The blades of the chopper still sliced through the heavy Kashmiri air when its skids hit the ground. The roar of the rotors thundered across the tarmac , a dull, rhythmic sound that rattled the chest, mixed with the echo of hurried footsteps and static from army radios. It wasn’t like the loud, public homecomings shown on TV , no cameras flashing, no roaring crowd.

This one was quiet. Controlled. A secret brought home under steel-grey clouds.