The Simplicity We Forgot

In a culture once defined by modesty, the hunger for display has begun to reshape memory, kinship, and the rhythm of everyday life.

- Umair ul Umar

Kashmir once moved with platonic patience.

Winters drew us close to the glow of kangris, to smoke curling from mud stoves, to Noon chai spilling its pink fragrance through narrow alleys. Neighbours drifted in and out of each other's courtyards as if walls never existed, voices mingling like wind over deodar branches.

Weddings arrived as simple tents in backyards, with a few dishes shared by many hands. Laughter climbed higher than any music. A home measured its worth by the warmth it offered, by the softness of its welcome, not by the plaster on its walls.

Today, the air tastes different. Family conversations twist toward what can be seen and counted. Men in offices trace the labels on their shoes while the weight of their work fades into silence.

Drones circle weddings like restless insects, capturing moments meant for screens rather than hearts. Even grief wears a costume of display. I have sat in mourning gatherings where the conversation lingered on crockery and silverware, leaving memory and loss to echo silently, almost unheard.