Our Moon Has Blood Clots: A Memoir of a Lost Home in Kashmir

by Rahul Pandita

When I saw Nehru for the first time in Lal Chowk, I was a refugee in my own state. Sixty years later, I am a refugee in my own country.

‘Each day we leave behind something of our identity,’ one woman said. ‘Yesterday, it was the freedom to sing the National Anthem; today it is the freedom to wear a bindi; tomorrow it could be our faith.’