On market days, vendors would pause mid-sale to listen. Children would sit cross-legged near her steps, their eyes wide with wonder. Even the most hurried passerby could not help but slow down, if only for a verse or two. And though time moved on, the world outside changed, and new voices rose with newer songs, in her quiet corner of the town, Humaira’s voice remained—a soft, enduring echo of something timeless.
