I'd like to talk about Mrs Akhtar, who lives in the same housing society as my family in Rawalpindi. She's a retired schoolteacher in her sixties, and almost everyone in our area knows her.
I've known her since I was a little girl; she taught my older brother, and she still calls me by my childhood nickname, which is a bit embarrassing now that I'm twenty-eight and a dentist.
She does several things to bring people together. Every month she organises a gathering in the small park in the middle of our block, where each family brings a dish. She also started a messaging group for the society, which was meant for practical things like water shortages but has turned into a place where people share news and help each other. Last year she set up an evening class where teenagers teach older residents to use smartphones, and the older people teach the teenagers traditional recipes. It sounds odd, but it's very popular.
Her work matters for a few reasons. Before she started these things, people in our area barely talked; most families lived separate lives behind their gates. Now, when someone's ill or there's a power cut, neighbours check on each other. During the floods two years ago, the group organised food and dry clothes for families whose ground floors were flooded within a few hours. I also think she's given older residents a sense of purpose, especially those who live alone. I don't think a community happens by itself. It needs one or two people who are willing to knock on doors and invite others, and in our area that person is her.