Srinagar, Aug. 23 -- Nostalgic "In those days, my mornings began with the sound of approaching footsteps-neighbours arriving with baskets of grains, golden maize, and bundles of sun-dried chillies".I was once more than stone. I was a companion, a witness, a keeper of the village's rhythm. My place was fixed beneath the broad, comforting arms of a walnut tree. Its leaves whispered to me in every breeze, and its shade fell upon my round body like a mother's embrace. In those days, my mornings began with the sound of approaching footsteps-neighbours arriving with baskets of grains, golden maize, and bundles of sun-dried chillies. They came not in silence, but in laughter. Around me, there was always a soft hum of life, like the gentle rise a...