In Srinagar, journalists often quip: there's freedom of expression in Kashmir, but no freedom after expression.

During five days of conversations in and around the city, one theme recurs – a deep sense of suffocation. Ask anyone about the state of Kashmir post-abrogation of Article 370, and the response is consistent:

“Yahan bolne ki azadi nahin hai (There’s no freedom to speak here).” “Bolenge toh phone aa jaega (If we speak, we’ll get a call).” “Humain raat ko ghar jana hai, Tihar nahin (We want to go home at night, not to jail).” Yahan ke journalist band hai… (So many journalists here are behind bars).”

And, most commonly: “Yahan sab theek hai (Everything is fine here).”

These cautious phrases, exchanged even during casual walks through Srinagar’s bustling Sunday Bazaar, reveal the pervasive sense of fear: in Kashmir, speaking too freely comes with consequences. This is a region long accustomed to restrictions, whether enforced through strikes, curfews, or the looming threat of militancy. Yet, today’s climate feels distinctly different.

The current situation in Kashmir is unlike the slow erosion of press freedom in mainland India; it is far more severe. Here, journalists speak not of their craft but of surviving an interrogation by one or the other many agencies operating – being asked to come for police verification for the second time in a month, coerced into revealing sources, placed on no-fly lists, or having passports revoked. Some have been interrogated by counterinsurgency forces; others languish in jails under the Public Safety Act or anti-terror laws.

“Ground reporting in one way is criminalised,” said independent Anees Zargar.

The big challenge though of reporting on this intense scrutiny is the silence it breeds. No journalist is willing to go on record, and fewer still offer specifics that could make them identifiable. This deliberate vagueness makes it harder to hold authorities accountable, leaving only the signs of a society slowly slicing itself apart.

Journalists are meant to be fearless and are protected by the Constitution of India. But when those protections fade, the impact ripples far beyond newsrooms. As one man noted, “If mainstream politicians can be jailed, if journalists can be arrested under harsh terror laws, what chance do we have?” They aren’t wrong in this assumption. Journalist Irfan Mehraj, for example, remains jailed under UAPA despite international calls for his release. Irfan was awarded for a documentary on the drug menace in Kashmir he did for DW. 

This is a familiar refrain across the Valley: the jailing of mainstream Kashmiri politicians, activists, and journalists has delivered a clear message to the average Kashmiri – you’re nobody.

Sayed Malik, a veteran journalist and former press officer for the Sheikh Abdullah government, puts it bluntly: “Indian public opinion is surprised when something big happens in Kashmir. That’s because when something is cooking, nobody is allowed to see it.” 

“For lack of a better word, there is no variety in Kashmiri newspapers today,” Malik continues. “You won’t find local news. Privately, newspaper men admit that circulations have dropped.” That is exactly what the hawker near Koker Bazar told us. “pehle 100 percent sale hoti thi ab kuch nahi.”

His words point to a troubling media landscape, where reporting on sensitive local issues has all but vanished, leaving a population disconnected from its own stories. A glance at newspapers like Greater Kashmir and Rising Kashmir tells the story better. 

During the week we were there, the front pages were dominated by quotes from Narendra Modi, Amit Shah, or the Lieutenant Governor. City pages were filled with statements from various leaders, while the editorial sections regurgitated Modi’s speeches, alongside pieces on AI and mathematics. Local news, the pulse of everyday life in Kashmir, was conspicuously absent. The newspapers reflected not the concerns of the Valley, but a sanitised narrative focused on the centre, revealing how the region’s media has been reshaped to echo voices from Delhi rather than its own streets.

Watch the full story on the media crisis unfolding in the valley.