Its 9:00am in Poonch, a border town and the district headquarters in Jammu and Kashmir. I was watching the TV coverage of the Republic Day parade by one of the leading news channels from New Delhi. The scene shifted, to another place - in front of the Bakshi Stadium, in Srinagar, where the parade was scheduled to take place. The anchor in Srinagar, standing in front of the Stadium, (which was being guarded like a fort, after an attack on the CRPF a day earlier) was announcing that no one was allowed to cross the place and the entire surroundings was shut down. The scene shifted back to New Delhi, with the anchor making a profound statement - This is the scenario in Kashmir - as if events in Srinagar represented those in the whole of Jammu and Kashmir.

At 10.00am in Poonch, the Republic Day celebrations are about to begin in the Higher Secondary School ground, situated in the heart of the town on the banks of Poonch River, close to the bus stand. Surrounded by the hills of the Shivalik, the stadium was not far from the Line of Control (LoC); the announcements and the follow-up celebrations, would surely have been heard by those living across the LOC. Not long ago, militancy was intense and so was the shelling from across the border. Hotel Anand, hardly 100 meters from the stadium witnessed a fidayeen attack in 2002, in which a Deputy Superintendent of Police was also killed.

Contingents from the police forces, NCC and more than fifteen schools were ready for the march past and the children in particular dressed in different colours were anxious anticipating their performance. The stadium, though with no galleries, had some temporary tents and chairs. Though there is another stadium, just in front, with some basic open galleries and a concrete podium, the police at the last minute had decided to shift the venue as a surprise security move. The seats have already been filled and there are also people standing. As I gathered later, those who came to watch - numbering more than 10,000 - were not asked (or forced) to attend as is the case in Srinagar celebrations.

It was cloudy with a chill wind and threat of rain. There was substantial police presence around the stadium, but the adjacent main road was open to traffic. On the other side of road, an ambulance, an armoured vehicle and fire engines were stationed to meet any eventualities. Everyone was waiting for the show to begin, Taj Mohiuddin, the Minister, who was to take the guard of honour was late arriving finally at 10:45am.

The minister went directly to the stage and hoisted the national flag. The flag however, did not unfurl and fly, as there was some problem with the knotting. By the time, the minister started his speech, it had started raining but when the minister had finished, the march-past started, with the Deputy Superintendent of Police leading it. What followed was an exhibition. Students from the government schools to small children from the convent marched in various contingents in different dresses and uniforms. There were caps, hats and turbans; there were Gujjars, Bakerwals, Hindus, Muslims and Sikhs. The march was not uniform and the school children occasionally missed a step but there was a rhythm in spite of those minor mishaps. No one bothered about the missteps and I could see the pride on the people's faces. It was a spectacle.

Suddenly, the clouds disappeared and the rains, stopped. The sun came out and so did those who were trying to find a place under the temporary roofs. Numerous kids, who had come to watch kept trying to move forward and the women constables had a tough time getting them to sit in a row. The Additional Superintendent of Police, who was sitting next to me, was constantly looking around and making periodic rounds.

Following the march, there was a series of cultural programmes including songs and dances. There was an overdose of patriotism, but no one complained. They had come to see their children perform; they had come to see the Republic Day parade, perhaps the only non-political gathering held here. Some of the people were not even aware of the significance of the occasion. For them, it was a day of solidarity with the rest of country and a day to celebrate beyond religious and political divides.

The show ended in two hours. The minister left immediately; I could hear his helicopter whirling away within the next five minutes. Two hours was well beyond expectations, especially when the district happens to be Poonch, where newspapers only reach by six in the evening and the only place in town that has access to the internet is the District Commissioner's office. The entire police force was relieved at the end of the ceremony while for me it was perhaps the best Republic Day parade that I had ever watched.