When a fire sparked a sense of belonging

I have lived in Lal Bazaar since my birth. However, it had just been a place to live until one fateful day changed my perception for ever.

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I still remember that winter afternoon of 2016 like it was yesterday. I was sitting cross legged on the floor, eating lunch and watching a movie. Just another normal day. Suddenly, I heard a strange crackling sound. I looked around and saw smoke curling out from one of the rooms. Panic hit me like a wave. I ran straight to the switches and turned off the MCBs, shut the lights. My hands were trembling. My father wasn’t home and my mother was trying to keep calm, but I could see the fear on her face.

And then she screamed. Just once. Loud. Desperate. Somehow, the whole street heard it. Within minutes, men from every nearby house came rushing — some with buckets, others with wet blankets, many barefoot. I remember an uncle yelling, “Parvai ma bariv aes aai" (Don’t worry, we’re here). Another broke our gate open. Someone pulled me aside gently, away from the smoke. I stood there, clutching my shawl, frozen, watching our neighbours fight the fire like it was their own home. My mother sat down on the steps, trembling. One of the aunties wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, held her hand, and softly said, “Asi chi seari mahfuz Alhamdulillah" (We’re all safe, Alhamdulillah). By the time the fire brigade arrived, it was almost over. The fire was gone.

But something else had taken its place — a deep, lasting sense of belonging. That day, Lal Bazar stopped being just an address. It became home but this time in my heart — forever.

Sana Showkat Mir, Srinagar