Making telvor in her kitchen, Deepa Kaul finds herself transported back to the kandur shops of Kashmir — bustling traditional bakeries that were the soul of every street. From the warm naveed gifted by the baker to the sounds of cricket commentary on the radio, the smell of bread fresh from the tandoor, and walls adorned with film stars and calendars of God, these shops held an entire world within them. Through memory and dough, Deepa reconnects with a childhood steeped in warmth, community, and the simple joy of bread.

2min reading
In Focus

Migration is as old as humanity itself, yet the struggle to define “home” and “heritage” is more relevant than ever. As people are uprooted, by choice or by crisis, their stories, memories and traditions travel with them, weaving new threads into the fabric of their adopted lands. But as communities strive to preserve their cultural identity, a question lingers: does their legacy become part of their new home, or does it remain forever tied to the land they left behind? This article explores the journeys of displaced peoples, from Parsis in India to Kashmiri Pandits in Delhi and asks: who truly owns a cultural legacy?

6min reading
Editor's Desk

In October 1983, Kapil Dev's newly crowned World Champions came to Kashmir, and a young child heard it all through the crackle of a battered transistor perched on the almirah like a deity. Cricket arrived not through screens but through static, through a small box that made distant stadiums feel close and strangers feel like family. This is a memoir about growing up where the transistor took center stage, where commentary from Eden Gardens and Chepauk drifted through walls, and where cricket's faithful were swept so completely off their feet that the whole world outside simply ceased to exist.

9min reading

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