Lines Drawn in Blood

In villages caught between two nations, memory and fear shape everyday life. The land is under floodlights, children are sent away in silence, and home is a place one must keep returning to

- Pragya Singh

"IN the border villages of Punjab, life unfolds under constant watch-beneath CCTV cameras, near floodlit fields that never go dark, in full view of Border Security Force (BSF) watchtowers on one side and the sweeping eyes of Pakistani rangers on the other. A tall metal-and-concrete barbed wire fence delineates the Indian side; a few hundred metres in, reinforced bunkers and ditches are everywhere. Their constant reinforcement is a stark reminder of conflicts past and new. Life here means waking to the sounds of gurdwara kirtans and mosque aazans, both rising together in many villages, and in today's times, it also means learning to live with the regular hum of drones.

But drones-usually known in the region for ferrying drugs and other contrabandtook on a completely different meaning just weeks ago. During a blackout in Amritsar amid mounting tensions between India and Pakistan in the wake of the April terrorist attack in Pahalgam, Kashmir, a doctor was jolted awake by strange noises. She stepped onto the rooftop of her home, where she also runs a hospital on the ground floor. Atop the large red cross painted on the roof at the authorities' insistence, she froze, taking in the haunting sight of trees swaying in the bright moonlight. In the distance, a JCB vehicle moved slowly, presumably deployed by armed forces. Military personnel stirred cautiously, their presence stark against the stillness of the night. Nearby was a gurdwara that had once lent space for the forces in previous battles, a silent testament to the escalating situation. Soon after, her sister from Ferozepur called, transmitting the chilling sounds of a dogfight overhead and reporting that a drone had been downed at Ram Tirth, a locality near Amritsar city.