Lost Home! -Childhood memories of a Kashmiri Hindu woman...
Writer: Suveni Kaul ‘Kashmir’, as this word flash across the mind, what comes alive is my very vivid childhood. So vivid, that even after 25 years, I can still feel the warmth of the winter sunshine, smell those bright roses of spring and hear the rustling of the autumn gold….Everything, after the winter of 1990 in my life is like a blur. Life just went on fast-forward and years have gone by like days yet Kashmir is tha place where time for me has eternally stopped.... Life in Kashmir for me, oscillated around the banks of the river, ironically called, ‘Doodh Ganga’ (milky Ganga). It was anything but ‘milky’. It was always muddy, yet very much a living, breathing river. Over the ‘Doodh Ganga’, hung a rickety old wooden bridge, which sometimes gave away during heavy rains. On one side of this river, was my unassuming home, which my father had built with scant resources, at the young age of 25 to put a roof over the head of his family and his ageing parents. And on the other