Srinagar, June 1 -- I had gone to fetch milk from the nearby village. As I pushed open the gate, nothing seemed out of the ordinary-yet something about the air felt alive. The courtyard was bursting with energy: children shouted mid-game, chasing cricket balls with dust rising at their heels. A few zipped past on scooters, the hum of engines tangled with carefree laughter. It looked like they had just arrived at their maternal home-the kind of joy only that place can bring.
Watching them, something inside me stirred. Their wild happiness tugged at the edges of memory, and before I knew it, I was drifting-pulled back to a time when I too was that young, that free, that full of noise and dreams. Nostalgia rose slowly, like evening mist, turn...