Three Senior Citizens, Three Stories

Season’s first heavy snowfall on Friday brought smiles, but for Kashmir’s elderly, it brought hardships. It brought an unexpected day out to the district hospital Baramulla (associated GMC) where I found myself amidst the quiet struggles of our elderly citizens. Three chance encounters, three poignant tales of lives weathered–each one a mirror reflecting our collective responsibility. Here are their stories, shared one by one.
As I boarded the bus in Watergam, away at 1 & a half km distance from my edifice, I found a seat in the almost-empty vehicle–a far cry from the crowded rides of my college days. I sat alone till Tragpora on a three-seater, when Abdul Samad Khan, a 72-year-old from Rohama, joined me. Shivering with cold, he had a bag with a file inside. “Gubra Kate Chukh Rozan” (Where are you from, my dear?” he asked, starting a conversation. As we talked, he surprised me by asking about people from my village–acquaintances of his from long ago. “Chae Aasse Hakh Ne Tum Zanan. Chae Chukh Ratuk” (You might not know them, you’re too young), he said with a smile, connecting the threads of time.
Until Chakloo stop, I listened in awe as Samad Kak wove words of wisdom, his frail voice carrying truths we often ignore in our society. He spoke of a harsh reality. Yes, we have indeed forgotten our elderly, treating them as burdens, leaving them to fend alone. We are lost in our own hustle and bustle and called it prosperity without them, abandoning them to fate. But this is our folly–a mindset that needs urgent change. His message was clear: “we must reclaim our compassion and care for those who have cared for us.”
Anyways, as we reached Janbazpora, I asked Samad Kak, why he had ventured out in the cold. He sighed, his eyes weary, and said, “Kye Wane Gubra; Social Welfare Dafter Waluv Chuthasse. Aorre Yorr Chem Karan. Izz Dupham Baramulla Aan Dist. Social Welfare Dafter Paet Lehkheth” (These social welfare clerks are driving me mad! They sent me to Baramulla, saying I need a signature from the District Social Welfare Office. What choice do I have?)
There is no denying to the fact that there are so many elderly citizens around us who brave harsh winters for a mere Rs.1000, social welfare allowance, facing hardships we can ease. Clerks in Social Welfare offices can make a difference – by prioritizing their tasks, simplifying processes, and showing compassion. Let’s help them with dignity, not add to their struggles. Respect and care for our elders is a virtue we must uphold.
Secondly, when I reached Baramulla d-hospital in Kantbagh, patients crowded the queues, a familiar winter scene in Kashmir. I waited in line, with ABHA (Ayushman Bharat Health Account)
token already generated, grateful for the digital ease. But not everyone was so lucky.

An elderly man struggled, seeking help to generate his ABHA token, was ignored by all. My heart sank as he faced rebukes from staff inside the ticket counter. Once I got my ticket, I approached him and said, “Chacha Kya Daleel, Chithe Cheya Kaden” (Chacha, do you need a ticket?) His face lit up. Then I helped him generate his token number from my mobile phone that made him so happy, and he blessed me with tears of gratitude. I heard him repeatedly saying, “Gachh Khudaye Kerne Abad, Zae’et Womber Diyenai” (May Allah bless you with long life and usher His bounties on you).
Finally, after leaving the hospital, I headed towards TP Bank Baramulla to deposit my cash. The crowd was thick, everyone rushing to complete transactions, caring least for others. Amidst this chaos, I again spotted an elderly man struggling to fill a withdrawal-slip. People were brushing him off, citing lame excuses. I couldn’t hold back, but approached him, and said, “Walhaez Bahez Demai Bareth Yeh Slip” (Sir, let me fill that slip in for you.) Literally, it just took me seconds. But his eyes welled up as he blessed me loudly, his gratitude echoing through the bank. Truthfully, there are n-number of Samad Kak like elderly we come across everyday, asking for help. But height of the things is this, that we see them and deliberately ignore them pretending that we are busy or lack time. Not only do we miss to receive their abundant blessings and prayers by doing this, but we become the biggest sinners before God.
As I conclude, I am not writing this to show off. I am sharing a plea. I am just like you. My message is simple: let’s show kindness to our elderly loved ones in banks, in hospitals, streets, or elsewhere. They are not strangers–they are our parents, grandparents, and teachers. They have sacrificed greatly for us when we were weak and helpless. Let’s care for them now; make their life easy and remember that we will grow old too.

Manzoor Akash, educator & author, is a regular voice in GK’s Senior Citizens’ Lounge