Agar Firdaus bar rōy-e zamin ast,hamin ast-o hamin ast-o hamin ast -I f there is a paradise on earth, It is this, it is this, it is this. The recent edition of the daily news once again brought attention to the situation in Kashmir. It featured a conversation between the news reporter Rajdeep Sardesai and residents emphasising the upcoming election rallies. The locals were asked for their thoughts on the removal of Article 371 and the change in Kashmir’s status to a union territory. The interview took place on the banks of Lake Dal, bringing back memories of my time in Kashmir. The news also covered the recent terrorist attacks in Baramulla. While the visuals were unsettling, the scenic beauty of the valley still resonated with us, evoking the feeling that heaven was right there in Kashmir, as quoted by the poet Amir Khusro. I recalled our journey through Baramulla to Gulmarg, where our adventures led to some mishaps faced by the tourists with their horse rides and others. A few peop
It rained the whole night, and we decided to walk nearby to lift our spirits. Our walk brought us across a pair of horses that belonged to a nomadic pastoral family who had settled near our residence. These horses usually roamed freely, but on this day, they seemed to be standing still and moving slowly, as if their movements were restricted. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that their legs were free but appeared to be mentally restricted. This made me ponder how often we become trapped in our thoughts, reminding me of a similar incident. My day began early on that particular day. I raced to my office cabin to start my scheduled work. My office space is a beautiful cabin with windows on both sides, providing excellent ventilation. One side of the cabin faces long fields. As usual, I opened the windows and turned on the fan to ventilate the room. Looking out into the dried fields just outside the window, I noticed burnt embers, three brick stones in a circle, and a piece of rag flying