A Walk Through The City

(MENAFN- Kashmir Observer)
File photo

By Aisha Hasnain

I'm in the Goni Khan market. Around me, old beggars sit by the road, but one elderly man stands out.

He isn't asking for alms. Instead, he's trying to earn a living, selling cheap carry bags for Rs 10 or 20. He wears them on his arms like bangles, walking silently among the crowd. Muzamilah is with me. We take a narrow lane that loops us back to the main road.

We see another elderly man in a pheran. His right hand is held out like a beggar's, palm facing upward. But his left arm stays tucked inside his cloak.

Then I notice his left hand emerging from the collar of his pheran, holding a smartphone to his ear as he speaks to someone. The scene feels both familiar and surreal: an image of poverty and technology layered together.

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Near Dal Lake, a bold sign reads: Wine Shop. However you look at it-through a religious lens, a moral one, or even a scientific one-alcohol does more harm than good.

I was dressed in a beautiful ethnic outfit that day. Make-up isn't really my thing, but I was groomed and carried a small basket in hand. Muzamilah and I were rushing to catch a cab when we passed a cherry vendor.“Cherries! Cherries!” he called out.

Then, swept by the moment, he added with a grin,“The way she is groomed!” It made me laugh.

Later, at a well-known department store, I was asked to leave my handbag at the entrance with the security guard. That hadn't happened before. I complied but decided to speak to the manager.

“We've had some disturbances lately-shoplifting,” he explained.“So we're not allowing handbags inside.”

It saddened me. But theft is a global issue. The fact that every language on earth has words for feelings like love and greed shows how much we humans share, our struggles and our flaws.

In another cab, a young woman approached my window. She was nicely dressed, with some makeup on.“Is this going to Budgam?” she asked. It wasn't.

She walked back to the bus stand. A car slowed nearby. She leaned toward the window, spoke briefly, and stepped away. No smiles passed between them, no gestures of familiarity, just a cold exchange. She hesitated, then returned, opened the front door, and drove off with him. The moment lingered.

A year or two ago, on a couple of late evenings, my father and I were heading home when the streets had mostly emptied. I remember seeing young women standing by the roadside, alone. I didn't understand it then. But now, the memory settles differently.

In a final lane we passed, a man probably in his mid-thirties was arguing with a woman old enough to be his mother. She seemed timid. I caught her saying,“Fear God...”

Her husband stood beside her. He looked like a decent man, said nothing rude, just helpless. The younger man snapped,“Show this attitude to villagers and Gujjars, not me!”

I turned back and asked a nearby shopkeeper what the issue was.“There wasn't enough space for his car to pass, so I asked him to back up,” he said.

I don't know whether he truly couldn't move forward, but nothing justifies how he spoke to those elders. He was another overgrown child who had no real argument, just a need to insult and diminish others. His words showed neither education nor dignity.

If we want to understand where we're headed, what kind of society we are building, we must look to the developed world, not just to admire but to learn.

The West has set the benchmarks. Whether it's education, jobs, or lifestyle, we aspire to match them. But what we often miss is that their progress didn't come from wearing designer clothes or driving luxury cars. It came from education, discipline, and respect for others.

• Aisha Hasnain writes under a pen name and can be reached at [email protected] .

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