Srinagar, Jan. 10 -- The following morning, I did not start with the bakery. Instead, I started in the bathroom. I stood before the small mirror, my hand hovering over my toothbrush. For the first time in my life, I didn't see an instrument of hygiene; I saw a stick of multicolored plastic with nylon bristles, more plastic, packaged in a cardboard and plastic blister pack. I picked it up, feeling the light, synthetic weight of it. How many of these had I used in my lifetime? One every few months, perhaps sixty or seventy already. Where were they now? They were not in the soil, transformed into nutrients. They were still toothbrushes, somewhere, sitting in a landfill or floating in the silt of the Wullar Lake, their bristles still intact, ...