Srinagar, Feb. 12 -- The atmosphere in the Mohalla shifted as the festival approached. There was a sense of shared joy and anticipation. Houses were cleaned, new clothes were bought, and the kitchens were filled with the scents of spices and roasting meat. But for me, the excitement was tempered by a growing sense of dread. I knew what the celebration would bring to the land. I sat on my porch watching the preparations. The delivery load carriers arrived more frequently now, laden with goods for the local shops. Every crate was wrapped in thick plastic film.

Every new garment was encased in a clear pouch. The bakery was working double shifts, and the pile of blue bags on Gul Maam's counter was growing by the hour. On the eve of the festi...