Srinagar, Aug. 15 -- I remember the sound before the smell.

The crackle of wood in thedaan, the soft thud of logs settling, and the hiss when fresh meat hit a hot pot.

My grandmother would be there, apron on, head covered, having performed ablution before stepping into the kitchen. She moved with the steady grace of the fire itself.

The meat, bought fresh from a trusted butcher, was cleaned before our eyes, washed, and cooked within the hour.

In Kashmiri family, meat was honour. It welcomed guests, celebrated marriages, and marked festivals.

Every Eid, engagement, or birth carried the scent of something simmering over the hearth. Women from neighbouring homes would gather, sleeves rolled up, kneading minced meat for goshtaba, grindin...