In the upper reaches of central Kashmir, two seasonal schools for the children of nomadic people are awaiting right touches and treatment. Itโs a daily slog for seasonal teacher Ajaz Ahmed through boroughs, brooks and bridges of Budgam. After dusting miles on foot, he reaches upper pastures and stands sullen in serene surroundings. The grassroot…
Kashmir: Homeland and dispute. Even though people talk of it as paradise, it is everything else than a paradise for a resident. Kashmir. This one word inspires so many thoughts, brings forth so many things, images, that Iโm not sure where to start. For an Indian, itโs the crown and an integral part of the…
Demonization of Kashmir journalism is nothing new. Thereโs a pattern in it, as K-history is replete with instances of economic offensive and death knell to choke and shake the 4th pillar of democracy in the region grappling with its own pending political problem. For doing their job, scribes are taking a tightrope walk in Kashmir…
Although they never fought on the frontlines, the forgotten women militia remains a standalone event in Kashmir history in which women took to streets and equipped themselves with arms, and trained themselves thereof. Seventy-three years ago, the tribesmen of North-Western Frontier of Pakistan marched into Kashmir, steadily journeying eastwards in the interest of โfreeing Kashmirโ…
After teachers and students ganged up against him, the diminutive boy thought of quitting studies and ending his life. But what he eventually did made the boy an inspiration for all and sundry. On World Dwarfism Awareness Day, Mountain Ink presents an untold story of injustice, inequality and discrimination towards a Kashmiri petite person. When…
To tell the truth, on the face of a tyrant, is a brave act. This book is an act of revelation. Gowhar’s book is a result of more than a decade of his journalistic career. Research and his personal experience of Kashmir makes him own the narrative. Authoritative and emotional, Kashmir โ Rage and Reason…
My son took a bathput on new clothes,left home,riding a horselike a prince;came homeas kilos of ripped flesh. one foggy winter day,some two decades ago,my brotherlost his fingers;an eagle feastedon his eyes. meadows, haunted hamletswhere the grass grows uphill-armed men storm the villageand take men out of their houses,beat themand force them to carry their…