Srinagar, June 12 -- We walked in, not to inspect, but to see. The sun hung low over Narbal, Budgam, my home district, and spilled soft light into the room where children sat. Little ones, barely three to five, were arranged in neat rows like display items, not living beings.

They were silent. Unnaturally so.

We paused at the door. The hall was large but cold. There were no toys, no posters, no laughter. Just the sound of breathing and a voice: loud, sharp, misplaced.

"Jo shor karega usko main maaroonga."

Whoever makes noise, I'll beat him.

The teacher barked the warning, unaware we were watching. My chest tightened. At that age, children aren't meant to be silent. Silence in a pre-primary room isn't peace, it's fear wearing a school...