“Afroza Bano’s hands, once calloused from planting and weaving reed mats, now grow nimble with needle and thread. But sometimes, they get pricked by sharp pins or roughened by handling coarse fabric.” – The Xylom
In the misty light of dawn, the waters of Dal Lake shimmer like crushed sapphires. The surface ripples out with the gentle push of an oar that guides the wooden shikara boats through the calm waters.… [+11851 chars]
