In the winter of 1989, when fear quietly replaced snowfall in Kashmir, a young mother stepped out of Baramulla with two small sons and a single suitcase. She thought she was leaving for a holiday. History had other plans.
Violence sealed the valley shut. Her husband stayed behind, trying to evacuate relatives, trying to save a government job that would soon vanish along with the office that held proof of his life’s work. In a small town in Madhya Pradesh, far from mountains and memory, she waited.
