I am neither a columnist nor a writer. I am a photojournalist from Kashmir who has been working for a national newspaper in the Delhi-National Capital Region for the last five years. I’m writing this article to give you an insider’s perspective on the attitudes of those responsible for presenting an unbiased picture to their readers in the world’s largest democracy.

Kashmiri = terrorist

When it comes to Kashmir, many of my fellow journalists operate using a set of preconceived notions that are often aligned with the Indian government’s position on the state and its decades-long conflict.

Though there are those with open minds too, several fellow journalists equate Kashmiris with terrorism and violence. A sense of otherness is constantly at play and comes to the fore not just when they report on Kashmir, but in interpersonal interactions too.

For instance, when I first came to Delhi in 2012, my fellow journalists would call me “Kashmiri aatankawadi (terrorist)”. It was always said in jest, but left a bad taste in my mouth as someone who has grown up in a heavily militarised region where violence, often state-sponsored, is a fact of life.

When Afzal Guru was executed in 2013, a comment by a fellow journalist touched a nerve: “Aaj tumhe bohat dukh hoga, kyun ki tumhare bhai ko aaj phansi di gayi (You must be very sad because your brother was hanged today.)”

At a police press conference recently, I was photographing weapons and live cartridges seized during a raid when a journalistic colleague remarked, “Tumhare yahan to kilos main hote hain, yeh toh kuch nahi nahi hai (Where you come from, you must have seen these by the kilo. This is nothing.)”

Another senior colleague casually recommended a form of socio-cultural invasion of Kashmir as a way of countering the “ill-effects of Article 370 [which gives special autonomous status to Jammu and Kashmir]”. The colleague said: “Kashmir main UP-Bihar se logon ko basaana chahiye tab jaake Kashmiriyon ko samajh aayega (Kashmir should be inundated with people from UP and Bihar to teach the Kashmiris a lesson.)”

‘The IB should investigate you’

Delhi’s prejudices often make news. Whether it is people from the North East or from African nations, anyone who looks different or behaves differently is treated as the other, and is fair game for taunts, jibes and threats of, and actual, violence.

Kashmiris are subjected to all this as well as an additional layer of patriotism-related outrage, which is something that my fellow journalists possess in vast quantities. They do not hesitate to air this outrage on platforms ranging from prime time television to social media, often giving the impression that they are soldiers of the Indian Army rather than the fourth pillar of Indian democracy.

After the recent killing of Hizbul Mujahideen commander Burhan Wani in an encounter in Kashmir, my social media timeline erupted with exultant messages and status updates posted by elated members of the Indian news media.

Since Kashmir was placed under an internet lockdown almost as soon as the news of Wani’s death broke, views from the Valley were under-represented.

I was in Srinagar when Wani was killed, and experienced firsthand the spontaneous outpouring of grief of an oppressed people who consider Wani to be a hero.

Street protests were handled with a heavy hand, as is the norm in Kashmir.

When I shared some posts about the situation on the ground on my Facebook account, in response, a colleague insinuated that his “Kashmiri friends” needed to be taught a lesson and “investigated by the Intelligence Bureau”.

Worse, there were journalists who found a malicious humour in the tragic situation developing in the Valley. A senior journalist who works with a national news network, in a remarkably insensitive tweet, called Wani “a pig” that had been bagged by the forces. Another TV anchor stated that his corpse should be burnt with garbage.

Of course, not every Indian journalist is like this, but there are enough of them to worry those who believe that the media should be free from the blinkers of jingoistic nationalism.

Many journalists become Kashmir experts by visiting the Valley for a few days and collecting sound bytes at Srinagar’s Lal Chowk. Without any idea of what it is like to live under a brutal regime, they comment on matters as complex as why a Kashmiri does not readily consider himself or herself an Indian.

When suspicion is the norm

As a Kashmiri photojournalist, working in and around Delhi is challenging. Wherever I go, I am conscious of being regarded with suspicion. I am stopped and questioned during assignments and while covering news events much more than any of my fellow journalists just because of the way I look.

If my cameras are visible, I might be spared, but if I am carrying them in a bag, I can almost feel the misgivings of those I meet.

A couple of years ago, I was in Ayodhya with a reporter on an assignment. I was stopped by a couple of plainclothes policemen at a tea shop and interrogated. On hearing that I was from Kashmir, one of them pulled out his notepad and proceeded to take down my personal details while not even glancing at the reporter who was with me.

In the aftermath of Burhan Wani’s killing, more than 35 young people have lost their lives, around 1,500 have been injured, of which there are almost 100 people, including children, with serious eye injuries due to the indiscriminate use of pellets against protestors by security forces.

The reaction of many journalists to these tragedies is shocking, to say the least. If they can have such a callous attitude towards people they consider to be Indian, and therefore their own, I wonder how they will cover a war.

Will they be able to put their patriotism aside and contribute to unbiased reportage?

How can India truly call itself a democracy when so many of its journalists, crucial to the functioning of any democracy, are hamstrung by their own prejudices?

The views expressed here are the author’s and not representative of his organisation in any way. His Twitter handle is @burhaankinu.