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SearchKashmir on your Wall #1


Every once in a while, someone would email me asking for an old photograph of Kashmir, a piece of SearchKashmir, so that they can put it on their wall, on their ‘Kashmir wall’. I would gladly oblige.

A couple of months back, a reader, Bhawna asked for a bunch of old photographs for a wall in her ‘Kashmir room’. I helped her with the photographs, but this time I asked for something back. I asked her to send me the images of her wall once it was done. I wanted to see what people are doing with these images. What it means to them.

Here’s Bhawna’s Kashmir wall:

I am thankful to Bhawna for sharing these images and her wall!

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If you have a piece of SearchKashmir on your wall, do share your wall.

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Superman complex

Doctor, what do you call this condition…this particular complex displayed by the Kashmiri Pandits?
I call this ‘Superman’ complex. An average Kashmiri Pandit walks this earth like the man of steel from Krypton. The explanation is simple. Since 1990, they think they are Supermen. Think about it. A planet gets destroyed, someone from it survives and finds shelter on a new planet where he can’t truly be himself even if the new planet has made him more powerful. He has taken upon himself to fix and protect his adopted planet, lest it ends up like his home planet. And he does it more zealously than the actual inhabitants. He is often misunderstood, almost despised and certainly envied. He gets weak in the knees anytime he comes close to a lost fragment from his old planet, his Kryptonite, the other ‘K’s. Often his villains are from his old planet while allies are from the adopted planet. His powers increase as he gets closer to Delhi, Delhi being the proverbial sun. And goes for meditation to Jammu, his Fortress of Solitude, to talk to dead ancestors. So you see, Pandits are essentially living out the Superman fantasy.
Thank you Doctor Saheb for the gyaan. Tohi chev mahaan. Namaskaar.
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Untitled Post

“It is here today that a struggle is being fought,
not in the battlefield but in the minds.”
~ Nehru
That winter, out of mind,
two parts of his brain declared war on each other.
Third one sat unperturbed in a corner thinking,
‘Let it all be over. I shall wait. Imagine, I am not even here.’
City was hit by palsy.
Shivers, they say, lasted two decades.
A decade later, many empty skulls with broken windows
were sold cheap in flea markets of his brain.
Many a birds made nest in them even as
many a birds had flown away to foreign lands. Or, to paradise.
Two decades later, they asked him,
‘Son, what do you see in your sleep?’
In delirium, he replied,
‘I see the demon of civilisation dance.
I see two elephants,
each with memories running back hundred years,
lock their tusks in violent embrace.
I see Mihirakula laugh.
I hear the elephants shriek as they fall off the tea table.
I see many a skulls trample under their feet.
I see they all are now prints on your kaleen.
And I see a third elephant too in the room,
in a corner silently knitting yarn
to keep war war-m for a winter lasting
another hundred year.’
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Untitled Post

bonn’e gal’mit Shaster hund daryaav
heyrr’e kre’hinis asmaanas na gasaan graav
manz kani girdas pyeth bihith
Lall’e Ded wadaan, ‘Magar, Battan gov na khaak’
Mansur Hallaj chakaan naar, ‘Hum kya chahte, azaadi’

Below, a river of molten Iron
Above, an indifferent black sky
In the middle
afloat on a loaf of bread
Lal Ded cries, ‘But, what about Kashmiri Pandits?’
Masoor Hallaj again breathes fire, ‘ What we want, Freedom!’

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Untitled Post



Is your city dead and decaying?
Does it smell of rotten flesh?
Are its trees of plastic?
Gardens…well maintained wastelands?
Do you still worry, ‘Waters are poisoned!’?
Wonder, ‘Where have the great lakes gone?’
Where is Maar?
Where is Kul?
Are you now allergic to spring flowers too?
Are your boots still muddied when it rains?
Is snow a recurrent disease?
Is Sri a pain to the eyes, for you can see
what has become of this city
Just tell me:
Are you from Srinagar too?
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Untitled Post



From my throne high up on 
Parbat
every morning
Down below
I see him make his way to the temple, 
the mosque, the shop, the job…
Every morning
I hurl down a pebble at his head
Every morning
my head hurts


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Lyrics, translation: Tse Yewaan Roshe Chhukh, Nata, Hosha Dalayoo Madano

1–2 minutes

Rasul Mir’s ‘Tse Yewaan Roshe Chhukh, Nata, Hosha Dalayoo Madano’

Tse Yewaan Roshe Chhukh, Nata, Hosh Dalayoo Madano
Be Rivaan Harn’e Cheshman, Sorma Chalaayoo Madano


Are you coming my beloved? Or else, should I lose my senses, my love
Are you coming or should I weep the collyrium off my gazelle eyes, my love

Ashkin ha Daadi Hyotnam Naar Paanas, Khaak me Gov
Ashkay Aab’nabad Zan Bo galaayoo Madano

Sick of Love, my body on fire, it turns to Ash
My tears dissolve me, like a lump of sugar in water, my love

Tse Yewaan Roshe Chhukh, Nata, Hosh Dalayoo Madano

Are you coming my beloved? Or else, should I lose my senses, my love
Mae Nyutham Tchoori Dil Mastoori, Kortham Hoori Kasoor
Badanas Suur Maalayee, Door Chalayooo Madano

You stole my chaste heart, a fairy I, but now I am spoiled
I shall rub these ashes to my body, and run away, my love.

Gonchi zan Nyeer Fatith, Fair Gil Zan Pardhi Tchatith
Be chyanee Khaar Gasith, do Baar Pholoyoo, Madano 

Like a flower blooms, tearing the veil, I shall roam
In your name I be destroyed, you blossom again, my Love

[Updated with corrections suggested by Muneeb Haroon and Asma Shaw]

Rivaan: crying
Harn’e Cheshman: gazelle eyes

Ashkin: Love…
Ashkay: tears…
Naabad: sugarcandy
Mastoor: Chaste
hoori: fairy

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