When Ink Stops Being Rebellion: Why Kashmiris Are Quietly Removing Their Tattoos

Once a symbol of resistance, now a silent risk.
Across Kashmir, more and more young people are walking into tattoo clinics — not to get inked, but to erase old statements carved into their skin. Tattoos that once screamed defiance — like “Azadi” (freedom), AK-47 rifles, or portraits of separatist figures — are now quietly disappearing under the laser.

 

 

‘Azadi’ Goes Under the Laser

In a Srinagar laser clinic, a 17-year-old sits nervously, watching a word vanish from his arm. His first tattoo — “Azadi”, once a personal statement of protest — is now a source of unease.

Sameer, 28, recalls the moment that changed his view. He was stopped at a checkpoint; a soldier noticed the tattoo and asked, “What’s that?”

“He didn’t know Urdu, thankfully. But right then, I realized this ink could become trouble,” Sameer says.
“Back then, it felt brave. Now I know — blending in is smarter than standing out for the wrong reasons.”

 

 

Tattoos in the Crosshairs

The shift intensified after a deadly April 2025 attack in Pahalgam left 26 dead, triggering a massive crackdown: drones, arrests, home raids — over 1,500 detained in a matter of weeks. In this climate, even old tattoos are seen as suspicious.

Rayees, 26, who once wore a tattoo of a separatist leader’s name, says:

“People look at you differently now — friends, police, neighbors. Even the cashier at the market. I just want it gone.”

A Tattoo Isn’t a Crime — But It Can Still Cost You

Arsalan, 19, didn’t share his surname out of fear. He booked a removal session after sensing the growing tension.

“Having political ink today is like walking around with a manifesto. It’s no longer safe,” he says.

Tattoo studios are still busy — but with new kinds of requests. Floral designs, minimalist quotes, animal motifs. The AK-47s and Che Guevara portraits? Not so much.

 

 

When Ink Blocks Your Career

Talib, 25, once tattooed a Quranic verse shaped like an assault rifle. During a government job application, a relative in law enforcement warned him — subtly — that it might be a problem.

“No one said it directly, but I could feel it was holding me back,” he says. “Now I avoid short sleeves. I know it cost me opportunities.”

In Kashmir, a government job is like winning the lottery — stable, respected, and hard to get. But tattoos? They don’t exactly help.

Painful, Costly, and Still Worth It

Tattoo removal is booming. Artists like Mubashir Bashir in Srinagar now spend as much time erasing ink as they do creating it.

“After the death of Punjabi rapper Sidhu Moose Wala in 2022, AK-47 tattoos surged in popularity,” Bashir recalls.
“Now, after Pahalgam, we’re seeing people lining up to get rid of them. It’s not fashion — it’s fear.”

He estimates that tens of thousands of tattoos have been removed in recent years, especially since India revoked Kashmir’s special status in 2019.

Some Remove for Jobs. Others, for Faith.

Faheem, 24, tattooed a Quranic verse across his back at 17. Now, he says it created a spiritual conflict.

“Every prayer came with guilt. I knew it wasn’t right. Removing it helped me reconnect with my beliefs.”

Many young Muslims in the region echo this — consulting imams, searching for answers. The verdict? Your past doesn’t define you. Growth does.

 

 

Sameer’s Last Session

Sameer’s once-bold “Azadi” tattoo is nearly gone. A faint scar remains.

“I didn’t cry when I got the tattoo,” he says. “But I did when I started removing it. It felt like letting go of a version of me that no longer fits.”

Still, he believes it was the right decision.

“This isn’t about shame. It’s about becoming someone new. I respect who I was — but I want to live without looking over my shoulder.”

Editor’s Note:

A tattoo can be art, identity, rebellion — or regret. In Kashmir, it has become all of the above.
And sometimes, growing up means letting go — not because you’re ashamed, but because you’ve evolved.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s the bravest ink of all.