The autumn session of the J&K Assembly held in Srinagar from September 21 to 30 was unusually noisy and charged. Journalists saw constant ruckus and verbal duels on the floor. While some leaders spoke well for their constituencies, many members stayed silent, which felt like a betrayal of their mandate.

Covering the Jammu and Kashmir Legislative Assembly for more than four decades has meant living through the shifting moods, tempers, and textures of a House that never quite repeats itself. Every session -- whether in Srinagar or Jammu -- has carried its own rhythm, its own surprises, its own political theatre. Yet the autumn session held in Srinagar from September 21 to 30 stood out as unusually charged, unusually noisy, and unusually rich in copy. For a journalist, it was the kind of session that keeps your pen awake even when the House tries to put you to sleep.

The proceedings swung between ruckus and reason, between pandemonium and pointed argument. Verbal duels were routine; on at least one occasion, they spilled into physical confrontation. Allegations flew, counter‑allegations followed, and the floor often resembled a battleground of competing narratives rather than a forum of structured debate. But for someone who has spent a lifetime chronicling this institution, it was a privilege to witness each moment and translate it into stories that mattered to readers.

Among the voices that rose above the din, BJP's R.S. Pathania stood out -- articulate, precise, and serious in his interventions. A few of his colleagues matched his clarity, but their arguments were often drowned by the very disruptions their party engineered. On the treasury benches, Sakina Itoo once again demonstrated why she remains one of the most dependable ministers in a male‑dominated House: informed, hardworking, and unfailingly composed. Deputy Chief Minister Surinder Chaudhary excelled in quick counterpunches, often deflating opposition arguments with sharp, timely remarks. Chief Minister Omar Abdullah was forthright, especially on themes like J&K's split governance, the existence of two power centres, and the resulting fractured administration.

From the opposition, PDP's Waheed‑ur‑Rehman Para was subtle and measured, while CPIM's Mohammad Yousuf Tarigami delivered his trademark long, aggressive, ideologically rooted interventions -- persistent as ever on issues that he believes define J&K's political and economic anxieties. Several other members spoke well for their constituencies, but many sat through the session as if they were invisible. Their silence was not just noticeable; it was a betrayal of the mandate entrusted to them.

Speaker Abdul Rahim Rather once again proved himself a steady presiding officer -- calm, cool, and accommodating, even when confronted with a no‑confidence motion from the BJP. Procedurally, such motions lapse with the end of a sitting, but Rather chose to treat it differently. His remark captured both dignity and confidence: "I want the no‑confidence motion to be formally placed on the table and debated at length in the House so that I could understand what my shortcomings are. That would be in my interest; it would actually help me. And for that, I thank you, Pathania." It was a rare moment of grace in a session otherwise dominated by confrontation.

Inside the Press Gallery, the experience was mixed. Some younger colleagues clearly need to learn the decencies of the trade -- how to observe, how to listen, how to report without becoming part of the spectacle. Senior journalist Masood Hussain's suggestion of an orientation programme for them is both timely and necessary. Meanwhile, the Officer's Gallery told its own story: the absence of key officials was glaring, reflecting a widening and unmistakable divide between the bureaucracy and the elected government. The Speaker's Gallery remained nearly empty throughout, while the Visitors' Gallery overflowed -- its front rows occupied by camerapersons seeking better angles than the Press Gallery could offer.

The most refreshing sight came on the last day: a group of girl students from a Sopore school, watching the proceedings with curiosity and delight. Their presence injected a sense of hope into a space often weighed down by cynicism.

As for media management, the Department of Information and Public Relations must rethink its practice of issuing passes far beyond seating capacity. The result was chaos, discomfort, and unnecessary crowding. In contrast, the security personnel at and around the Assembly complex were consistently courteous, ensuring that despite the political heat inside, the environment outside remained orderly.

Covering this autumn session was a reminder of why legislative reporting remains one of the most demanding -- and rewarding -- beats. It is messy, unpredictable, and often exhausting. But it is also where democracy reveals its raw, unfiltered face. And for a journalist, there is no better place to be.