Fiction

A Rendezvous In The Troubled Land – Kashmir

"All the boys of our village are deciding to stage protests at the main Chowk in the evening", said Fatima Aunty beginning a daily routine of discussions about the “tehreek”. “Why should they not? It is our movement.” Rahim khan spoke with air of pride. “Khoday...

Dream

The February nights were unusually warm that year, snow was missing from the roads, everything lay bare and uncovered ,and the life kept going like a henna cone on bride’s hands. The house at the river bank was calm, soothing and silent. His nose was...

Diary Of A Pellet Victim Who Lost Her Vision

Cricket’s making their usual sounds, squirrels finding ways to escape, the sun below the line of shining. It is again so beautiful to remind humans that they are the blessed one. Supermans, as everybody stares at the hole without blinking. The six gaps from...

A Mouthful Of Silence

I am ritually impure. Before Fajr breaks in I should ablute. It's Friday, that makes it doubly rewarding. Or punishing? I don't know. I've spent this night reading a pick from my priced collection of books on literature and Kashmir. Somebody is already up downstairs....

The Identity Card

Recently I slipped out of my owners pocket (pocket near the heart). I slipped unnoticed. He didn’t know I had jumped out of my cage only to peep what is going on? A lot of noise of carpet beatings in the air, silence in...

A Jar Full Of Home

A post shared by Kayehaan (@kayehaan) on Jul 5, 2017 at 12:45am PDT The weather in this part of the world was brutal, just like most other places which weren’t Kashmir. And if you were from the mountains and had been living...

Blue Collar

In 124 days, I worked for just 17. Rest of 107 days were black for me, because I am a blue-collar worker. A day without work means no pay. I will not die, but half empty stomach can turn one into an insomniac. Blue-collar workers...

I Was Killed Soon After My Marriage In Kashmir

I tasted the salty tears on her lips when she kissed me the last time. We were neighbours. Born in the same year. Played together in the same park. Went to the same school. Same college. Same university. Soon after completing our university, we got married....

I Was Four Month’s Pregnant When They Killed Him

Colourful Colourless Mornings What is the colour of mornings? All hues in a passing. Red like his blood-drenched clothes. Pale like his lifeless face. Black like the smoke of people gathering around. Wailing. Shouting. Raging. Green like the flag raised on his adeau. Oh, it burns...

Agony Inside – A Story From Kashmir

It was a blissful morning. The frosty air was blowing, unleashing the magical music of vibrating leaves. The hem of the Sun was accruing from the mountains painting the atmosphere with gold. Seeing this tranquil atmosphere my soul was craving for a...

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