Photo Courtesy: Image by Tumisu from Pixabay | For representational image
Hanso Chang
High School 'B' Tuensang
Whether it rains or the sun shines, whether it is midnight or early morning, thousands of aspiring candidates across Nagaland continue to study, prepare and compete for a handful of government jobs.
Some come from well-to-do families, while others come from households where every rupee matters. Some have access to good study materials, coaching and stable internet connections; others prepare with whatever resources they can afford. Yet, despite these differences, they share one thing in common: hope.
They wake up early, study late into the night and spend months and sometimes years preparing for competitive examinations. They sacrifice social life, postpone personal plans and continue believing that their hard work will eventually open a door.
Then comes an advertisement announcing just 11 vacancies in NSSB.
For thousands of educated young people, such an announcement is not merely a recruitment notification. It is a painful reminder of how narrow the formal employment opportunities have become.
If thousands of candidates are competing for only 11 posts, the ratio can easily become something close to one post for hundreds of aspirants. Behind every application number is a real person—a graduate, a parent’s son or daughter, someone carrying family expectations and someone hoping for financial stability.
The question therefore goes beyond one recruitment advertisement.
What is happening to employment opportunities in Nagaland?
Every year, colleges and universities produce thousands of graduates. Young people are repeatedly told that government employment is not the only option. That is certainly true in principle. A healthy economy should provide opportunities through the private sector, entrepreneurship, industries, skilled employment, tourism, agriculture, technology and other avenues.
But telling young people to “look for other options” is not enough.
The more important question is: Where are those options?
If a young graduate wants to start a business, access to capital can become a major barrier. Bank finance may require documentation, collateral, guarantees, credit history or other conditions that a first-time entrepreneur may struggle to satisfy. Someone from a financially weaker family may have the ambition and ability to start a business but lack the assets needed to obtain financing.
And even when a young person manages to secure a loan, taking on debt without a reliable market, infrastructure or business ecosystem can itself become a significant risk.
This creates a difficult cycle.
Study hard → graduate → prepare for government examinations → compete with thousands → wait for another notification → apply again.
Meanwhile, years can pass.
This is not an argument against competitive examinations or government recruitment. Government posts will always be limited, and selection must necessarily be based on merit and the prescribed rules.
But it does raise a larger policy question: Is the government creating enough alternative pathways for educated young people to build sustainable livelihoods?
Employment cannot be measured only by the number of government vacancies announced. The broader health of an economy is also reflected in whether a young graduate can realistically find decent private employment, start an enterprise, acquire marketable skills, access affordable credit, or build a livelihood without having to depend almost entirely on government recruitment.
The frustration among aspirants should therefore not simply be dismissed as disappointment over not getting a government job.
For many families, a stable government position represents predictable income, social security and the ability to support parents and siblings. In an economy where stable employment opportunities may appear limited, government recruitment naturally becomes highly attractive.
That is why an advertisement for 11 posts can generate enormous anxiety among thousands of candidates.
The real issue is not that every candidate should get a government job. That is neither possible nor sustainable.
The real issue is whether Nagaland can create an economic environment in which failing to secure a government post does not feel like the end of the road.
Young people should have multiple doors to knock on—not one door with thousands standing in line.
Nagaland's young people do not lack ambition. They are already proving that through the countless hours they spend preparing for examinations, working, studying and trying to build a future.
What they need is not merely another motivational speech telling them to “work harder.”
They need more pathways.
Because behind every one of those 11 posts are thousands of candidates.
And behind those thousands of candidates are thousands of families, dreams, sacrifices and years of preparation.
Eleven vacancies may be a number on a government advertisement. But for thousands of young people, it represents a much larger question: where does our future lie if there are simply too few opportunities?
That is a question Nagaland cannot afford to ignore.
