Shah Boba is revered in the whole village as an example of sincerity, devotion to work, sacrifice, and strength
Muntashir Kifayat Hussain
It was the 1990s, and I was a student in class eight. The dawn, with reddish clouds spread across the sky, reminded me of my grandmother’s often-used adage: “Reddish clouds appear when innocent people are murdered.” I was playing with my friends in my village at Narbal when suddenly we heard people crying and lamenting everywhere. Chaos gripped the whole village. We rushed towards the epicentre of the mourning.
A lady in her twenties caught my eye. She was holding her seven daughters tightly against her bosom, the children crying so innocently that mountains would have fallen. The seven sisters were crying, “Baba… baba… baba… you left us, baba… we are now orphans, baba… come back, baba…” The mother, Shah Boba, on one side consoling them, while on the other side, tears rolled down her face continuously. We learned that Shah Boba had lost her husband in a mine blast. The seven daughters were now orphans.
I was thirteen years old. I went close to Shah Boba. I could hear her—buzzing sentences floating in tears, addressing her dead husband: “You left me and our seven daughters… you broke the promise… where shall I go now? Why didn’t you take us with you? The days ahead will be meaningless to our daughters and to me…”
Everyone started weeping with her.
The days passed. Shah Boba was given a position in the Education Department as a Class IV employee under SRO. Her first posting was at Higher Secondary Magam as a sweeper. She did her job of raising her children and sweeping simultaneously, as no child care leave culture existed in those days. She returned home exhausted from the day’s toil.
Being her neighbour, I could see her daily in the morning and evening, helping her little daughters fall asleep with a loud lullaby:
“Hush, baby, hush… your baba is not coming back… go to sleep, my babies… your baba is in heaven waiting for us…
Hush, baby, hush… your baba broke the promise of accompanying… go to sleep, my sweet babies…”
Everyone in our village watched Shah Boba’s tireless fight against all odds throughout those years.
I was appointed in 2007 as a general line teacher. Often, out of curiosity, I would visit the higher secondary school where Shah Boba worked as a sweeper, watching her from a distance. I saw her working so hard at her office, hardly letting anyone know the misery she carried back at home. She was calm, composed, and dutiful. Everyone praised the way she did her work, keeping the school premises neat and clean. But the people around were ignorant of the fight she fought at home.
On a lucky day in 2024, Shah Boba was transferred to BHS Narbal, where I work as a teacher. I learned a great deal by closely watching her until her retirement in April 2026. Knowing the hardship she had endured all her life, I used to pile up chairs and tables at 3:45 PM, feeling proud to help this iron lady. She was always punctual and never late. She used to leave the school at 5 PM, cleaning everything before leaving.
Her five daughters are now married. Shah Boba now has grandchildren playing around her, unaware of the agony she once faced.
Shah Boba’s life reminds me of this poem:
The coffee sits for one today.
A ghost still hangs upon the stairs.
I watch the golden sun at play
But find no comfort in its glare.
Your chair is silent, firm and deep,
A hollow space within the room.
I share my secrets half asleep,
Then wake to emptiness and gloom.
The world moves on with reckless haste
While I am anchored to the floor.
A life suddenly gone to waste,
A hand that knocks upon no door.
They speak of time to heal the pain,
But time is just a slow, cruel creep.
I stand alone within the rain
And hold the promise I must keep.
I salute Shah Boba’s courage. She has written a sacred book with her life. The pages, when turned over, offer lessons to learn. She taught us how to live when everything around is grim and dark. Some pages of her book are a source of strength to those who give up over small things.
Shah Boba is now revered in the whole village as an example of sincerity, devotion to work, sacrifice, and strength. She is a torchbearer.
The writer is a teacher at Boys High School, Narbal
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