Srinagar: Two days ago, on July 22, a Jammu and Kashmir Police head constable was shot in south Kashmir’s Anantnag district.Aashiq Hussain Qureshi had been deployed near Lal Chowk on the Anantnag-Kokernag road on Amarnath Yatra security duty. He later succumbed to his injuries.Since then, more than 2,500 suspected Over Ground Workers have been taken into custody during coordinated operations across Srinagar, Anantnag, Baramulla, Budgam, Shopian, Ganderbal and other districts. Army officials have also blasted the houses of two alleged active Lashkar-e-Tayyaba (LeT) militants in Anantnag.In light of recent developments, additional security forces have been rushed to the district, increasing the already heightened levels of army deployment in the region due to the Amarnath Yatra.What are these heightened levels and how do they affect the residents of Kashmir? How do they feel about a system which is not, as we can see, foolproof but exacts significant suffering?§The Amarnath Yatra convoy had already passed and the road ahead was empty. Yet hundreds of civilian vehicles remained frozen on National Highway-44 near Pampore in Pulwama district. The drivers of the halted vehicles were staring at a soldier holding a red flag, waiting for permission to move.Inside the long queue of private and commercial vehicles were patients headed to hospitals, students returning to college, office-goers worried about reaching their offices late, truck drivers carrying supplies, tourists travelling to Srinagar and families visiting relatives. Nobody knew why they were still being stopped. Nobody knew how long the traffic jam would last.Holding the red flag in the middle of the highway was an army officer. When this reporter asked why civilian traffic remained stalled even after the convoy had passed, he replied, “It’s an order we follow.” But no one seems to understand the reason behind this “order.”A day before, on July 22, a Jammu and Kashmir Police head constable, Aashiq Hussain Qureshi, was shot dead in south Kashmir’s Anantnag district. Qureshi was critically injured when attackers opened fire near Lal Chowk on the Anantnag-Kokernag road around 12.30 pm, while deployed on Yatra security duty. He later succumbed to his injuries at the Government Medical College Hospital in Anantnag.As pilgrims move towards the cave shrine, the route is lined with hoardings featuring Prime Minister Narendra Modi, Lieutenant Governor Manoj Sinha and Chief Minister Omar Abdullah, welcoming the yatris (pilgrims) to Jammu and Kashmir. However, beyond these messages of welcome, the same roads tell a vastly different story teeming with commuters waiting behind barricades, delayed journeys and growing frustration over restrictions imposed on civilian movement in the name of security, all the while civilians question the effectiveness of such measures.Until the red flag came down and the soldier blew the whistle hanging from his camouflage uniform, not a single vehicle moved.Some drivers stepped out to smoke. Others rested their heads on the steering wheels, exhausted under the sweltering July sun. Every few minutes, eyes turned towards the soldier, eagerly awaiting the whistle that would finally signal the reopening of the highway.For Kashmiris, waiting has become an annual ritual. Every summer, as the Amarnath Yatra moves through the Valley, under one of India’s most extensive security arrangements, ordinary life draws to a halt. Hospital visits are delayed, office hours are lost, businesses suffer and journeys that would normally take an hour extend for several hours. This year, the practice of holding up commuters during the peak Yatra season sits uncomfortably alongside another reality: the seemingly elaborate arrangement is not foolproof.Blockades and their aftereffectsResidents say the pilgrimage itself is not the problem. It is the prolonged disruption to civilian life, now compounded by the security breach, that leaves them feeling invisible and unprotected.Local Kashmiris face similar stoppages whenever army convoys move along the highway. This year, however, many commuters say the restrictions have become longer and more frequent, even as the promise of safety attached to them grows increasingly uncertain by the day.For 68-year-old Ghulam Rasool, the delays turned a routine hospital visit into an exhausting journey. Rasool had left Kokernag with his family to visit a relative admitted at the Sher-i-Kashmir Institute of Medical Sciences (SKIMS) in Srinagar. The trip, which usually takes around three hours, stretched to nearly five.The prolonged traffic deadlocks, imposed as part of the union territory administration’s extensive security arrangements for the pilgrimage, have triggered widespread frustration among commuters. While authorities maintain that the restrictions are necessary to ensure the safety of one of India’s largest pilgrimages, commuters are questioning what this waiting is actually buying them.“I have lived through these restrictions for decades,” Ghulam Rasool, a resident of K.P. Road, Anantnag, said while waiting beside his vehicle. “But in recent years they have become much stricter than before.”His vehicle had already been stopped four times between K.P. Road and Pampore.Recalling the militancy years, Rasool said that even when attacks on security forces were more frequent, civilian movement was not interrupted for such prolonged periods. “Earlier there were no road dividers and there was always the fear of attacks. Even then, the restrictions were not this strict,” he said.A short distance away, Owais Ahmad leaned against the bonnet of his car while waiting to resume his journey to Srinagar airport to receive a family member arriving from Delhi.Looking at the long line of stationary vehicles, he said the highway had effectively become a “halt line” for civilians. “It has become psychological torture for locals to stop and make way for army convoys and Yatra vehicles,” Ahmad told The Wire.“In one phase, traffic is stopped for army convoys and it doesn’t matter whether you are travelling in the opposite direction. Then comes the Amarnath Yatra, which almost completely freezes civilian movement. It feels like we spend more time waiting on this highway than travelling,” he said. “The highway no longer feels like a road. It feels like a waiting room. Every few kilometres you’re stopped again, for an army convoy, for the Yatra, for another security halt. You plan your day around uncertainty,” Ahmad added.Army personnel guard a road in the Baltal area of Sonamarg during the ongoing Amarnath Yatra, Photo: Junaid Dar.Since the Yatra began, videos showing long traffic queues and halted civilian movement have circulated widely on social mxedia, with several residents expressing frustration over repeated disruptions.For transporters, the delays are measured not only in hours, but also in lost income.Cab driver Sajad Hussain from Srinagar said repeated road closures have made it increasingly difficult to earn during what is otherwise one of the busiest tourist seasons in the Valley. “It has become very difficult to support our families despite the huge tourist footfall in Kashmir,” he said, “I bought this cab on a bank loan and even paying the monthly installments has become difficult.”Before the Yatra, Hussain recalled, he could comfortably complete around three trips between Srinagar and Anantnag in a day. “Now it has become difficult to complete even two trips because so much time is lost waiting on the highway,” he said.Hussain also voiced disappointment with the elected government. “Everyone expected that electing a local government would bring some relief. But it seems they have compromised with the centre for their own comfort and forgotten the miseries of ordinary people,” he said.Among those stranded on the highway was Kalpana, a woman in her 50s from South India, who had planned to spend the day exploring Srinagar after visiting Pahalgam.“I had no idea this would happen,” she told The Wire, watching the line of stationary vehicles. “The army is stopping traffic every five to 10 kilometres. It’s frustrating and it looks like we will reach Srinagar only after half of the day has gone. On one hand, the government is inviting tourists to visit Kashmir, but on the other, these repeated restrictions are causing inconvenience for tourists.”Looking at the long queue of vehicles, Kalpana said she felt particularly sorry for locals who have to endure such disruptions regularly. “For me, it’s just one day. But these restrictions disturb everyone’s plans and locals have to live with this every year. Nobody knows when they will finally be allowed to move,” she said.Kalpana was not alone. Around her, dozens of non-local tourists sat waiting in taxis and private vehicles, their sightseeing plans giving way to uncertainty as civilian traffic remained frozen.Several commuters stressed that their frustration was not directed at the pilgrimage itself. “We too are human beings and deserve some respect,” said Adil, a research scholar. “Nobody is questioning the Yatra or its importance. But why should ordinary people be made to wait for hours when the highway is divided? Sometimes it feels as though we are being treated as if we are standing here with guns in our hands,” he said.Adil added that he regularly travels from Pulwama to Srinagar for research work. A journey that ordinarily takes about an hour often stretches to four due to the Yatra. “I leave home around 10 am in the morning and sometimes reach Srinagar only by 2 pm,” he told The Wire.A security apparatus found wantingThe tighter restrictions and higher scale of deployment come in the backdrop of heightened security following last year’s terror attack in Baisaran, Pahalgam, in which 25 tourists and a local pony rider were killed. The Ministry of Home Affairs had already deployed 670 additional companies of paramilitary forces across the Valley as part of the security arrangements for the Yatra. None of it prevented Wednesday’s (July 22) attack that resulted in Qureshi’s death.A view of hundreds of tents at the Baltal base camp during the Amarnath Yatra, Photo: Junaid Dar.Officials have maintained that the restrictions are intended solely to ensure the safety of pilgrims and security personnel. Many residents, however, describe the measures as excessive, and after yesterday, are no longer convinced by them. What began as a traffic stoppage has become a larger conversation about governance, dignity and whether the balance between security and everyday life in Jammu and Kashmir is even producing the safety it is meant to guarantee.The 57-day Amarnath Yatra began on July 3 and is scheduled to conclude on the festival of Raksha Bandhan on August 28.The issue has also spilled into the political arena, with local politicians criticising the administration for curbs on civilian traffic.Political backlash over administration’s treatment of localsSrinagar MP Aga Ruhullah Mehdi criticised the Omar Abdullah-led government over what he described as its silence on the hardships faced by ordinary Kashmiris. “Kashmiris are orphans and those to whom they give the right to speak on their behalf sell their [Kashmiris’] respect for power,” he said.Ruhullah alleged that residents were being treated like “slaves” and second-class citizens during the Yatra and urged the elected government to raise the issue with the Union government.Referring to the contrast between the uninterrupted movement of pilgrim convoys and the hours spent waiting by civilians on the same road, Ruhullah said the restrictions had left many Kashmiris feeling ignored and humiliated.“On one side of the road, you ferry yatris like princes and kings and on the other, you keep common Kashmiris waiting like slaves under the harsh sun for hours until your own countrymen cross the road,” Ruhullah said, while addressing a gathering in South Kashmir’s Bijbehara.“If the country is the same, the law is the same and the constitution is the same, then why are people treated unequally? Why does one section get a sense of freedom while another gets a sense of slavery?” he demanded.Questioning whether the difference in treatment was linked to religious identity and political affiliations, Ruhullah said, “Is it because one is a Muslim and the other is a Hindu backed by the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) and Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS)?” Ruhullah emphasised that ordinary residents were made to bear the burden of the security arrangements.Pawan Khera calls out pilgrims’ demeaning behaviourBeyond the traffic snarls, this year’s Amarnath Yatra has also generated debate over the conduct of some pilgrims. Videos circulating on social media, which appeared to show groups of yatris raising “Har Har Mahadev” slogans in front of hijab-clad girls, prompted political reactions and calls for greater sensitivity towards local communities.The debate widened after Congress leader Pawan Khera commented one such video.“What could be more absurd than chanting ‘Har Har Mahadev’ slogans right in front of little girls wearing hijabs on the streets of Kashmir? Undertaking the Amarnath Yatra is our religious right. But respecting the sentiments of the people of the land we travel to and their local sensitivities, is an equally great duty. This is the path of Mahadev. The truth is that we talk about religion day and night, but forget its principles first and foremost. Perhaps this is what they call Kaliyug,” Khera wrote in Hindi on X.कश्मीर की सड़कों पर हिजाब पहनी बच्चियों के सामने “हर हर महादेव” के नारे लगाने से ज़्यादा वाहियात और क्या हरक़त हो सकती है?अमरनाथ यात्रा करना हमारा धार्मिक अधिकार है। लेकिन जिस धरती पर हम यात्रा करने जाते हैं, वहाँ के लोगों की भावनाओं और स्थानीय संवेदनशीलता का सम्मान करना भी… pic.twitter.com/BvQhGoqbPe— Pawan Khera 🇮🇳 ಪವನ್ ಖೇರಾ (@Pawankhera) July 15, 2026His remarks were supported by Iltija Mufti, daughter of People’s Democratic Party (PDP) president Mehbooba Mufti, while others accused Khera of politicising the pilgrimage.“Takes guts for a mainstream Hindu politician to rightfully admonish insensitivity towards Kashmiri Hijabi girls. Well said Pawan Khera sahab,” Iltija wrote, while reposting Khera’s post.As another escorted convoy sped past, civilian vehicles remained motionless behind the barricades. Drivers switched off their engines. Children peered through windows. Patients checked the time. Nobody argued with the soldiers. Everyone simply waited, aware that a policeman deployed to guard the same Yatra was killed a miles away.Each summer, the Amarnath Yatra raises the same question in Kashmir: how can one of India’s most important pilgrimages be protected without bringing ordinary life to a standstill? This year, it demands the question whether the extensive machinery of red flags, army convoys and now mass detentions is even delivering the security it claims to or whether it only succeeds in making civilians wait, and then, when it fails, making them suspects.For many residents, the grievance was never the Yatra, but the feeling that their own lives, journeys and time have become secondary to an apparatus that could not, in the end, shield them from violence. On NH-44, that feeling lives in the hours spent waiting for a red flag to come down.