It is near to impossible for me to review this book which deals with the state of the kashmiri pandits, a subject, so close to the heart, mind n the soul of the author. RatherI would like to write about how I felt while reading this book. I came upon this book by chance and was hooked to the story from the very first page.
Rahul Pandita made me sit up and realise in what a cocoon like state, I've been livin my life, sheltered form the harsh realities and the sufferings of people of my own country in the name of religion fueled by the politicians. I'm not pro politics but as I went reading this book, I felt a strange blend of helplessness, anger and an urge to cry and scream out. It was my conscience asking me to stand up and raise my voice against the atrocities done to this community and the apathy meted out to them even today by the political parties, be it the refugee camps or to the pandits who've returned back to their homeland on the false promises made to them.
I have some very close kashmiri muslim friends who've also suffered during the peak of militancy in Kashmir and are still living there with an unknown fear at the back of their minds, be it the militants or the atrocties of the Indian army. As Rahul Pandita had himself told an army general while discussing the human rights violation," I've lost my home not my humanity".
Though the book stays with you long after its over there are a couple of lines which bring a lump in your throat. "I was one of the thousands of migrants who landed each day in Delhi but unlike others I was in permanent exile, from Kashmir where my family came from."