Our elders were people of great virtue. Even after passing away, they never stopped watching over their families. In difficult times, they would guide us by appearing in our dreams. That was their way of staying with us and making sure we were never left alone, even after death.

Recently, I had a dream where my late grandmother Shamali Begum, affectionately called Moujji, spoke to me. She asked me to tell her son, my maternal uncle Ghulam Ahmad Mir, why he cut down the pomegranate tree—locally called Dae’n Thaer—in the park. Next day, when I called my Mamu up about it, I was recalled of everything about my grandmother who was an elderly role model in the village. 

When I think of my grandmother, I remember her as a perfect mix of warmth, affection, wisdom, and love. At home, we simply called her Mouj. But in the entire village, everyone knew her fondly as Appa—someone who was dear to every family in the neighborhood. I have often heard the village women call her Haejj Baye. That was because she had performed Hajj at a time when people traveled by ship, long before air travel became common. I lived........

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