The night I began Operation SINDOOR, the house was quiet in that fragile way silence gets after the news has exhausted itself. The phone lay face down. Outside, a distant train horn stitched the darkness together. I didn’t open the book expecting drama. I opened it expecting clarity. What I didn’t expect was to feel as if I’d stepped into a low-lit operations room where time moves in half-seconds and every choice leaves a residue.   Lt Gen K.J.S. Dhillon doesn’t write like so