“In those days the first mass upsurge of the people of Kashmir was taking place against the princely rule. Its objectives were not very clear then. and the middle-class young men felt quite bewildered and had little sympathy for the struggle of the people. Sometimes jokes were cracked at the expense of Kashmiris, who would stampede in the face of a lathi-charge and leave heaps of their chappals (footware) and lohis (warm blankets) behind on the ground. While the sentiment against the British was strong, there was little sympathy for the struggling Kashmiris. Balraj, therefore sprang quite a surprise one day, when he said, sitting among friends: “Why, all the purse-strings in the state are either in the hands of the Maharaja or the Punjabi traders who do not belong here and who exploit the local inhabitants.”
Balraj’s onservation was disturbing to many ears.
Balraj’s association with Kashmir, starting from early thirties, was to become deep and intimate. Kashmir became for him a kind of second home. He revelled deeply in its idyllic surroundings, long hikes, long swims in the lakes, and mountain-climbing. Kashmir was to become for him a place of deep personal attachments. It was here that he wrote some of his charming little poems and stories It was also to become a field for his cultural and literary activities in the years to come.”
~ Balraj My Brother by Bhisham Sahni (first published in 1981).
Bulbul. Gurgaon. 2012. Aug 9.
End should have been yellow.
O bulbul, strange bird!
Your loud call was so very sudden
That my sad heart gave one wild leap,
For in a flash my world was quite transformed
Full of roses, bulbuls and spring verdure
I had been reading a Greek play
My mind absorbed, my fancy feeding
On a king’s story, so true to life,
Where new strife treads on the heels of the old.
Though silver lay on the tree and around,
When you struck your harp, blossoms came
And my winged fancy soared to heaven –
Spring often does bewitch one’s eyes.
The sun shone bright in an azure sky;
A snow-white cloud sailed, not very far.
We stood, enraptured, gazing at the lake,
My love and I, in an island bower.
Suddenly some one knocked at the door,
Fled was the dream and I was awake.
A cold gust rushed in like a raider,
And back I was where I had been.
I have fastened doors and windows;
Icicles on all sides sparkle like glass;
A black cloud blanket wraps up the sky;
A chill wind pierces the marrow of my bones.
The last chinar leaf on the branch
Hangs withered and lifeless like a corpse.
Drunk with power, midwinter has his day,
Even the fire pot we cling to is cold.
You are a strange bird, o bulbul!
How can I forget that in dreary midwinter
You made me roam in flowering meadows?
~ Ghulam Nabi Firaq. Translated by Trilokinath Raina. From ‘mahjoor and after: Modern Kashmiri Poetry’.
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Update:
Bilbitchur. Bulbul.
Jammu. 2012. Sept 8.
The yellow bottomed one.
If you know a Kashmiri who you would, just out of common courtesy, ask a question about Kashmir, a simple ‘Aur Aaj Kal Waha Kay Halaat Kaisay Hai?’ but then end-up praying to your God may guy please drop dead because he wouldn’t just shut up going on and on about Kashmir until you have learn’t by heart all the clauses and sub-clauses in article 370 and the exact chronology of signing of the Instrument of Accession, before you even get a chance to offer your sympathies or apologies, leave alone a solution, that there, that crazy Kashmiri guy with possible terrorist looks, would have been me. Back when I was in college, the ignorance of Indians about Kashmir infuriated me and like any other good Kashmir, I took upon the charge of educating Indians about the real Kashmir. I became the resident Kashmir expert of the college, of Chai ki Dukan, of Cinema Hall, of train, of bus. You could ask m anything you want but the problem was that a question asked at around 11 P.M. would often end-up in a session lasting till 5 A.M., with at least last 2 hours of the session often ending-up with me talking to myself. After a few such sessions with Indians from all corners of the country, I soon learnt that there are basically two type of Indian listeners to ‘Kashmir Ki Kahani’. First Type, Sympathizers: those who mean good, who do want to know it all, but because of reasons beyond their control, can’t stay awake beyond 11:30 P.M.. Note to self: the story has to be short, precise, not too much details but juicy all the time. Second Type, Antagonizers: they just want in on dirty details. These otherwise normal human beings on usage of some specific keywords like ‘Muslims’, ‘Islam’, ‘Pakistan’, ‘Hindus’ transform into raging chimpanzees from Space Odyssey, even maybe a bit more advanced because at times they actually beg to be deliberately fed these magic words. I once was made to tell the story in a train. Ten minutes into the story the guys cut me off, ‘Yaar, Maza Nahi Aa raha‘. Why? Because not enough people were dying in the story (and I had only told them about exploits of Lalitaditya yet!). I made another note to self: Some Indian have seen and known much more violence than Kashmiris, your stories won’t move even a hair inside their ear, not unless your Kashmir story involves a neutron bomb accidently going off in Kangri of a Kashmiri terrorist who was going to bring it to Delhi, and the blast taking out entire Kashmir and half of Pakistan, problem solved. But how many nuclear explosions can one have. But, I did not lose hope in humanity I continued to bore people with stories of Kashmir. And just so that Kashmiris don’t feel left out I even started a blog to bore Kashmiris with stories of Kashmir. This blog. Do you realize the efforts it takes to bore Kashmiris with Kashmir story. Ask me. It became such an effort that I forgot all about educating Indians.
But that was until a couple of months back when Sumit Kumar e-mailed me to inform that it was an old post of mine that led him to Andrew Whitehead’s ‘A Mission in Kashmir’ which went on to be one of the sources for his comic take on events around 1947 in Kashmir, the freakishly funny Kashmir Ki Kahani Part – 1. Part 1 involved story about the genesis of the problem. Part 2 was going to be about rise of Sheikh Abdullah. He asked me if I could help him a bit with that. A chance to mess with…eer… re-educate the two type of Indians about Kashmir in an entirely fun new way. I was in. What followed was a series of emails on the subject.
Dear friends, let me remind you of a very cheesy past-time activity that we all indulged in with great passion growing up at downtown Srinagar; Window Gazing.
Before I begin, I want to admit, to the hard fact that the second inference of “window gazing” dawned on me only after migration to Delhi. I realized that these parts staring at someones window amounted to an “uncultured act” and something that ought to be corrected immediately .
But back home in Srinagar our window gazing was entirely of the reverse nature; Whenever we needed a break, we would just sit and gaze out from inside the window and appreciate the passing life of the day. It was an art form. For older folks, it must have been akin to meditation.
Before I attempt to dwell further into the subject, allow me to recreate the scene, that made Gazing-out a passionate act filled with the experience that left us with a feeling of connection and appreciation, of love rooted in the neighborhood.
Need for Gazing out:
It is said that Finnish people, the people who gave us Nokia, were prompted to mobile communications simply for the reason that harsh winters would otherwise prevent physical interaction. We in Kashmir perhaps as a society must have been in similar frame of mind when as a solution we indulged in “Window Gazing” as the medium of communication.
The Act:
Memories of a typical “Window Gazing” for us would today read something like following:
Observing the pedestrians.
If your house be on a river bank, watching the river flow and the boats.
Listening to Radio Commentary for better reception would always be better near the window.
Watching the snow fall.
Watching a neighborhood fight.
If you be ill and parents not letting you to go out; a consolation would be a view through the window of friends playing in the angun, yard.
Watching old men and women passing their days.
Making important announcements and listening to important announcements.
During lunch time – Vidya Bhavan class mates would “window gaze” across the river to see the activities of girls college; back benchers had the premium view.
List is endless …..
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To this list I would like to add a memory shared by my father. Sometimes, he used to sit on the window to watch Katij (Barn Swallow) chase and evade passing cars and people.
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Update: Additional Input and a beautiful old photograph from D.N. Kaul Ji shared via email by Arun Jalali Ji. ‘Buethuk dari- dakas’ is a term that I too have heard from my elders but only now I understand its meaning.
There used to be various types of windows in a Kashmiri pandit’s house.
1. Front Facade Windows – These windows would open to the common or slightly bifurcated compounds of cluster of neighbour’s houses. The window ledges were designed to maintain the height of window size to suite a normal adult to rest his/her arms on window frame while sitting over there. While as, a child guard (Dum-dier) was also fixed. The window ledge were well furnished to make the sitting comfortable for the long sittings. The window gazing from front facade windows were not apprehended as peeping or probing, Because all neighbours around had already recognized it at the back of their mind. Knowingly or unknowingly these windows were used for many purposes:
a. Security purpose (a vigil) – as was required.
b. Keeping eye on visitors or tresspasser and any day to day activities, in any of the neighbours’ house – for good intentions or in some cases for inquisitiveness.
c. For spitting, coughing out or creating hullabaloo, to dilute the quietness of winter hours (which used to be very depressing at times).
d. Window gazing was very beneficial to older persons to keep their blood pressure under control.
2. Back Facade Windows – These windows at the back of the houses were generally opening to either a street (Kocha) or far neighbours’ house. Gazing from these windows of course would not be etiquette. Generally gentlemen would not gaze from these windows. It was done very rarely and only when actually need be. Yes if young boys or girls would be caught gazing, they would be scolded by elders ( buethuk dari- dakas).
3. Windows at the upper story’s Cantilever (Dubb Deir ) – Gazing from these windows was for panorama. One would gaze at far away house, street, like in Srinagar-Jehlem or Kutt Koal River. One would gaze at stars or moon -faraway snow Cladded Mountains, roofs of other houses.
4. Wogha (Roshan dan)- These used to be very small window on a height, not easily reachable
Two Decades of Dogri Literature
Shivanath
Sahitya Akademi
First Published in 1997.
Rs. 55
Echoes & Shadows: A selection of Dogri Short Stories
Sahitya Akademi
First Published in 1992
Rs. 75
Padma Sachdev, A Drop in the Ocean: An Autobiography
Translation by Uma Vasudev & Jyotsna Singh
National Book Trust, India
First Edition, 2011
Rs. 180
Abhinavagupta
by G.T. Deshpande
Sahitya Akademi
First Published in 1989. Reprinted in 1992, 2009
Medieval Indian literature: An Anthology
Volume 2
Edited by K. Ayyappa Paniker
Sahitya Akademi
First Printed in 1999. Reprinted in 2010.
Rs. 500
Picked this one for its Kashmiri selection. Along with translations of some rare poetic works ranging from 14th to 16th century, it also offers the script of two Bhand Pathers, Diriz Pather and Buhir/Batte Pather.
Vaishava Art and Iconography of Kashmir
Bansi Lal Malla
Abhinav Publications
First Published in 1996
Rs. 400
Art and Crafts Jammu and Kashmir Land People Culture
D.N. Saraf
Abhinav Publications
First Published in 1987
Rs.800
Yes, managed to get a copy of this out-of-print book which perhaps still remains one of the most beautifully produced books on the state, its people and culture. One of the rare books that doesn’t rely only on beautiful pictures (which it has plenty) but also provides genuine well-researched information on its subject.
