A Kashmiri Village Speaks
Everyday the world seems to be moving. People rush constantly toward things they might never hold, cities grow higher, and lights shine brighter. However, while I stand here, I am calm, patient, and full of life that continues to flow calmly and steadily. I am stillness in a restless world. I am the calm to your restless soul. I may not have tall buildings or bright lights, but I hold something far richer - the peace, patience, and a quiet strength that doesn’t need to be shown to be felt. Don’t mistake my stillness for backwardness. Growing up with me doesn’t mean being behind; it means learning how to live peacefully, work hard, and stay grounded lessons many forget while chasing their city dreams.
My mornings start in a different way. When I wake up, I can hear birds chirping, roosters calling, and the comforting aroma of freshly made chapattis. The sunlight spills softly over the mountains, and my air feels clean and peaceful. My people get up early; some go to the fields to let their animals graze, while others light the clay stove and wait for tea outside. There’s no rush here, no chaos; just life flowing at its own calm pace. I watch my children return from school, helping their parents, feeding animals, running barefoot, laughing freely, playing with kitchen set which are made from mud instead of plastic, finding joy in what their own hands create. They may not have gadgets or grand schools, but they learn what truly matters: responsibility, kindness, and patience. They see how their parents face every hardship harsh weather, low crops and still smile at the end of the day.
Many think I am old-fashioned, but they don’t know my truth. Those dry, rough hands that people hesitate to touch are the same hands that feed them every single day. They work through heat, cold, and long hours with strength, dignity, and a quiet smile. When autumn arrives, I change my colors. My people gather the fallen leaves and burn them gently; from that smoke and ash come warmth and charcoal that will comfort us through the winter. Their hearts are educated long before their hands hold degrees. During the power cuts, instead of getting agitated people light lanterns and candles sharing the stories with so much fun and laughter and kangris held close for comfort. Kitchens glow with Lakdi Bukhari, where rice simmers slowly and conversations float. These are the peaceful, relaxed, lively evenings I cherish.
And when night falls, I rest under a sky filled with so many stars. There is no noise, no loneliness only open doors, kind neighbors, and soft conversations after dinner. Grief and joy here are carried together; no one is truly alone. So tell me, how can someone abandon this kind of life? People in cities might have more, but I hold what they’ve lost real connections, pure intentions, and gentle giggles. The strength to endure without turning cold, and the art of staying kind even when life is not easy. I am your village your home, your roots, your beginning. Don’t forget me.
Let your youth see what I hold before it fades from memory the calmness, the courage, the gratitude, and the peace that feels like home. Even in darkness, I shine through their togetherness.
Moreover, I watch many of my children leaving me and chasing their dreams among neon lights, forgetting the peace they once had here. I don’t blame them, but I only whisper, “don’t forget me.” I just want them to see what I hold, the calm that comes without chaos, the courage that grows from simplicity, the warmth that no city can ever give. The fields that used to be alive with laughter are now becoming silent as they wait for the same footsteps that have never appeared again. Where children's laughter once flowed, now it whispers quietly, wondering when it will be heard again. The aging Chinar tree still stands tall, preserving many memories, its roots buried deep in the same soil that raised you.
You may find comfort in tall buildings and city lights, but do you think light can give you this warmth which I am holding for you? My warmth is different; it’s in the smiles shared over evening tea, in the kindness that costs nothing, in the love that asks for nothing in return. Don’t let your roots dry while chasing clouds. The world will always teach you how to move faster, but I will always remind you how to breathe. I do not ask you to stay forever. I only ask you to visit, to remember, to let your children revive this happiness. Allow them to taste rice cooked on a clay stove, hear the roosters at dawn, and walk barefoot on my soil. Tell them that there is still peace here, just waiting for them. Return because you still belong here, not because you've lost anything. Return for the love that never grew old, the warmth that never went away, and the serenity that still calls your name in the morning wind.
Do not forget me.
I am your identity and the place where you begin.
