Caught in the most challenging and conflicting of situations, you had to be prepared to come under fire anytime. As danger lurked, the security forces would never miss telling you whenever you asked their permission to venture into hard-target areas: "The IED threat is there. A blast can occur any time." You were, however, ready for such risks. With every passing day, fear had become an integral part of the routine, so much so that it ceased to affect the schedule anymore, unless of course there was shelling right in front of you. In the heart you knew that death could strike from any corner.

The other day, 21-year-old Maimoona Akhtar of Kulgam was killed in the most unexpected of places. Having survived the mine blast that damaged the village bridge, she rushed into the building of the Middle School for shelter. This building was to be her grave as militants were firing indiscriminately at the school where the security forces had taken cover. Along with Maimoona, two children lay in a pool of blood, their bodies riddled with bullets. Kulgam mourned the death of children all day, swearing against democracy for a while. However, on the final day of polling these very villagers risked their lives to stand up and be counted.

Such instances of bravery and courage were repeated again and again all through the election days. For Kashmiris, the bellicose rhetoric, the military build-up, and the resultant tragedies have become a familiar, though uncomfortable, routine. They have learnt well to live with it and without fear at that. No wonder, when a terrorist of the Al Alfreen outfit gunned down an NC worker in broad daylight in Srinagar’s Koker Bazaar, not a single shop was closed out of fear. Braving the routine of death, the Valley has, sadly, gained immunity against pain. Or maybe it has learnt to hide its scars well, lest it gives the terrorists another reason to strike.

Even in areas worst hit by militancy, the ability to adapt quickly runs strong. When a mine blast occurred in Devsar, killing five persons, we zipped through towns to reach the spot. However, normalcy had reached Devsar even before we did.

Reporting from the Valley was almost like reporting from a war zone. You could smell terror in the air; you could understand fear in real terms from the day of landing to the day of take off. Life hung in the balance; you expected to be cornered any moment. The most terrorising of all experiences was the drive through Tral, the prime target of militants. For miles together there was no soul to be seen. It seemed as if the town was devoid of civilian population. On the day of the third phase of polling in Pulwama, the militants hit Tral with a vengeance. Perhaps they had learnt that the voters of Tral had waited for hours to collect their voter identity cards the previous day.

About three days prior to the third phase of polling, grenades were repeatedly hurled at polling booths in Pulwama and Anantnag. Voters were shelled at and fired upon. With the risk to life running high, most people chose to remain in their houses. In Anantnag, cross firing was already the order of the day. So heavy was the presence of terror that road operating parties were not allowing vehicles to go on untraced, unchecked roads. Despite care, lives were lost, courtesy the belligerent neighbour.

And as you lived the pain of the people in the Valley, you wondered if their losses could ever be assessed. For the world outside, the holding of the Kashmir elections might have been a "mighty exercise in democracy", but for those living in the militants-infested Valley, elections were more a test of strength. In this Valley, where fear is the only constant in the ever-changing equation of life and death, hope finally managed to raise its head, despite the terrorist strikes.

The writing on the wall is now loud and clear, for everyone to read and understand. But even while the country celebrates the victory of democracy in Kashmir, your mind remains laden with terrifying images from the Valley that has somehow learnt to survive in the shadow of pain. You are still busy recounting horror tales and putting them into a fresh perspective that has room only for the voters’ verdict.

How fast can the equations change here! Only yesterday, the very anticipation of this verdict was an invitation to death. Fear was writ large all over the Valley. In 24 days, the Valley recorded over 40 killings. In fact, it was looking like a potential battleground where the enemy could trap you anywhere, any time. In sensitive segments of Handwara and Kupwara, terrorists roamed and struck at will, ripping up men and bridges alike. All over, roads were mined— awaiting victims. Within seconds, the most peaceful stretch of a sleepy, little village could appear like the gravest war zone in the world, with shelling and firing taking place incessantly.

Once in a while fate even put you face to face with bloodshed. And like any other average Kashmiri, you found yourself braving a mighty fire from across the hills or a blast on the road, and feigning immunity from the "deadly routine of the Valley."