Remembering Hameeda Bano (Daughter of Late Khwaja Abdul Aziz Sikander) and my paternal aunt (Phuphi)
(Passed away on 10 December 2023)
In loving memory of Hameeda Bano, daughter of the late Khwaja Abdul Aziz Sikander, a respected Sufi of Srinagar, who peacefully departed from this world in December 2023. She leaves behind a legacy defined by faith, simplicity, and quiet strength that touched the lives of all who knew her.
Born and raised in Srinagar, Hameeda Bano grew up in a household steeped in spiritual values and moral discipline. The daughter of a practising Sufi, she absorbed from an early age a love for faith, humility, and service. Having lost her mother in childhood, she was brought up by her stepmother with whom she shared an unusually affectionate and trusting bond—one that defied traditional notions of separation and was instead marked by mutual warmth and understanding.
Her education extended through middle school, during which she developed clear proficiency in Urdu reading and comprehension. Those closest to her often believed that, had she been given the opportunity to study further, she would have excelled academically. Life, however, took her along a different path—one guided by duty, devotion, and enduring faith.
She married into a respected landlord family of Khrew, Pampore, and embraced her new surroundings with grace and adaptability. Despite her urban upbringing in Srinagar, she adjusted beautifully to village life, balancing its demands with a gentle dignity that earned her respect within the family and community alike. Her humility, warmth, and quiet perseverance defined her presence in every household she entered.
A devoted wife and mother, she dedicated her life to her family—her son and daughter remained her heart’s greatest joy. Her daughter settled in Srinagar, and Hameeda took great pride in her family, cherishing her grandchildren deeply. Her granddaughters adored her, even as she often joked about not having the patience to chase after young children. Her family would warmly recall her saying that in joint families, children were not raised by mothers alone, but by many loving hands—a sentiment that captured both her humour and her cultural wisdom.
Her visits to Srinagar were events of delight for her family, particularly for her younger brother, who deeply cherished her presence. During these stays, she would bring lively stories, updates, and village chatter that filled the home with laughter and nostalgia. She and her sister-in-law shared a comfortable camaraderie, with the household taking special care to ensure that she rested and felt at home—free for a time from the routine of daily responsibilities.
Hameeda Bano’s deep faith guided every aspect of her life. She recited the Qur’an daily and had immense devotion to local shrines, which she visited regularly. Although she never studied the Qur’an’s meanings formally, her recitation stemmed from unshakeable belief and spiritual sincerity. Religion for her was not a formality—it was lived experience, marked by gratitude, patience, and complete trust in divine wisdom.
Family members fondly recall how perceptive she could be. We remember her light-hearted forecast made during our childhoods—that my youngest brother, born with fair hair and blue eyes, would someday marry a “meem,” a European woman. The family would later smile in wonder when that seemingly playful prophecy came true. Beneath her laughter often lay a quiet depth of intuition—a rare sensitivity that marked her as someone both simple and insightful.
Life was not without challenges. While her daughter married and built a life in Srinagar, her son chose not to marry, a decision that weighed heavily on her heart. She often hoped to see him as a groom, and when that wish remained unfulfilled, it left a lingering sadness she carried privately. To some, her later struggle with dementia seemed intertwined with this unspoken maternal yearning—a sorrow she bore with the same quiet dignity that defined her life.
In her seventies, Hameeda Bano faced her final illnesses with extraordinary calm. Despite battling dementia and later developing a tumor, she displayed resilience that astonished those around her. Doctors were themselves surprised to find her free from the severe pain that such conditions usually cause. Her family attributed this endurance to her simplicity of soul and deep faith—the same unyielding belief in divine mercy that had sustained her through every trial.
Even in illness, she continued to recognize her loved ones and recall incidents from the distant past, moments that bridged the fading clarity of her mind with the enduring strength of her heart. Her passing was serene—gentle, dignified, and without complaint. She left this world as she had lived in it: quietly, faithfully, and at peace.
The family remembers Hameeda Bano not only for her religious devotion but also for her sincerity, humour, and rare ability to find contentment in modest living. She was a woman of few demands, many prayers, and immeasurable grace. Her life stands as a reflection of an era when love expressed itself through patience, sacrifice, and steadfast moral strength.
As her family—her daughter, son, grandchildren, and beloved brother’s family—remember her, they find comfort in the values she embodied. Her voice, her stories, and her prayers remain part of their everyday memory. In her quiet way, she taught them the meaning of endurance and faith—reminding all who knew her that the truest kind of beauty lies in simplicity.
May Allah forgive her shortcomings, accept her lifelong devotion, and grant her eternal peace in Jannah.
Inna Lillahi Wa Inna Ilayhi Raji’un.
To God we belong, and to Him we return.
(Mushtaq Ul Haq Ahmad Sikander is nephew of Hameeda Bano, and a Writer-Activist based in Srinagar, Kashmir. He can be reached at [email protected])