Kashmir.

I feel for you my friend.

I don’t know. I’ve never lived under a constant watch. I’ve lived with a habit of feeling like a free man forever.

How does it feel when you go out for something while guns pointed at you? It must not be fear I know. Fear doesn’t live forever. Defiance, is it? A helpless defiance for the most, perhaps?

Kashmir. I’ve heard it’s beautiful, looks stunning in photos. I think I’ll perhaps go there some day (and then I google for the state of insurgency in Kashmir). I feel afraid of my life; I don’t want to be among the ones at wrong place on wrong time.

But you? I fail even to imagine it. Homes, surrounded by guns. Guns watching the homes.

I know it means nothing, but I genuinely feel sorry for you. I know you don’t need my sympathies; you’ve learnt to live under the situations. But I want you to know I stand with you. I don’t stand with the State when it decides it has a right to keep you under a watch 24×7.

My dear friend, do I even have a face to tell you things? I don’t know. It’s like you get a scolding for something you never did, and I feel so bad I can do nothing for you, and worse when I think that those guns are pointed at you in MY name. This makes ME feel helpless.

Can I even expect you to understand me?

P.S. This is all while a fraction of my tax money buys bullets in the guns pointed at you.

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