Whenever Kargil comes around, I remember how my grandmother would fold her *khudei* tight and say nothing—just listen to the radio crackle with names. A few years ago, one of my students brought a tiny drawing of a soldier standing beside a *phou* field, and I thought, we never hear about the Meitei boys who went up there, do we? The big ceremonies are far away, and the families here just get
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