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Musings of a Person Far Away from the Action in Kashmir

It was raining, so we moved from the college ground to an empty classroom. The year was 2013, it was my first year in Delhi away from the place I grew up in, Sambalpur. On that rainy afternoon, we were asked to close our eyes and describe the images that we see when certain words were said. I closed my eyes and waited for a list of words hoping it won’t be as bad as improvisation sessions during theatre practice. I was trying my best but I just couldn’t understand the things that people kept saying about character building, setting, dialogues etc. I had clearly drawn lines between reality and imagination simply because imagination and I were sworn enemies. So, I held on to reality in the most stubborn way possible. I know what’s real, I don't know what's beyond. Words like imaginative or creative weren’t something I could use even while writing a facebook bio. A few people in the group were playing guitar and singing along. How much I loved the songs that our seniors com...