I. Ahmad Wani
Yesterday, on 26 June 2026, as Srinagar observed Youm-e-Ashura — the 10th of Muharram 1448 AH — the old city witnessed something far greater than a traditional mourning procession. What unfolded from the lanes around Botakadal’s Gulshan Bagh to the Imambara at Zadibal was a living, breathing sermon on religious tolerance, human solidarity and the healing power of small, sincere gestures. The black-clad sea of mourners, the rhythmic chest-beating and the soul-stirring marsiyas were there, as they have been for generations. But alongside them walked a different spirit — one that declared, without fanfare, that the blood spilled at Karbala belongs to every conscience that still values truth over tyranny.
Imam Hussain (AS) stood at Karbala not for a sect but for the eternal principles of justice, dignity and resistance to oppression. Yesterday, that message found its most eloquent expression not only in the tears of the faithful but in the hands that offered water, in the banners that flew outside Sunni shops, in the quiet counsel given inside a majlis, and in the footsteps of leaders and commoners from every faith who chose to stand with the oppressed.
Lieutenant Governor Manoj Sinha, a Hindu, joined the Zuljinah procession at Zadibal. He did not merely pay formal tributes. He personally offered water and refreshments to the mourners under the summer sun. In a place where symbols carry immense weight, that simple act of service from the highest constitutional office spoke volumes. Beside him, Chief Minister Omar Abdullah — walking with his advisor Nasir Sogami and MLA Zadibal Tanvir Sadiq — moved alongside the Taziya. Both leaders, rooted in the Sunni tradition, chose presence over protocol. They served water and milk at Sabeels and prayed for lasting peace and communal harmony. Their participation was not political theatre. It was an embrace of the universal message of Karbala that transcends sect and party.
Yet the real story of the day lay deeper — in the streets, the majlis gatherings and the ordinary interactions that no camera could fully capture. In one majlis, a respected Shia leader rose and addressed his community with rare candour. He reminded them that placing names or symbols sacred to Sunni brothers and sisters on T-shirts, Kameez or vehicles was not an act of devotion but a sin that invites fitna and tension. “Avoid it,” he said plainly. “Hussain (AS) never taught us to wound the hearts of fellow believers.” The advice was received in solemn silence. It was the voice of maturity, not fear — a recognition that true love for the Ahl al-Bayt demands respect for every Muslim’s sacred space.
Equally moving was the sight of black banners and flags displayed outside numerous Sunni-owned shops and homes along the procession route. In previous years such displays might have been unthinkable or viewed with suspicion. Yesterday they stood as quiet declarations: the stand of Imam Hussain against Yazid’s tyranny is not the property of any one sect. It belongs to anyone who still believes that power without justice is tyranny, and that silence in the face of oppression is complicity. Sunni volunteers worked side by side with Shia brothers at Sabeels near Nowhatta and Jamia Masjid, offering water and sherbet without asking who belonged to which tradition. One Sunni volunteer captured the spirit perfectly when he said, “There is no Shia or Sunni here today. Imam Hussain is a blessing for every Muslim — and for every human being who values truth.”
Perhaps the most heart-warming scenes came from those who had no ritual obligation to be present yet chose to serve. Members of the Sikh community, true to the spirit of seva taught by Guru Nanak, set up stalls and personally distributed water to thirsty mourners. Their quiet, dignified presence along the route reminded everyone that compassion knows no scripture’s boundary. At another point, respected figures from the Hindu community — including Shri Ashok Koul Ji — joined in offering water and solace. Kashmiri Pandits and other Hindus stood shoulder to shoulder with their Muslim brothers, not as outsiders performing a duty but as fellow Kashmiris sharing in the collective grief and the collective hope.
There was no hostile atmosphere anywhere. No slogans that divided, no incidents that marred the sanctity of the day. The multi-tier security arrangements were visible, yet what dominated was the fragrance of brotherhood. Women and children walked or watched with a sense of safety that older generations once thought impossible during such observances. The procession itself — solemn, disciplined, massive — moved like a river whose waters had finally found a single, peaceful course after decades of separate streams.
For those of us who have lived through darker chapters of Kashmir’s story, yesterday felt like a page turned. There was a time when Shia-Sunni differences in Srinagar could spark friction, when processions carried an undercurrent of apprehension, when external propaganda and internal suspicions kept communities wary of one another. Those chapters now read like stories from another era. What we witnessed on Youm-e-Ashura 2026 was not the absence of difference but the presence of a higher loyalty — loyalty to the shared humanity that Imam Hussain (AS) embodied when he refused to accept humiliation and chose dignity even at the cost of life.
The message that rose from every corner was unambiguous: **We belong to one religion, and that religion is humanity. We stand with the oppressed.** Hussain (AS) does not belong to one sect or one region. His sacrifice is the collective inheritance of all who still believe that truth, when spoken with courage, outlives every tyrant. The black banners outside Sunni shops, the water offered by Sikh hands, the counsel inside the majlis, the footsteps of political leaders walking beside Taziya — all of it whispered the same truth: small gestures, repeated sincerely, have the power to heal wounds that decades of division could not.
This spirit need not remain confined to one day of mourning. The same hands that offered water yesterday can light diyas together on Diwali. The same hearts that mourned together can share sweets and joy on Eid-e-Milad-un-Nabi or any festival of light and love. By these small, consistent acts we come closer to one another. Tolerance is not weakness; it is the only weapon strong enough to erase the mistakes of the past — whether those mistakes were born of fear, propaganda or the calculated divisions sown by those who never wished Kashmir well.
As we move forward in this phase of revival and relative peace in Jammu and Kashmir, let the memory of yesterday’s procession stay with us. Let it remind every Kashmiri — Shia, Sunni, Hindu, Sikh, Pandit or any other — that our greatest strength lies not in what separates us but in what unites us: the refusal to bow before tyranny in any form, and the willingness to stand with the oppressed wherever they may be. Imam Hussain (AS) taught us that dignity is worth every sacrifice. Yesterday, Srinagar taught us that dignity is also found in the simple act of offering water to a fellow human being in grief.
May this spirit endure. May every future Ashura, every future festival, and every ordinary day carry forward the same message: Hussain belongs to us all. And we — all of us — belong to one another.
