Every evening, as the sun went down, the melodious notes of Lata Mangeshkar’s Dogri love song, Bhala sipahiya Dogariya, would ring out of the soldiers’ barracks, almost as a ritual, and mingle with the breeze. The song, about a woman urging her Dogra soldier to come back home, carried the echo of the mountain. I would listen to it, mesmerised, barely understanding the words but soaking in its essence.
Dogri was one of the languages I grew up listening to. It was the language the soldiers from my father’s Dogra regiment spoke. To my ear,
Dogri was one of the languages I grew up listening to. It was the language the soldiers from my father’s Dogra regiment spoke. To my ear,

)