Sunday, September 15, 2019

Of media and the wrongs

Imagine a modern retelling of George Orwell’s 1984: the protagonist, Winston Smith, writes codes offline, as his internet service provider has installed “packet sniffers”,...

Mental conflagration in Kashmir

Kashmir, the state once known by the famous epithet, “paradise on earth”, has lost its way, due to a critical imbalance in the physiology...

“Educational refugees”

“Educational refugees” is a term, which aptly describes scores of Ladakhi students pursuing higher education, far away from home in places and cities unfamiliar...

From Ramadan to Eid

uben, an Australian Christian/atheist became Abu Bakr after he converted to Islam. Whilst researching about different religions what struck his mind and heart when...

Complicating the simple

"Beware, do not stray from the path of righteousness after I am gone. O, people, no prophet or apostle will come after me and...

Growing through self-censorship

Creative expression has been greatly damaged in the last two decades of turmoil and the immense art talent in Kashmir has gathered dust. Art paves way for open dialogue; its helps facilitate critical thinking. It is, therefore, important that there is a creative outburst in Kashmir.

India and Pakistan’s silent war

Two men on the death row in the two neighboring countries can be a silent war. It may not be visible to us like the drones or missiles falling on buildings and killing people. Being on death row is in itself an extreme punishment after being convicted. There are several cases in which the convicted person denies of committing the crime.

Of knowledge and humanity

It is imperative to realize that we cannot expect a foreigner from the West, or some super genius in a remote corner of the country to come to our rescue. We are the ones suffering and we are the ones who have to come up with the solution as well. We possess the knowledge but we lack the drive to apply it practically to simplify our problems.

The killing of Rahim Khan

Suddenly someone in the street screamed “Oh my god, what a tragedy!” Someone was lying in the street and blood was oozing from his body. I was terribly shocked because I knew this man. He was the man who sold us our bread. I can recall as if yesterday, the sight of his basket full of fresh bread coated with hot blood.

Abdullah family’s rise and fall

By Fahad Shah n the political arena of the Jammu and Kashmir, a little known family before 1930s which made it to the pages of...
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