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Just imagine the unimaginable. India walks out of Kashmir and makes Kashmir free.
Huh?!
How is that possible?
Why should that happen?
And how could that seemingly impossible situation be brought about?
And wait… what happens to the regions of Jammu and Ladakh… and how will they react?
And what happens to the Kashmir Valley once it achieves its long-cherished goal of independence?
Kashmir is Free is that fictional, what-if peep in to a not-too-distant future when Kashmir attains freedom from India.
Spread over 48 chapters, this astoundingly realistic and gripping politico-bureaucratic thriller will grip you by the throat and shake you to the core when you finish its 70,000-words of pure adrenaline rush.
Where after you may like to join the author with a prayer that such a scenario never comes true.
As an Indian Administrative Service (IAS) officer of the 1979 batch of the Jammu and Kashmir cadre, who has served the nooks and crannies of J&K for over 37 years, author Arun Kumar believes he’s more than qualified to do justice to this thrilling plot.
Genre: FICTION / PoliticalThis book is from the Amazon #1 Best-selling Author.
Prologue—Srinagar 29 March 2022
Shabir Ahmad Kaloo, the editor of The Kashmir Front, stroked his trim Kashmiri beard as he punched furiously on his laptop. Then with a flourish, he finished his piece: “The PM of India, Are You Listening?”
As he slouched back in his swivelling office chair, Shabir gave his editorial a final once over.
Looks all right … enough to give the Indian agencies another sleepless night, he smirked as he scratched his sharp aquiline nose.
A whiff of air from the open window suddenly blew away some paper from Shabir’s desk, which was, in any case, cluttered with all kinds of reports, newspaper clippings, and files. Instinctively, Shabir bent down to pick those up from the floor. And winced in pain.
“Bloody hell!” he whimpered, as his fingers also picked up some dirt from the unswept floor.
Looks like the sweeper has not been coming for quite some time, thanks to the frequent hartals in the city.
Surrounded as it was by all kinds of buildings, Shabir’s office in downtown Srinagar had no natural light. And the musty smell was now all-pervading. That’s why the windows had to be kept open.
Just then, he heard a knock on his door.
“Come in,” he said.
A tall lanky clean shaven Kashmiri man entered his room.
Shabir looked up. “Ah Khurshid! There you are.”
Khurshid entered the room with a laptop bag. He took a seat facing the editor.
“Did you manage to get what I’d asked for?”
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Zulay Salas
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