BEYOND DARA

Reflections from a Life Abroad...... I grew up in a village called Chack Ahmad Yar, near the Indo- Pak border in Jammu region, in the early eighties.  I remember those peaceful Sunday mornings that signaled the beginning of my days.  Back then, I would join a ragtag gang of boys in front of the village’s small flour mill.  The flour mill of Sardar Labh Singh was our hub, a rusted outpost near the central well and the Gurdwara Sahib.  It was a place where the elders of the village would gather to share stories and discuss their daily lives.  Among those elders, there was one man, Sardar Balwant Singh, who was known to all as the village’s self-proclaimed “BBC London.”  With his booming voice and dramatic flair, he would share his prophecies of war, future battles, and world events, captivating his audience with every word.  The men would sit around him, listening intently, while some nodded along with the conviction of a true believer, while others...

  A Heartfelt Tribute, by an Indian — B. S. Dara All who fire the bullet will die by the bullet. T his isn’t just another headline in the long conflict over Kashmir. This is personal. This is Indian blood spilled on Indian soil, again. It was supposed to be a retreat, soft pine breezes, crisp skies, ponies clopping through flower-draped meadows. Baisaran Valley, a postcard vision just seven clicks from Pahalgam, had never looked more innocent. But on April 22nd, the paradise peeled its skin back and showed the world its underbelly. What followed was the bloodiest act of terrorism on Indian soil since the 2008 Mumbai attacks, twenty-six dead, more than twenty wounded, and an entire nation staring into the abyss of its own vulnerabilities. The valley became a slaughterhouse, soaked not in the blush of spring but in the thick, ugly red of fear, faith, and geopolitics gone rancid. They came like ghosts from a forgotten war. Five men, automatic rifles slung...