Srinagar, Aug. 21 -- It is eight in the evening, and my family has gathered in the kitchen the way it has for generations - the same kaleen spread across the floor, the same kettle of noon chai cooling on the stove. But something has shifted. Nobody is talking. My father scrolls through a news feed. My teenage brother is lost inside a game. My sister watches a reel with one earbud in. My grandmother sits at the edge of the room, waiting for someone to notice her. The lights are on, the house is full, and the room still feels empty. This is the quiet irony of our age. We can video-call a cousin in Dubai in an instant, yet we can sit for an hour beside our own parents without exchanging ten sentences. We are wired to the world and unplugged...