Among several wishes I could think of, one would always be to remember back the streets I left behind: an unforgettable memory of our beloved ancestral place Sari Kallag (Zamuran, Kech) which is left behind but never forgotten.
My father’s village Sari Kallag once echoed with laughter and life, but today it stands silent, with only old houses and broken walls remembering the past. Everyone left their homes, their memories, their stories and the village was left behind like a forgotten chapter in a book.The streets where children once played are empty now, covered in dust and silence. Only the wind walks there.
My father walked away from his village, but a piece of his heart stayed behind, hidden in every stone and every ruin. The village still breathes not with people, but with memories. Old mud houses, cracked walls, and fallen roofs whisper the stories of those who once called it home. Time has turned the village into ruins, but in the eyes of those who remember, it is still alive. The doors are broken, the windows are gone, but every wall still knows the names of the people who once lived there. It is a village without voices, without footsteps but only memories watching over the ruins.
Nature is slowly taking back the land, but it cannot erase the love and struggles of the people who built it.Though abandoned, the village is not forgotten; it lives in our stories, in our blood, and in the silent tears of those who left it behind.
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