Srinagar, June 29 -- In the old houses of Kashmir, the ones with carved windows and wooden eaves sagging under the weight of snow, time used to move slowly.

Grandparents would sit on creaking verandas, telling stories that stretched across decades. Mothers would fold the day into soft bundles: quilts, bread, hand-stitched sweaters. Fathers would return from the fields with mud on their boots and a pocketful of advice.

A child, in such a house, did not need to search for company. Love was close. It lived in glances and in the slow rituals of daily life.

Now the houses are busier. There are phones ringing in every room. There are screens flickering late into the night. The stories are shorter, if told at all.

And the children are growin...