Lessons from My Mother

In Kashmir’s hills and homes, a selfless mother silently builds a foundation that endures every day.

- Zahoor Mehdi

I felt the strength of my mother’s hands long before I understood what they taught me.

In our small home in Kashmir, she filled every corner with a presence as bright as the sunlight over the hills outside. Her lap was my first classroom, her voice the first guide I learned to follow.

Everything she said and did shaped the person I was becoming.

She taught me to speak with care, to fill my words with respect and warmth. The first prayers I learned were hers. Her voice guided me through syllables I could barely pronounce, shaping my understanding of gratitude and devotion.

Mistakes were met with gentle correction, turning early failures into lessons in humility and humaneness.