My heart, it sinks.
I am looking into the darkness for answers and not finding any.
What is it?
Srinagar is crowded with muted people, like in a nightmare. They walk about with eyes half closed. Peering at what monsters hide at an uncertain distance. Everyone is afraid. Everyone is unafraid. They rub empty hands to keep them warm, as they strain their eyes with a blank face. The empty arms of their pherans hanging lifelessly on the sides. Kashmir, tonight, is a nightmare.
There were notices given to ration ghats to sell off everything because to a country starved for good news, food must not be in short supply. No news comes out of the iron corridors of power in Kashmir. Everyone is speculating the end of their world in whatever ways they can. What gets you through the night may not survive you tomorrow.
Will there be a war? India and Pakistan have spared no opportunity to squabble like unruly neighbours. Their collective noise has only brought misery to Kashmir. And now, everyone says we are inching towards a war. So, while the snow is slowly melting in the thaw of early spring India has sent additional men to heat the air up with smoke and sirens.
The unbridled hate that has been so lovingly showered on Kashmiris in the past days, if not weeks, if not months and years has left little to imagination. One must be quiet in these times, very quiet, I have been repeatedly warned. There are families with children in India and anxious parents living alone, now awaiting war. It may come in any form. In the shape of a thousand more soldiers. In the shame of public beatings. In the form of dead children. Only they see the end of this war.