PUNCHLINE Kashmir’s  New Ambassadors By Z.G. Muhammad   Like many others in my tribe; opinion writers and columnists, guided by screaming headlines I am also oblivious to the urges and aspirations of our youth.  That there is a strong undercurrent in a whole generation of them to use music,  arts, literature,   theatre and modern mediums like Instagram and YouTube for telling their stories, and articulating their pain and agony. I understood it first time some six years … Read entire article »

  Nostalgia   Downtown Boy On The Champs-Elysées ZGM Every one of has a treasure trove of reminiscences. I love to share them and make my friends nostalgic- nostalgia, I believe is cathartic. I don’t know; it is the job of the scientist to decide if nostalgia could be described as autobiographic, episodic or semantic memory. Nevertheless, it is something that takes us down the memory land instantly, at an unimaginable speed. Sometimes, a whirlwind that all children lovingly … Read entire article »

  Nostalgia Carpenter with Nimble Hands    By ZGM   I was introduced to the nimble hands   much before, my younger sibling and I began with our tender hands looking for pearls in Kawa-Shup (shells) in the dunes of driftwood in the firewood store of our house. I was introduced to them before; I could  walk without my mother holding my hands. My first introduction to the skillful hands, which I admired in later days of my life was … Read entire article »

Last Relic of Feudal Rule Like a shadow Aziz Malik followed the legendary headmaster Ghulam Mohammed Khadim inside the school     ZGM Looking through the “Pinjra” window of our mud- garden-roof house into the street outside, was one of my best pastimes. That was true about many children in my generation. The colourful processions of the Maharaja with soldiers mounted on tall horse backs, on the way to temple on the slope of hillock near our home and  people … Read entire article »

  PUNCHLINE Message To Hiba Jan   My Father Is Your Culprit Z.G. Muhammad   There has been no laughter in our life. That is true about for three generations born after the famous ‘stroke of the mid-night.’  Still, we have been treading on, braving blizzard after blizzard of the batons and bullets; treacheries and tortures and intimidation and terror- talking and writing about our plight but there are awe-striking moments that freeze up our faculties. One, such a terrible moment … Read entire article »