In the far-flung valleys of Kashmir, where the air is crisp and the silence hangs heavy between the mountains, live Mohammad Shaban Lone and his mother, Zoona Begum. Their home, a small structure with mud-plastered walls and a tin roof weathered by years of harsh winters, stands as a quiet testament to endurance to what it means to survive when life strips away comfort but not faith.
Shaban, now in his mid-thirties, was born with a physical disability that limits his movement and independence. For his mother Zoona, every day begins and ends in his care , cooking, cleaning, lifting, comforting, all with hands that tremble not from weakness, but from the exhaustion of years spent in survival mode. Her face carries lines of age, but also the serenity of a woman who has learned to find grace in struggle.
Their story is one that mirrors the plight of many families in Kashmir’s underdeveloped rural pockets, where disability often translates to invisibility. The healthcare systems are distant, both geographically and in empathy. Financial assistance is almost nonexistent. And the social fabric, already frayed by poverty and displacement, leaves families like Zoona’s on the edges of both compassion and policy.
Zoona’s other son has long separated from the family, choosing a life that excludes his mother and differently abled brother. For Zoona, this loss cut deeper than poverty , it was the pain of abandonment, of watching family ties dissolve when support was needed the most. She and Shaban now depend entirely on each other. Their bond is one of necessity, but also of immense love, a wordless understanding that they are all the other has left.
When Miles2Smile reached their home, the team found not despair, but quiet resilience. Despite having little more than a stove, a few blankets, and a corner to sleep, Zoona welcomed the visitors with the gentleness of someone who still believes in goodness. Her frail hands folded in gratitude as she watched rations, clothing, and winter supplies being unpacked not as charity, but as reminders that humanity still exists.
For Shaban, who often sits by the window watching the village pass by, it was the first time in months he saw new faces who weren’t indifferent. He smiled, a soft, fleeting smile that said more than words could. The team spent time listening to their story, not rushing through it but allowing silence to fill the spaces between words, acknowledging their pain and dignity alike.
As the visit came to an end, Zoona said softly, “We don’t ask for much. Only that Allah remembers us through people like you.”
Her words lingered long after the team left, echoing what we at Miles2Smile deeply believe that aid is not merely about relief, but about recognition. Every act of service is a declaration that no one deserves to feel forgotten, no matter how remote their home or how silent their suffering.
For families like Zoona and Shaban’s, survival is an act of faith, and every helping hand is a reaffirmation of that faith. Their story reminds us that disability may limit movement, but it never diminishes dignity and that sometimes, the smallest act of care can restore someone’s sense of belonging to the world.
At Miles2Smile, we continue to seek out such unseen lives to not only provide sustenance but to honor their strength, to remind them that in this vast world, their smiles still matter.
