin.

    In this context, the analogy stands painfully valid:
    A Hindu going to Kashmir may well be giving a contract to a contract killer—unknowingly, but effectively.