Of silence, sirens and small gestures that saw us through

War times are tough. There is no poetry about them. No matter how often we hear the words, stay calm and follow a routine, there is a heaviness in the air—as if silence itself carries the weight of a thousand fears.

- Dhiraj Sharma

You wake up with worry and sleep with it, too. There is a helplessness in the air. You don't feel like starting anything—no new project, no TV show, even the most mundane acts like writing an email, watering the plants, or making a cup of tea—are suspended in an invisible web of dread. It is as if life is paused mid-sentence, waiting for some news. Any news.

The war does not just happen on the border; it seeps into your rooms, sits at your dining table, and lurks in your hallway when you turn off the lights.