Opinion | What Independence Day Looks Like in Kashmir Today

The Kashmir of today is increasingly defined by aspirations for education, employment, tourism, entrepreneurship, development and a normal life. The younger generation wants opportunities rather than uncertainty. It wants classrooms rather than shutdowns, careers rather than confrontation and a future that is not dictated by violence. Perhaps that is why Independence Day looks different today.

In my continuing conversations with ordinary people across Kashmir, I have often found that the most meaningful measure of change is not always found in official statistics or government announcements. Sometimes, it is visible in the everyday experiences of people who have lived through the difficult years and can compare Kashmir then with Kashmir today. This Independence Day, I decided to revisit one such question: how has the experience of celebrating August 15 changed in Kashmir?

Over the years, I have travelled through different parts of the Valley and spoken to people who have no political affiliation and no reason to present a particular narrative. Their answers, though personal, reflected a common theme: for many Kashmiris, Independence Day is no longer associated primarily with shutdowns, fear, violence and uncertainty. Increasingly, it is becoming an occasion in which children, students, institutions and ordinary citizens participate openly.

While in Anantnag, I spoke to YouTuber Firdous Beigh at Sirigufwara, a place that has witnessed some of the darkest years of militancy. “Israar, this place was once a hotbed of terrorism and stone-pelting. I remember that in 2016, there was a cement water channel in the middle of the main chowk, and a Pakistani flag had been painted on it. Look at the place today. You can see the Tricolour around the village, and you don’t hear the slogans that were once common here,” Firdous told me. What appeared to excite him most was not merely the presence of flags, but the participation of children. “Today, schools are conducting rehearsals for Independence Day. Children are putting in their best efforts to secure the first position. Israar, this was difficult to imagine before 2019.” His words reminded me that political changes are often discussed through constitutional provisions and institutions, but their real impact is ultimately experienced at the level of ordinary life.

From Anantnag, I turned towards Pulwama, a district that for years carried the painful image of being one of the Valley’s major centres of militancy. Unable to visit Tumulhalla personally, I called an old friend, Abrar Ul Haq. When I asked him whether he could see a difference between Pulwama before and after 2019, his response was immediate. “Israar Bhai, you don’t know what we have been through in Pulwama. Young minds were influenced by radicalisation, and violence became part of everyday life. Schools would remain closed, businesses suffered and people lived under constant uncertainty. Today, things are functioning normally. From education to business, life has moved forward.” I then asked him about Independence Day.

Abrar recalled an incident from Mitrigam in 2017, when, according to him, children were forced to participate in a Pakistan Independence Day-related procession. “Those boys are grown up today. The difference is that they are now preparing for India’s Independence Day, putting up the Tricolour and participating in rehearsals. That, for me, is the real change.” He paused before adding something that stayed with me. “The challenge was never only to build roads or infrastructure. The bigger challenge was to change the environment in which young minds were being influenced by violence. Today, Pulwama is peaceful.”

From Pulwama, I found myself in Srinagar’s Lal Chowk, one of the most politically symbolic spaces in Kashmir. There, I met a schoolboy in uniform who introduced himself as Faisal, a student of SP Higher Secondary School. He was in a hurry because he was heading to school to participate in a patriotic poetry recital for the Independence Day celebrations. I asked him what he thought about the Tricolour flying from the Ghanta Ghar and whether he remembered what the place was like before 2019. “Sir, I have a lot to say, but I am already late for school,” he said before describing what he had heard and experienced. For him, the significance of Lal Chowk was not simply the flag on the clock tower. It was the ability to stand there without the atmosphere of fear that had once surrounded such occasions. He also spoke about schooling. “I attend school regularly now. Earlier, disruptions, encounters, attacks and other incidents could affect our school routine. Sometimes we would return home early or remain at home altogether.”

That observation perhaps captures the change more simply than any political speech can. A child does not necessarily measure peace through policy documents. He measures it through whether he can go to school, attend a programme, return home safely and make plans for the next day. My journey then took me back towards North Kashmir, where I spoke to my friend Momin Mir from Bandipora.

Momin, who lives in Hajin, recalled how Independence Day and Republic Day were once accompanied by apprehension for many local businesses. “My father is a businessman. We would often receive notices asking us to keep the shop closed on January 26 and August 15. In fact, there were long periods when the shop remained closed because of the situation.” Today, he said, the picture is different. “Look at Bandipora now. Streets are filled with preparations for Independence Day. Children are rehearsing, schools are preparing programmes and the Tricolour is visible in places where such participation would once have been difficult to imagine.” Momin also pointed towards something that was absent from the Kashmir of his childhood: the increasingly visible participation of young Kashmiris in national celebrations through social media. “Have you seen X lately? Kashmiris are themselves posting about Independence Day celebrations. That is also a change.”

Listening to these accounts, I realised that perhaps the most important difference is not the number of flags that can be seen across Kashmir. Flags are symbols. What matters more is what lies behind them. A child participating in a school function, a shopkeeper keeping his business open, students preparing for a poetry recital, families attending public events and young people openly discussing their aspirations represent something much larger than a ceremonial celebration.

Kashmir has lived through decades in which violence and political uncertainty disrupted almost every aspect of ordinary life. Generations grew up witnessing shutdowns, encounters, attacks, threats and the closure of educational institutions. The consequences were not limited to security. Education suffered. Businesses suffered. Families suffered. Most importantly, young minds were exposed to an environment in which violence could be normalised. That legacy cannot disappear overnight, nor would it be accurate to suggest that every problem has vanished. Kashmir continues to face challenges, and peace should never be taken for granted. But the direction of change matters.

The Kashmir of today is increasingly defined by aspirations for education, employment, tourism, entrepreneurship, development and a normal life. The younger generation wants opportunities rather than uncertainty. It wants classrooms rather than shutdowns, careers rather than confrontation and a future that is not dictated by violence. Perhaps that is why Independence Day looks different today. The real transformation is not simply that the Tricolour is visible in more places. It is that many ordinary Kashmiris increasingly feel free to participate in the public life of the country without fear. The mind may not always be the problem. Sometimes, it is the environment in which the mind is shaped. Change that environment, give young people education and opportunity, and the narrative of an entire generation can gradually change.

As Kashmir celebrates another Independence Day, perhaps the most meaningful celebration is not merely the ceremony itself. It is the possibility that a child can attend school on August 15, participate in a programme, carry the national flag, return home safely and dream about what comes next. That, too, is freedom. Wishing everyone a Happy Independence Day.

Israar Shahid is a regular Columnist of The Global Kashmir who writes on Policy Making, Governance, and Society. He can be reached at soulofkashmir1@gmail.com