A few years ago on a cold, snowy New Year’s eve, I was lying on a mattress on the floor in Phuphee’s kitchen, struggling to fall asleep. As a little girl, when I was anxious and unable to sleep, Phuphee would scoop me up in her arms and bring me into the kitchen where I would fall into a deep slumber. I was meant to travel back to England that week, but the continuous snow had made flying impossible. So, I left Srinagar and went to stay with Phuphee.

Since we were right in the middle of chillai kalaan (a period of extreme cold weather), the daan wasn’t allowed to go out. Phuphee would come in, often in the middle of the night, and feed it kindling or bits of wood. Just as I was about to fall asleep, I heard her footsteps.

‘Shoang myoan gaash [sleep, light of my eyes],’ she says, almost in a whisper. Though I cannot see her, I hear her light the kindling and then, a few moments later, I hear her praying. I try again to sleep, but nothing works. I find myself recalling how this whole year has been like this. I have carried this unnamed despair with me, but I have been unable to figure out what is causing it. I pull the covers........

© The Hindu