'Often people outside paint a wrong picture of us of Kashmiris. We are not like that.'
We are cool and bindaas,' said the lady, a teacher, caressing my cheeks in the pressing crowds.
August 15, Independence Day 2025
Bakshi Stadium, Srinagar
On an unusually hot day in Srinagar, we are among the many people making our way to the Bakshi stadium, the official venue for Independence Day flag hoisting in Kashmir.
"Get off here and just follow the crowd," says Owais, the taxi driver dropping us near the Jawahar Nagar gurdwara, some distance away from the stadium as no private vehicles are allowed further.
With Aadhar cards, phone and wallet inside a ziplock bag, we walk the 15 minutes distance to the venue named after then J&K prime minister Bakshi Ghulam Mohammad who ousted Sheikh Abdullah in a midnight coup to seize Kashmir's top post in 1953.
In about 30 minutes, Sheikh Abdullah's grandson Omar Abdullah is to unfurl the national flag in the stadium, the first chief minister in eight years after the annulment of Article 370 and winning the assembly election in the Union Territory of J&K last year.
As people in groups walk past, chatting with ease, J&K police, Central Reserve Police Force personnel -- both men and women, intimidating assault rifles in hand -- keep vigil on the sidewalks. Armoured vehicles, ambulances are parked by the stadium walls.
On Tuesday, August 12, CRPF boats and shikaras fluttering with the Triclour had criss-crossed the shimmering waters of the Dal Lake to celebrate India's 79th year of freedom.
The famed clock tower in Lal Chowk at the heart of the capital was lit up with the Tiranga on top.
"Before 2019, they (the separatists) would put the Pakistan flag here on the eve of Independence Day, not anymore," says a local resident, sitting under a canopy on a rain-washed Lal Chowk as a handful of tourists shoot pictures undeterred by the incessant rain.
There is a thrill to be in iconic locations that have a place in the national consciousness.
To witness the national flag.
To stand under it.
The Tricolor has been strung to the stately lamp posts along the Dal Lake and a line of trees have their trunks painted in the colours of the flag.
"You have chosen the wrong time to go to Kashmir. There will be increased security and your movement will be restricted because of Independence Day," some friends had advised, but we took our chance and decided to spend I-Day in Kashmir.
And what a good decision it turned out to be.
There was no restriction on movement. The only place where we were stopped a day before I-Day was at a Border Security Force check-post before the Chashme Shahi garden. We had to get off the car, put our handbags through a scanner and then walk past a BSF post where a trooper asked where we had come from.
While as we made our entry at Bakshi stadium draped in national colours, J&K police personnel make all entrants go through a security check.
I see women with bags and realise I could have brought my bag along instead of carrying my stuff in a kitchen-used ziplock pouch, but not that it mattered.
There were no mobile jammers. Sending live pictures/videos to the Rediff newsdesk in Mumbai was as easy and fluid as it is anywhere.
The stadium is full up. On our side, women dominate the ranks. Sitting behind me on the stadium steps are three J&K policewomen in khaki salwar kurtas.
Next to them are large groups of teachers and staff from government schools. Pharmacists in lab coats, volunteers from the National Service Scheme and people with IDs around their necks presumably from different departments of the government.
Talk going around was that government staff had been told to be present for the Independence Day celebration.
There are little children dressed in the national colours. Two young boys in our wing sell paper flags. A school helper says she left home at 5 am to reach the stadium at 6 am.
The parade ground has marching contingents from the J&K police, CRPF, National Cadet Corps and several schools. Girls comprise a sizeable number in the parade.
Omar Abdullah, who had cancelled the cultural celebration at the Bakshi stadium event and the I-Day reception later on Friday evening because of the Kishtwar tragedy the previous afternoon, unfurls the flag and is given a guard of honour.
Dressed in a white salwar kurta, grey waist coat and traditional Kashmiri cap, Omar then delivers an impassioned address focused primarily on the demand for full statehood for J&K.
"I was hoping that PM Modi would announce statehood for J&K in his I Day speech," he says in a speech mixed with Hindi-Urdu.
"I was made to understand that the order was ready on paper, but nothing happened," he continues and points out that he did not wish his fate as on any other CM.
Being the CM of a UT is "Like tying the front legs of a race horse and making him to run."
Referring to the Supreme Court observation the previous day that incidents like the Pahalgam terror attack could not be ignored while considering statehood, he asks, "Will the enemy country decide when we can be a state?"
"From Kathua to Kupwara, people denounced the (Pahalgam) attack, in every village, in every home," says Omar as his father former chief minister Dr Farooq Abdullah, ex-CM Mehbooba Mufti, Director General of Police Nalin Prabhat and Omar's young sons sat among the VIPs.
Many believe that the fourth generation of Abdullahs will be entering politics soon.
Omar's speech is followed by the parade, halfway through which the crowds are restless to leave.
Many have already started making their way out to beat the rush, but there is no way around the stern J&K police personnel.
The gates are not opened till the band stops playing, the parade ends and the VIPs leave.
By then a mass of people, mostly women, have gathered at the nearest exit. The crowd is alarming, yet barring a couple of pushes, the people remain calm.
The only person who is anxious and uneasy is me.
"Don't get scared," says the lady in front, as she turns around.
"Hope you liked the event and are enjoying Kashmir. Often people outside paint a wrong picture of us of Kashmiris. We are not like that. We are cool and bindaas," says another lady, a teacher, caressing my cheeks in the pressing crowds.
Just then the gates are thrown open and people hastily make their way out of the stadium.
Waiting for the taxi opposite the gurdwara, we chat with a CRPF trooper on duty who had been posted for the Amarnath Yatra in Kashmir from Odisha. He had served previously in Kashmir for five years, from 2016 to 2021.
"In 2016, one could not stand here like I am. Boys used to come out from anywhere and hurl stones. Some of my colleagues sustained injuries, luckily I didn't," says the trooper, a Gujarat native.
"Not so any more. Things have improved. I also sense a change among the people."
Photographs curated by Manisha Kotian/Rediff
Feature Presentation: Aslam Hunani/Rediff