Writhing in pain he shouted for help but none dared to turn up Brothers form a close knit bond. Brothers share unrequited affection. Brothers love beyond imagination. I lost my brother. We struggle to live and ultimately die. The grief pooling after the natural death dies down. But the separation by the bloody gun prolongs the trauma. Gun rattling is a routine in this besieged paradise. It digests humans. Gun has turned Kashmir a graveyard. Gun does not discriminate. Gun knows no relation. It is devoid of human feelings. Ajas…
