Where The Red Roses Bloomed
In Where The Red Roses Bloomed, Mridula Kaul offers a deeply moving reflection on belonging, displacement and memory. With quiet honesty, she explores the emotional weight of exile, the sorrow of not having lived through a loss but still carrying its pain as one’s own. Through tender recollections of Kashmiri mornings, sacred gatherings and the lingering scent of red roses that once adorned her ancestral home, Kaul bridges the distance between what has been lost and what endures in memory. This poignant piece reminds us that even when place and time slip away, love and longing continue to find their way back home.
Selected posts
Brari Maej, Village Murran
Nestled in the tranquil village of Murran in Pulwama, the Brari Maej temple stands beside a crystall
Exile, As Inherited
Some people are born into a home. I was born into the absence of one. I grew up far from the valley
Memories Reveal Realities
A Kashmiri Pandit family’s story unfolds across four generations, revealing how memory, migration,
Kashmir’s Iconic Winter Attire – The Pheran
Some garments are worn; the pheran is entered like a small house of warmth and memory. Growing up, w
The Disconnected Diaspora
I often wonder when the thread snapped—when families scattered, home became a memory and belonging
Sixth Element
Haunted by memories of a lost home in Kashmir, Avanti reflects on the ache of exile and the emptines
In Focus
Carrying Kashmir: A Homeland Inherited Through Memory and Pain
Some inherit land. Others inherit longing. In Carrying Kashmir: A Homeland Inherited Through Memory and Pain, Veronica Bhat traces the invisible threads that bind her to a place she barely remembers yet has never stopped belonging to. Through fragments of family stories, sacred silences, and the unspoken weight of exile, she rebuilds Kashmir in language, as both refuge and sanctuary. Bhat writes not of a homeland visited, but of one carried: in her grandparents’ pauses, in air thick with memory, in the ache of what was lost but still endures. Her Kashmir is part myth, part wound, a place both broken and divine, where every recollection becomes an act of resistance and every word a form of return.
Editor's Desk
Making Room for Absence: How We Get On, Somehow
Grief announces itself quietly, showing up in empty chairs and messages you’ll never send. It isn’t dramatic, just the world moving on while you stumble through grocery aisles and silent mornings, learning to live around what’s missing. Over time, absence becomes another part of your days, a gentle ache that lingers. But in that ache is love, quietly proving what mattered, still shaping you as you go on.


