My Story

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I grew up in Kashmir. It is a place where there are different shades to every little possible thing- such beautiful seasons, tears, laughter, untold stories, told stories which can always told in a different colour. So I would say, being a Kashmiri, poetry comes naturally, it is like a child’s curiosity, first to know everything then to convey the same in a cheerful childish way. Kashmir makes one to develop different kind of prisms to imbibe things. I used to read a lot of novels in school, mostly of Paulo Coehlo, Robin Sharma and Dan Brown. Poetry caught my

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By Mehraj Dar I’ve a right I’ve a choice I’ve a reason I’ve a voice I cried & screamed They deaf & blind I’m Kashmir My soil is drenched Colour is red I was tortured I was burnt I was stormed I was raided I was murdered I was hanged I’m Kashmir My soil is drenched Colour is red I’m gifted I’m blessed I’m a legacy I’m a history I was heaven Now I’m hell I’m Kashmir My soil is drenched Colour is red I’m dejected I’m neglected I’m divided My right denied My voice muzzled I’m not tired I’m

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By Ibreez Ajaz [I]rritating! Disgusting! Cheap! Whenever my friends and I come across a situation that fits these words, the three of us sequentially pronounce them one after the other. I have found no affair more fitting these adjectives than the ongoing mess in Kashmir. Irritating- People fight amongst themselves over trivial matters and call it politics. Disgusting- Our politicians lie to us year after year. Cheap- The masses grovel at the feet of aforementioned politicians anyway. We are no better, we who allow it to continue – the sole reason being our own lack of education, the ever-growing apathy

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By Aaqib Javeed [I]n philosophy, reality is the state of things as they actually exist, rather than as they may appear or might be imagined. In a wider definition, reality includes everything that is and has been, whether or not it is observable or comprehensible. A still more broad definition includes everything that has existed, exists, or will exist. I am writing this piece in which I will talk about the circumstances by which my reality has been constructed since childhood, till today. In childhood Sadly, my reality has been constructed with comparison since my childhood days. My parents always

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A graffiti on a wall in JNU by Democratic Students Union. In the summer of 2008, I got a phone call from my cousin who lives in Delhi. He told me about my selection in Jawaharlal Nehru University.  After two weeks of dilemma, I finally decided to join the university in a language course. It took me a while to come to terms with my decision as my first choice was not Language but Engineering. I believe half of Kashmiri youth opt for Engineering after senior secondary school. Every relative who got to know about my selection suggested me to

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[Ed. Note: The following statement is a historical document regarding the struggle for the right of self-determination of Kashmiri people. Maqbool Butt, a prominent pro-independence leader of Kashmir, was hanged by India in Tihar Jail, Delhi, on February 11, 1984. He passed most of his life in the prisons of both India and Pakistan.] Call it a coincidence or tyranny of the conditions, I have to stand today in this special court under a special order to defend the charges which are baseless and false. More appropriately these charges are the creation of a mind that is enemy of the

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Anna Hazare “Anna, Khaana kha lo anna” Here I am, at an Official Anna Hazare campaign. Not really a supporter, im not even sure what this “anna” wants. Ask any DU (Delhi University) student about Anna. It is almost like sarcasm-filled rhetoric. “So, being a young student, what are your thoughts about Anna Hazare and his cause?” “Ummm…I think it’s great we need to get rid of corruption and I think it’s going to awaken a new spirit among all Indians.” Why is there so much fuss about “Anna”? Anna won’t eat, not until the “hand” of the Congress feeds

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Snow in Kashmir famous hill station, Gulmarg. It has started snowing in the beautiful valleys of Kashmir.  In Srinagar, the capital, people must have been joyous of the breaking of cold. The old people would be talking of how the snow has almost vanished from Kashmir. They say it used to snow up to shoulder’s height during Dogra rule and subsequently it started dwindling. They cherish their old memories on the wani peanjis, (shopfronts) (the greatest talk shows are held there). The mothers would be happy for they have not to clean the streets because there is a beautiful white

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It was a bright summer day; a fairly warm Monday could also be said. Wearing my black tie and white shirt, I ran past an almost fortified building which read “RADIO KASHMIR – SRINAGAR” in bold white letters. I was running as my school’s clock had always been a bit ahead than mine, which was one of the reasons why I usually ended up arriving late, the other obvious reason was that I hated waking up early. It made a crisp sound as I stepped on the golden Chinar leaves fallen on the pavement, the Indian paramilitary camp towards my

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