The voice is clear. "My belief is that Kashmir will get liberated, inshallah (God willing), only by the armed struggle." Her words are concise, but she betrays a hint of nervousness. Asiya Andrabi is not accustomed to giving interviews - least of all to foreign, male journalists.
"The way these political leaders are working, Kashmir will never get free from India. The freedom struggle is much more important to us than the peace moves they are talking about."
As she speaks, only her hazel eyes are visible through a peephole in her burqa, the Islamic veil. Her one-year-old son is playing on her lap, sometimes pulling at the burqa, causing it to ride up and catch repeatedly on her lower eyelids.
Does she support the killing of Indian police and soldiers? "Not only the police, but all the Indian politicians, too. We support that." Does she back a call made by a Kashmiri militant group for the assassination of India's prime minister? "We'd be very happy, inshallah .."
Asiya Andrabi is the head of Dukhtran-e-Millat, Daughters of the Faith, a women's Islamic group in Indian-administered Kashmir. It claims no more than a few hundred members. But her views have importance. While her organisation has no direct links with the Pakistan-based armed separatist groups, it shares with them the concept of jihad, of an Islamic holy war, to rid Kashmir of what she describes as Hindu-majority India's "Brahmin imperialism". She's one of the rare voices in Srinagar who speaks what the new, hardline militants think.
Although not herself a fighter, Andrabi has spent time in jail. Her husband has been an armed militant - she prefers the term mujahid - and served a seven-year prison term. They keep on the move, to try to avoid the Indian security forces.
My rendezvous had been arranged through an intermediary. One of Andrabi's associates, a 20-year-old, met me, took the back seat of the car while insisting that I sit in the front, and guided the driver a short distance across Srinagar.
"This is not my home," Asiya Andrabi explained, as she welcomed me into a comfortable middle-class house, and offered a cup of kehwa, the fragrant, spiced Kashmiri tea. "I won't stay here more than an hour. I'm not scared. It's just that if I'm arrested, I can't do my work."
Her work is to Islamise the Kashmiri movement. While many separatist leaders proclaim that their cause is political - to achieve the right of self-determination for the former princely state of Jammu and Kashmir lost when India and Pakistan gained independence in 1947 - Andrabi insists the issue is religious.
"This struggle is purely an Islamic struggle," she argues. "We have sacrificed 80,000 martyrs [the more accepted figure is 30,000 dead in 12 years of insurgency] and we are ready to sacrifice more."
In the Indian-ruled Kashmir valley, which is now 98% Muslim, that message gets a mixed response. Kashmir has a long history of a composite culture, much diminished by the recent flight of the Kashmiri-speaking Hindu minority.
Kashmiriat, the local word for the relaxed Kashmiri outlook on life, encompasses a rather mystical, Sufi-influenced type of Islam. Chants are intoned in the mosques, and there are Islamic shrines, even relics, housed in buildings with an architectural style more akin to central Asia than to the Punjab plains.
All this earns the disapproval of Asiya Andrabi. "I oppose traditional Kashmiri culture," she declares. "We want to return our women to Islamic culture."
Most Kashmiris are ambivalent about the new breed of militant. While Asiya Andrabi is a Kashmiri, many of the like-minded fighters are seen as outsiders, from Pakistan or further afield. Two British Muslims have been among the "guest militants" killed in Kashmir, according to the Indian army.
Ceasefires failing
But the new militants are better equipped and trained, and altogether bolder, as the Indian authorities acknowledge. The armed separatist movement, once close to being humbled by the military, is again showing its mettle.
As a consequence, Srinagar is a violent city. The weekend before last, 10 people were killed in two separate clashes and 10 more died elsewhere in the Kashmir valley. The two ceasefires being observed by Indian security forces have engendered little optimism, because while one is holding, the other is not. For the past five months, the Indian and Pakistani artillery guns facing each other across the line of control have been quiet. But the more crucial ceasefire, with the militants inside Indian-administered Kashmir, has had little effect. The armed separatists have not responded to New Delhi's unilateral initiative.
Separatists divided
The Indian government has offered unconditional talks with Kashmiri groups. The main separatist alliance in Srinagar, the All Parties Hurriyat [Freedom] Conference, has responded cautiously. It wants Pakistan involved, and does not trust Delhi to consider any option which might loosen India's sovereignty over the 5m people of the Kashmir valley.
The mainstream separatists are divided - some want accession to Pakistan, others an independent Kashmir, a prospect widely supported by Kashmiris, however impractical it might be for a remote mountain valley.
Asiya Andrabi has no time for the moderates of the Hurriyat Conference. "We want Pakistan," she says. "Then it will be our first and foremost duty to Islamise Pakistan."
She escorts us to the door. She asks about my children, and I enquire after hers. Her elder son, now eight, was confined with her in jail and she's still angry about that. "When he grows up, I would like him to be a jihadi, and fight for Islam anywhere in the world." Unless the deadlock in Kashmir is broken, Asiya Andrabi's son will not have to search far for his battleground.
Andrew Whitehead presents The World Today on the BBC World Service.