Spanish Flu in Jammu and Kashmir, 1918



An account of destruction brought by Spanish Flu in Jammu and Kashmir in 1918. Based on State 1921 Census report. This was the pandemic that killed 25–39 million people around the world and decimated about 5% of Indian population back then with about 17 million people dead. Do keep in mind in World War 1 men from Jammu, Poonch went to take part. It was travel necessitated by a far off war that make this flu a fast moving pandemic.  


The heaviest toll of human lives was, however, exacted by the fell epidemic of Influenza, which wrought havoc among the population regardless of climate, . locality, profession, sex or age. The losses reported by the Chief Medical Officers give a. total of 44,514, but some of the reported figures are not quite reliable. The pest started from the city of Jammu, where there were, properly speaking, two attacks: The first which occurred in Au!ruSt 1918, was in a mild form and did not result in much loss of life. The severe and fatal form of the epidemic commenced from the middle of October and the first death in the Jammu city were recorded on 17th October. The transmission of infection by human agency from the city to the villages was, only a matter of days, and the disease soon penetrated into the remotest tracts and even the most isolated and outlying hamlets were unable, to escape the infection. It was a hard task to ascertain the exact number of deaths from Influenza in the city or to discriminate between deaths from War fever- as Influenza was popularly called-and malarial fever which was prevailing simultaneously but yielded to treatment with quinine. The total number of deaths attributed to influenza in the city with a population of over 31,000, in about two months times was 519, against a total death roll of 686. The number of deaths during the corresponding period in 1917 was 164. The highest daily rate of 38 was recorded with a fortnight of the outbreak.

The total mortality from Influenza in the Jammu Province (excluding the city) during the period of four months is reported to be 7,988, but these figures are undoubtedly unreliable, considering that the number of deaths in Kashmir where the epidemic was believed to be less virulent and fatal, amounted according to a rough calculation made by the Chief Medical Officer, to 15,000. This assumption receives further support from the fact that the total mortality from all causes in the Province (including the city) in 1918 stood at 49,800 against 25,817 and 2I,844 respectively in the two years immediately preceding and succeeding the year of Influenza. It is, therefore, obvious that the unprecedentedly heavy mortality of that year is attributable in a very large measure to the ravages of Influenza and the Police report of only 7,988 deaths is a very considerable underestimate of the actual mortality.

In Kashmir the epidemic first appeared in a mild form in August, but this
visit only proved to be the forerunner of the disastrous visitation later on in October. Rapidly travelling as far as Kargil and Ladakh it was raging with full force in the
Ladakh District by the end of November. Fortunately the mortality in Kashmir
does not seem to have been very heavy. The total number of deaths according
to the Chief Medical Officer’s estimate comes to I5,000 against 7,007 reported by
the Police. The unreliable nature of the Police reports has already been discussed,
and as an illustration of the value of these reports it may mentioned that in
Srinagar Municipality only 76 deaths from Influenza were registered by Police against the President’s estimate of at least l,000.

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In the decade the population growth was below normal but still positive at 5.1% (compared to pan India where it was down to just 1.2 percent). However the impact of Spanish flu on the population can be gauged from the fact that the population growth for the previous decade had been 8.69 percent. The decade overall saw more deaths than births across divisions. The reports goes on to say:

The main factor contributing to this result is the prevalence of Influenza epidemic in 1918, which carried away at least 44,514 souls according to the most cautious estimates drawn up by the Chief .Medical Officers. It is a pity that authentic figures of deaths from Influenza are not obtainable, as the reporting agency could not distinguish Influenza from common fever, and as the column for recording the cause of death in the Death register, is not usually filled in. At the same time, the reporting agency both in cities. and the mufassil was thoroughly paralysed by the sudden and widespead nature of the epidemic, and could not be expected to properly discharge their dutees. In these circumstances the Chief Medical Officers had to base their estimates of mortality from Influenza on their general enquiries, assisted by a comparison of the total mortality during the year with the average death rate. Unfortunately the vital statistic of the present decade are as worthless and unreliable as those of the previous decennium.

Bulk of increase in population is explained as “immigration”
In addition, in Mirpur it was estimated 1.6% population of 1911 was dead due to influenza. In Skardu 6.8 %. The population of Punch town which is the capital of Punch Ilaqa decreased from 7,564 in 1911 to 7,026 in 1921. Pattan town (back then freshly coming along Jhelum cart road) lost 10% of population. In the valley it was also noticed that the population of darweshes or fakirs increased by 40% and the report links it to destitution cause by Flu. 
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Scale of Spanish flu deaths in rest of India. The Indian census report notes:

The influenza epidemic of 1918 invaded the continent of India in two distinct waves. The first infection apparently radiated from Bombay and progressed eastward from their, but its origin and foci are uncertain. It may have been introduced from shipping in Bombay district, Delhi, and Meerut in the spring; but the existence of the diseases in epidemic form cannot be established without doubt before June. The diseases became general in India in both the military and civil population during August and infection spread rapidly from place to place by rail, road and water.

People’s history of Kashmiri Hanji

People’s history of Kashmiri Boat People
by Vinayak Razdan
 
A brief look at the history of people who made the water bodies of Kashmir alive. Some unknown facts and lesser known stories. Take a dive.
Haji Family inside a Doonga
1918

In Nilamata purana, the origin of Kashmir valley is told using the Matsya Avatar story. A great deluge, a divine boat of feminine power ferrying all life on the eternal waters of deathless eternal Shiva and this boat being rowed by Narayan in the form of a fish. The story conforms to the strain of Kashmir Shaivism in which female power Shakti brings about the experienced world to life through her interaction with Shiva. In this story half-human, half-fish Narayan is the rower. The doer. The action. The story is told in context of Naubandhana tirath, a mountain site near Kramasaras which we now know as Kausar nag located in the Pir Panjal Range in the Kulgam District’s Noorabad. The site where the divine boat was moored. The story is eerily similar to Abrahamic tale of Noah’s Arc and Jonah. Kashmir was born out of water. Myths as well geology tells us that much. The higher reaches of Kashmir mountains in fact have many sites where boulders have been carved by glacial action over millenniums to arrive at a shape in which a hole appears, a hole as if to tie a boat.

Where there are humans, where there is water, there exist boats, there exist stories.

Matsya Avatar of Vishnu, ca 1870. Uttar Pradesh, India.

I heard the story of Kausarnag’s Naubandana many years ago from a Haenz, the tribe of people in Kashmir often called the descendants of Noah. While the ancient texts from Kashmir take pride in water origins of Kashmir, the people who actually made life possible in water filled land were not evoked much.

In Kalhana’s 12th century chronicle of Kashmir, Rajatarangini, we read about Nishadas, read about old trees along ancient canals, their aging trunks worn smooth by ropes meant for mooring boats. This is the only written testament to Boatmen’s existence in this ancient Kashmir. While history may have forgotten to mention Hanjis. The Hanjis didn’t forget History. For centuries they have been carrying with them oral history of changing geography of Kashmir, stories of cities being born and withering away, routes appearing and dissolving, water rising and falling, they have witnessed all that happened near and far from water bodies. It is thus not an accident that one of the of Rajatarangini’s authenticity as a historical work was provided by a boatman. In the 8th century, King Jayapida, grandson of Lalitaditya, called upon the engineers from Sri Lanka (in Rajatarangini, in typical Kashmiri manner, called “Rakshasas”) to build water reservoirs in Kashmir. Jayapida’s planned to build a water fort called Dvaravati (named after Krishna’s Dwarika). Alexander Cunningham, the 19th century British archaeologist identified Andarkut near Sumbal as Dvaravati. He was wrong and had only discovered half-a-city as the city was supposed to be built in two rings. A few years later George Buhler while looking for Sanskrit Manuscripts in Kashmir was rightly lead by a boatman to a nearby place called Bahirkut which he was able to identify due to its geography as Dvaravati. In this case it appears Brahmins had no immediate recollection of the place, but boatmen did. Sumbal was for centuries the major junction in water highway of Kashmir, it is natural boatmen knew the place more intimately. Interestingly, it is in an 8th century sculpture found in Devsar that we see the earliest model of a Kashmiri boat. The sculpture depicts five Matrikas, the protective mother goddesses being carried on a boat along with musicians. It is a boat procession, probably a representation of idol immersion scene, something still done in Bengal. Historical texts are bit descriptive about the type of boats in Kashmir and how they came into existence. Pravarasena II, late 6th century, can be considered the builder of Srinagar as the place of canals, bridges and water bodies, the way it is even seen now. He is also the builder of first boat-bridge in Srinagar, somewhere near the present Zaina Kadal. If the bridge was of boats, we can assume it was work of boatmen. Kalhana mentions many a boat journeys, however in his text not much is written about the people who made these journeys possible. There is a modern divisive theory popular in Kashmir that Hanjis were “imported” from Sri Lanka in Kashmir by an ancient King. Multiple books and experts mention it, often mentioning the name of the king as Parbat Sen and place named as Sangaldip. Writer G.M. Rabbani mentions that the King as Pravarasena II and the place as Singapore! Here lies the story of how colonial era writings shaped our modern understanding of Kashmir and how lack of further quality research and societal bias often made weapons out of them. The origin of this theory is a casual mention by Walter Roper Lawrence’s encyclopaedic work for future administrators of Kashmir, The Valley of Kashmir (1895). This work is still used as the primary source for what we now commonly know about Hanji. Lawrence’s primary (uncredited) source was ‘Tarikh-i- Hasan’ of Moulvi Ghulam Hasan Shah (1832-1898) written based on a lost work in Persian (complied out of older Sanskrit works) by Mula Ahmed, court poet of Zain-ul-abdin (1422-1474). The work (original ironically lost in a boating accident) is highly prone to mistakes as it seems a lot of meaning of original texts is lost in translation. The work even provides an alternate history of Dal Lake. King Pravarasena built a dam on Vitasta river at a place called Nawahpurah and made the river flow into his newly built city around Hari Parbat area. Then many decades later during the era of a King named Duralab Darun, there was a huge flood that lead to the creation of a lake which just kept getting bigger over the centuries. If we treat this work to be a source, we have to accept, Dal Lake is a man-made Lake and boatmen were again part of the endeavour. Still around Dal there are spots under water where you can see submerged temples, remnants of an older city, a place probably an experienced boatman of Dal can still take you to.

Many historical works point to the role played by Hanjis in shaping the ecology of the water-bodies, giving them the recognizable face we see today. In Srivara’s Zaina Rajatarangini, we find mention of “Dhivara“, the sanskrit term for fishermen used in Kathāsaritsāgara and Mahābhārata [“dhi” being iron…probably allusion to the iron harpoon used for fishing.] A few century later in Tarikh-i- Sayid Ali (1569) they are mentioned as “Koorjian” (?). The deep big lakes of Kashmir were unsafe for navigation for a very long time. Winds could build deadly waves in the lake. In ancient Kashmir, to make the lakes navigable, to break big waves from forming, islands were built in the lake, often these islands would also mark a temple. Sona Lank and Rop Lank of Dal Lake were for navigation of Dal. Most fascinating is the story of creation of Zaina Lank in Wular Lake, once the most feared lake of Kashmir. To build the Island, boatmen were employed by Zain-ul-abdin and they chose a site where there was a submerged temple, they knew this to be the perfect site. Baharistan-i-Shahi (1614) mentions Zaina got an architect named Duroodgiri from Gujarat to build him a boat shaped like ship with sails. The boat was used to build the Island that made Wular lake accessible to humans. It was boatmen who were hired to do it. This was also the boat that the famous King used for sailing on Kausar Nag listening to ancient works while visiting Naubandhana site. Knowing how deft the boatmen of Kashmir are in the art of storytelling, one can imagine boatmen regaling the King with miraculous tales about Naubandhana during the ride. Any tourist who has visited Kashmir would know this experience. Boatmen are surely the first guides of Kashmir. In this story we also see the appearance of a new technology in Kashmir, the sail boat. The makers of boat were over the centuries going to be an intimate part of this industrious tribe. In “Ain-e-Akbari” (16th-century) we read about the emperor wanting to build a houseboat: a boat modeled on the design of Zamindar house of Bengal, a two storied structure with many beautifully carved windows. For this he had many boats destroyed and then got an architect from Bengal to design his dream boat. It is said that thousands of such boats were made. These are the boats we see floating in lake bodies of Kashmir in Mughal paintings. Abu’l Fazl writes about Akbar’s visit, “this country there were more than 30,000 boats but none fit for the world’s lord, able artificers soon prepared river-palaces (Takht-i-Rawans), and made flower gardens on the surface of water.”

Hanjis were living in the simple doonga boats for centuries, calling it home. Yet, the term “Houseboat”, as we now understand in relation to tourism, can be assigned to this boat built on order of Akbar. We are still centuries away from the story of “Houseboats” as we see them today. In between we read about Aurangzeb’s attempt in around 1655 to build ships to compete with Europeans. Italians were sent to build the ship in waters of Kashmir. Two such ships were made but the experiment failed because the boatmen in Kashmir failed to get the hang of these foreign warships. Kashmiri boatmen in fact were essential part of Mughal Imperial Nawara Fleet or River Boat fleet. They were said to have played an important part in Akbar’s conquest of Bengal. In the last days of Mughal empire we read that Mughal river fleet comprised of mostly Kashmiri boatmen who would use their own language for calling out to each other and for navigating. Perhaps not so surprisingly boatmen also figure in King Lalitaditya’s conquest of Bengal in the 8th century.

Ruler on a boat with attendants
17th century, reign of Jahangir
British Museum
In the background the island of 
Zain-ul-abdin (1422-1474) in Wular

Meanwhile, boats in Kashmir were not for war, boatman was a trade involving life. Abu’l Fazl in his “Ain-e-Akbari” observes that life in Kashmir revolves around boats, they are everywhere. This was true even a few decades back. Food rations arrived in big “bahat” boats, material needed to build houses arrived in still bigger “War” boat. Fuel needed for cooking: “lobur” dung cakes were delivered by “Lobur Haenz” in “Khachu” boats. Utensils, vegetables, mats, milk and other essentials were delivered in a “Dembnav”. Water chestnuts (once a staple of Kashmiris, and an essential for Kashmiri Hindus on certain festive days) were provided by “Gari Haenz”. “Gaade Haenz” would get you the fish. Fishermen would catch fish in “Gadavari” boats, their families living on them under straw-mat canopy, keeping themselves warm using “manan”, a bare clay brazier, no Kangri. People and news travelled on fast moving Shikara, for longer journeys and pilgrimages there were Doongas. For crossing demonic waves of Wular, you could rely on “Tsatawar”, a small roofless small boats and your life would be in the hands of the most courageous and expert Hanjis. This was life in Kashmir animated by the boats and their engines – the boat people ever whizzing across the rivers, canals and lakes, like blood running through the veins, shedding sweat, pumping life.

A family of Hanjis, 1904

One wonders who are these people?

Kashmiri Boatmen. Photograph by Francis Frith
1877

The origin of Haenz the boatmen of Kashmir is shrouded in many tales. The term Haenz (Hanjis is Hindustani) itself is of uncertain origins. It today sounds similar to Manjhi of Hindustani. Certain experts now link Haenz to Sanskrit word “Navaj” for boatman. However, I propose a new theory: closest perhaps is the Sanskrit word “maṅginī”, used for boat and as well used for women. The wit of sanskrit word play in Matsya story thus comes to light. The word comes from “manga” for head of the boat. This word may well be the origin of ancient Kashmiri work “Henze” for women.

Why do we know so little about the people who were so essential to Kashmiri way of life?

Rajatarangini perhaps offers us a clue, or rather how this work approached history. Rajatarangini essentially dealt with the royal life, it was meant to be read by those besieged by the complexities of running a state. Thus, more often than not, only those people and tribes find way into it who in some manner, through their mobilization, at one time or another posed a challenge to the power balance of the state, or were thus essential to running the state machinery. Thus we find mention of tribes like Tantray, Margray, Dhars, Bhats, Kauls, Syeds etc. That not much is mentioned about Nishadas only means at no time did they pose a threat to the ruler, they were outside the scope of power. They had little time in their tough life for politics.

“The boats and boatmen of Kashmir” (1979) by Dr. Shanta Sanyal was first socio-economic study of Hanjis. In it the author makes a not so surprising observation about Hanjis and their approach to politics:

“As has been observed above, Hanjis or the boatmen, are a business community and their economic interests are the upper-most in their minds. The National Conference will also become a target of their criticism and open enmity if its leaders happen to place obstacles in the pursuit of their trade during the peak months of tourist season. The Hanjis expect every political party to behave during these months so that the tourists are not scared away from the valley. This means an economic disaster to the community and any party who helps this unfortunate situation is the nearest and the most Criminal Party in the eyes of Hanjis.”

Hanjis as a tribe is categorized as semi-nomadic, the people worked in various trades based on seasons (like growing vegetables, tourism, fishing etc.) and during other times, they worked as manual labor, often outside the state. The nature of this nomadic life meant education levels were low, they were unprepared for drastic changes sweeping across Kashmir. As some old ways of life changed, some associated professions started disappearing, thus today you will be hard pressed to find Lobur Haenz, cooking is now done by gas, Maer Haez gone with the death of Maer Canal in 70s, “War” and “Bahar” boat gone as trucks now perform the function, Shikaras are now mostly a tourist prop and Sumo taxis ply on roads like “Doongas” of yore. The people of Doongas meanwhile are stranded, relocated to land, minus boat, their economic well being fossilized, tied hastily to the question of aesthetics and environment. A community that has been undergoing massive disruptive changes to their way of life for centuries, is again, unseen, unheard being thrust under the wheel of history. There are some names buried even deeper in history. “Ayer Haenz” used to hunt and live in the forests. “Ayer” was the tribe in Kashmiri Ramayana to which the boatman King of Ganges who helped Rama cross the river. Colonial writers were to associate the tribe of the Ramayana hunter with Bhils, the largest tribal community of Kashmir.

Among the various tribal communities of India, Hanjis stand out in a unique way. Something happened in this community that seldom happens among other marginalized tribal communities of the county. A section of people in this community were able to take control of their economy, the capital and climb up the economic ladder on its own, purely based on grit, fortitude and some luck.

Two Kashmiri Women with their Dog on a houseboat
[late 19th century, probably by Bourne]

How was houseboat born?

 About 200 years ago, when the tickle of European tourists in Kashmir started arriving, some Doongas started transforming into Houseboats. It is widely believed that Houseboats were born simply because these tourists could not purchase land in Kashmir. However, facts tell us other more important story. The tourists could have always taken up houses on rent. What made Houseboats a basic necessity of these early tourists was the need for lodging near various camp sites that they were discovering across Kashmir. Early houseboats were a floating camp for tourists going on long journeys. Natives were already using Doongas for this purpose. For western tourists additional amenities were placed inside the boat along with some changes in the basic design. A room wall was removed to create an additional lounge area at the front, straw matted windows were replaced by wooden panels. Colonial era writer Sir Francis Younghusband, who was the British Resident in 1906 was to claim that a ‘floating house’ was first built in Kashmir by a sport loving Englishman named M.T. Kennard in some year between 1883-1888. The boat was named “Pamila”. This may or may not be the origin of Houseboats in Kashmir as there are multiple stories about them, but this certainly is the beginning of the phenomena in which houseboats came to have fanciful names. Kennard in around 1918 went on to build a marvel: a two storied houseboat named “Victory”, which even in the 1980s used to stand at Raj Bagh. The houseboat design was modified and improved over the years by people name Colonel R. Sartorins, Sir R. Harrey Bart. Hanjis meanwhile in their oral histories remember one visiting Army man named Dunlop with modifying the Darpad Doonga to come up with basic elementary design of a houseboat. Identity and exact date of Dunlop is not known as none of the later writers moved beyond the writings of early western writers, no original research was carried out based on interaction with the Hanjis. Interestingly, in an English painting depicting Lord Canning’s visit to Kashmir in 1860 we can see a Darpad Doonga being used as a houseboat, as a moving floating camp. Fifty years later Younghusband mentions lack of Dak Bungalows in Kashmir. We read about Nedou’s Hotel in Gulmarg, started by a Croatian origin family, existed in Kashmir since 1880s. Then there were some westerners who had set up huts for themselves in the higher reaches of hills. Around the same time some British citizens like Miss O’Connor were running a successful lodging business for western visitors while agencies like Cockburn’s could provide the tourists huts in Gulmarg. Some shops catering to the needs of the tourists started on Houseboats around Bund area of Srinagar 1890s. Among them some famous names like Mahatta Studio started about 1918. This was the golden era of tourism in Kashmir. Among the many western tourists heading to Kashmir, a famous Hindu monk’s boat experience stands out. In 1897-98, Swami Vivekananda wanted to set up an ashram in Srinagar, but the request for land was refused by the British Regent Adelbert Talbot. Like most other visitors, he stayed on houseboats, traveled by boats going to various campsites and religious sites. During one of the pilgrimage ride on a Doonga boat, Vivekananda worshiped four-year-old daughter of his Muslim boatman as goddess Uma. The act was inline with his beliefs about reforming the caste views of his own community. This is one of the few native accounts of boat travel in Kashmir of that era.
Darpad Doonga
George Landseer (1834–78) painted it in 1881 but depicts scene from 1860 when he accompanied
Lord Canning, Governor-General of India from 1856-62, to Kashmir.

Over the next few decades, there were spate of western travelogues and each of them singled out the houseboat experience as something unique. Boatmen became the wheels of tourism and with them moved many other industries that were dying. The great love of Kashmiri Shawls in West was over by the time Germany and France went to war in 1870, exports and sales were down. There was economic upheaval in shawl industry which lead to human upheaval. Ironically, only more wars in Europe helped Shawl industry survive. A surge in tourists was seen in Kashmir during the world wars. Western soldiers post in India, in Summers, for a moment of relief headed to Kashmir. They stayed in houseboats, purchased shawls and handicrafts as souvenirs. Earlier these specimens were sent to the west, now the west came to Kashmir. Kashmiri crafts were introduced afresh to the new world. A more direct case of houseboats leading to the economic growth of other crafts can be seen in case of Khatamband woodwork for ceilings. Lawrence notes, “A great impetus has been given to this industry by the builders of houseboats, and the darker colours of the walnut-wood have been mixed with the lighter shades of the pine.” The carpenters in this era picked up new skills even as old designs and motifs were used to embellish the Houseboat. The actual work of building the houseboat was pure native engineering applied to Deodar wood. Incidentally, Deodar wood was also essential to another great innovation of that era – Railways. The Railway sleepers in India were usually made of this tree wood. Tourism had a ripple effect on other crafts of the state too, for example: the tailors of Kashmir came to be known as some of the best weavers of English dresses. The birth of modern houseboat is one of the few genuine innovations driven by an entrepreneurial zeal. In modern lingo, we can say it was Kashmir’s “Silicon Valley” moment. And like in any true Capitalist system, the State had little to do with it in terms of capital investment or skill development, they were more involved in price regulations. It was people who drove the whole movement. It was driven by family of Hanjis who lived in Doongas towed at the back to Houseboats, people who served the customers, picked up new skills. Their service gave birth to the fabled concept of Kashmiri “mehmaanawazi” – noble service of the guest.

How did Kashmir come to have hundreds of Houseboats? Where was the Capital fund coming from?

The story of houseboats in Kashmir is tied to a figure who one would assume had little to do with boats because of his caste. While Hanjis were learning a spatter of English language from tourists, picking up skills like making pancakes and Jams through corporal punishment at the hand of masters, Pandit Narain Das, a Kashmiri Pandit, was one of the first five Native Kashmiri to learn English (possibly again though use of corporal punishment) in a Christian Missionary School. In around 1885, Narain Das opened a shop for tourists which was destroyed in a fire incident. Narain Das moved his goods to a Doonga and thus started operating his shop from a boat. As business grew, he changed its straw matted walls and roof with wood planks and roofing shingles. The story among the Kashmiri pandit goes that Naraindas was soon approached by European tourists to purchase the boat. Naraindas sold his boat at a profit and soon realized that making and selling boats was a better business. He commissioned great many houseboats, an act for which he caught the moniker “Nav Narain”. P. N Madan, Director of Tourism for the State in early 60s however gives an alternative story to this beginning. According to him there was documented evidence to prove that a Gondola styled Houseboat was in fact commissioned in around 1880 by one General Thatcher. Since Thatcher did not know the local language, in order to pass orders to the builders, he used the English language services of a fourteen year old Pandit Nariandas. Thatcher stayed in the houseboat for the summer and at the end of the tour sold the houseboat to Narain Das for Rs. 200. That is how Narain Das got into the business of boat making. In oral history of boatmen, Narain Das is acknowledged as the man who put in money to get a houseboat constructed, then boats would be handed over to the Doonga Hanjis, in return the Hanjis would pay him a “cess” on services rendered to a tourist. In modern terms he would be called the “venture capitalist” of the industry. Thus in 1906, the number of houseboats in the valley was already in hundreds.Till the year 1948, Narain Das’s family alone had built and managed some 300 houseboats. This golden era of tourism came to an end with the India-Pakistan war of 1947-48. The main benefactors and regular clients of the industry, the British were gone from the sub-continent, new tourists were afraid to travel to a conflict region.

View around Shah Hamadan by William Carpenter Junior, 1854-55

In 1948, only about 5000 tourists stayed in houseboats. In 1950, the total number of tourists was 7000. Hanjis remember the 50s as the terrible decade when houseboats were dismantled by the owners to sell prized deodar wood as a means of sustenance. To relive Kashmir’s economy, it was obvious that tourism had to be revived. In 1948, not many tourists may have arrived, but certain interesting people from artist community arrived to revive the magic of Kashmir on people’s mind. S.H. Raza the world famous painter arrived and stayed on a houseboat in Jhelum near Bund. The houseboat became a hub for budding artists of Kashmir who would watch him paint and out of these artists came the artists who started the Progressive art movement of Kashmir. Early art exhibitions were held on houseboats, so the houseboats became an art studio. Central government commissioned documentaries on Kashmir prominently featuring the boat life. Anthropologists, sociologists, photographers and journalists arrived to document the life of water people. Houseboat owners, dug into their carefully maintained guestbooks going back a century and reached out to old patrons and invited them back. There were ads in international magazines selling the royal dream of a houseboat. “Jash” cultural boat rides were organized in Kashmir. Slowly the tide was turning, the image of Kashmir as the “venice of east” was re-established. Improvements in film photography technology meant Cinema repainted the old monotone descriptive images of earthly paradise in vivid and lush technicolor. Few mortals could ignore the lure. Tourists rediscovered Kashmir. Some Raj era tourists agencies also survived, meanwhile agencies like Razdan, Mercury, Sita etc arrived on scene. As we shall see, while tourism revived, the lot of Hanjis did not change much even as tourists were drawn to Kashmir because of them. For fishermen Hanjis, new varieties of fish were introduced which marginally improved their lot, rest were on their own, working as seasonal manual labor. Till 1979, 87% of Hanjis still lived on boats, only 2% had “pucca” house, 55% lived below the poverty line, only 40% could be called literate with only 2% having finished intermediate standard and still more alarmingly about 60% of Hanjis were under one or another form of debt. We are here talking about a population of two Lakh sixty thousand Hanjis. There were 403 houseboats in the valley at the time and just about 500 Shikara taxis for tourists.

In around 1978, Clarion advertising agency of Calcutta gave the tourism department of Jammu & Kashmir State its symbol – a Shikara on a lake against the background of a mountain. This was the beginning of the second golden era of Kashmiri tourism again driven by boat. By 1981, this number of tourists was to become 6 lakh, while the total houseboats were about 740. Post 1947, number of houseboats in Kashmir reached its zenith in 1985-86 with 825 houseboats. Old houseboats were restored and new ones built in anticipation of even greater numbers. As tourism grew, government policy changed and curtailment was done on number of houseboats. This despite the fact that if Kashmir tourism reaches its full potential, even these number houseboats are not enough as quality tourists do prefer the houseboats. Concerns about the impact of pollution, encroachment of water bodies were being raised, all ignoring the rapid urbanization on land, the blame was squarely put on the boatmen. All these issues came to a stand still along with tourism when the violence of 90s broke out. It was a shock from which boatmen community is still reeling under. Only a trickle of tourists arrived in Kashmir, that too post-1993 when Hanji community on its own stepped out to personally get the tourists. Besides big Indian cities, the went to cities in Europe and far-east countries like Taiwan, Hongkong, Malayasia and Thailand. They worked hard to put the fear of violence out of the visitors, it was tough, but few did come, and all the other tourism related trades benefited from these efforts. It was during these years that the houseboats on Jhelum went into a state where the owners could not afford to repair them. People in Kashmir started to think of these icons of Kashmiri craft and culture as eyesore. Something that needs to be hidden away like a piece of old furniture.

Fall of tourism in Kashmir in the 1990s, also saw the rise of tourism in Kerala which too has a great boat culture. The place celebrates it. Kerala people take pride in their houseboats as they claim their Kettuvallam (rice barge) boats to be many millennia old. Still, such was hold of Kashmir over the minds of tourists that in Kerala, boatmen came up with motorized boats and named them “Shikara” to dazzle the visitors. It is ironic that icon of Kerala tourist is a tree, a coconut tree but boatmen community is thriving, meanwhile icon of Kashmir tourism is a boat, a shikara but boatmen are seen as some sort of foreign intruders out to destroy environment.

View around Shah Hamadan, February, 2014
“beautified” sans houseboats and boat people

Yet, in the 2000s when Kashmir again was to be revived from economic slumber, tourism was the vehicle, boatmen were again asked to row the massive ship. Again, the cycle of 50s-60s was repeated. Shikara again was brandished as the mascot of tourism, magic of cinema invoked, articles were written, advertisements published, old patrons sought back, slowly the tide again changed. One can actually map the fate of tourism in Kashmir with the number of houseboats on water. In the year 2000, there were 850 houseboats in Kashmir, which in 2007 grew to 1000. Number of tourists about 5 lakh, bulk of them domestic. Once tourism showed signs of revival, again new measures were put in place to curtail the number of houseboats in one way or another. It is almost a pattern. Use boatmen to kickstart the engine of tourism, when efforts start paying dividends, try to side-step the Hanjis by invoking environmental concerns. Here one needs to ask who is better posed to take care of water bodies, a community that have lived in them for generations or people who can’t tell a lake from a pond? World over, for success in saving the environment, local native tribes are made a party to the effort, a synergy is developed, a collaborative effort is taken in which the first step is recognizing their right to the resource and environment, an ownership is established. There is no other way as 80% of the world’s biodiversity is in tribal territories. There are environmental movements that seek to decolonize the approach to conservation. However, in Kashmir Hanjis are being denied the claim that they actually have a territory.

In all this, it must be remembered that post 1947, Hanjis as people were directly or indirectly under the control of Tourism department. That must be unique example for a tribal community anywhere in the world. Their fate was all the more tied to tourism. If tomorrow it was deemed that Hanjis are not essential for tourism, or if it is deemed they are detrimental to the environment in which they have lived for centuries and are better equipped to care about, then truly the future of this tribe is bleak. Dispersed all across the valley, dislocated from their centuries old trades, low education levels, with no ability to put an elected representative in the state assembly, they are disenfranchised people living on whims and fancies of seasonal environmentalists, bureaucrats, judiciary and the government. Thus is ignored the simple fact that Dal probably is shrinking because of effluents coming in from modern townships like Hyderpora, urbanization around Nishat, the development happening on land all around the water body, increasing sedimentation around the edges and also increasing aquatic weeds in the Lake, thereby destroying the endemic biodiversity. Why isn’t this obvious reason first dealt with?
Without prioritizing needs of the people directly impacted by drastic change in government policies, without gauging the reason of failure of previous government schemes supposedly for the benefit of Hanjis and environments, without factoring in the rampant bureaucratic corruption and power lobbies at work, putting boat people on land is like putting a fish out of water (in the name of fish and water) and expecting it to learn to walk.

Hakh/Vegetable seller.
Postcard from circa 1930s

We need to acknowledge that we are talking about the lives of an almost invisible marginalized aboriginal tribe. “Haenz” the word is as old as the Kashmiri language. In sayings of Lal Ded (14th century) we find reference to Haenz lady of Anchar lake, selling lotus stem, calling out to potential buyers. Lal Ded hears her calls and has a moment of epiphany as she engages in a dialogue with the lady. Lad Ded, the grandmother of Kashmiri language and culture, manages to find divine message in business call of a Haenz woman. Lal Ded heard the voice of people whose “coarse” language has been derided by civilized society for centuries. Lal Ded’s ears were open to her calls, her eyes registered their presence. Only then could she sing:

Aanchaari Hanzeni hund gom kanan
Nadur chu te hyayu maa
Ti booz trukyav tim rude wanan,
tsainnun chu te tsinev maa

Call of Haenz lady of Anchaar fell in my ears
“This Nadru, who would buy?”
Hear this the wise exclaimed:
“Dwell deeper, would you dwell a bit deeper?”

It was only post 1947 that someone heard this call. Dinanath Nadim, the progressive poet in 1950s wrote a song on this exact Vakh of Lal Ded using the refrain of Haenz women’s “hyayu maa”. Yet, the real call remains unheard, the tribe still struggles against a tide.

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How the “camp life” was brought to screen in Shikara

Guest post by Nitin Dhar on how the “camp life” was brought to screen in Shikara (2020). How the sets were not just movie sets but more than that. 

I was born in 1993, three years after my family like all other Kashmiri Pandit (Hindu) families were forced out of our homeland, Kashmir by the radical Islamist terror outfits and separatist groups for their aim of ‘Aazaad Kashmir’ to cut Kashmir off India and make it an Islamic state. Selective targeting of renowned Hindus in Kashmir began from mid 1989, followed by gang rapes of Hindu women, abductions, loots, burning of our houses and desecration of temples. It was a massacre and an ethnic cleansing on religious basis on the soil of independent democratic India.


My family lived in the refugee camps in tents where my parents got married. Like Shiv and Shanti in ‘Shikara’, the only thing they had was love and hope through all these years of exile. I was born in Jammu and lived in refugee camp called Purkhoo Camp till the age of 14. The only thing that all parents in the camp focussed on was educating their children and not letting their religious persecution sow seeds of hate or revenge. It truly was our resilience and belief in education, love and peace that made us stand on our own feet. We did not pick up stones or guns. We chose pens, peace and hope. And here we are prospering, even in exile.

Almost three decades after the the Kashmiri Pandits’ ethnic cleansing, I got the opportunity to work on ‘Shikara’. It was an extraordinary learning for me, like thousands of those young Kashmiri Pandits who participated in the film and portrayed themselves in it, to witness the tragedies our families went through before our birth.

Ever since I started pursuing photography and filmmaking as my career, I used to think many times that I would definitely have photographed our life in the camps had I been a photographer then, to record images of our tragedy for the world to know.

My grandfather passed away in 1997 due to PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). During the early years of us living in the Purkhoo Refugee Camp in the isolated outskirts of Jammu, he would wear his pheran (long woolen coat) in the scorching heat and run away from the quarter thinking he going back to Kashmir. In less than a kilometre he would faint and fall on the road. People who recognised him would bring him home on their shoulders. He would then take a while to recover. This repeated several times. I will never forget him bringing pieces of bricks and wood to build a small house model and tell me that’s how we would make our house again, a house that we could call home in Kashmir. He was not alone, there were thousands of old men and women who went through PTSD and succumbed to it. Such PTSD is also visible in obsession about news on Kashmir and watching DD Kashir no matter where we live in exile. Besides that, hundreds died because of snake bites, scorpion bites, sun strokes, brain tumour, cardiac arrests etc. For me, every death in exile is martyrdom. It was not just the Kalashnikovs in the hands of Islamic Jehadists in Kashmir that made the Jhelum weep of the Hindu blood, but also the deaths in exile due to the direct consequences of the forced displacement, lest we forget.

On the sets of Shikara, I met many such fellow Kashmiri Pandit refugees who suffer from PTSD. Who wept looking at the recreated camps and who’s chins shivered during scenes that haunt them in their dreams even today.

People who lived in the extreme cold climate of Kashmir, had to suddenly suffer temperature above 48°C, face scarcity of drinking water, electricity and no sanitation or health care. It takes unimaginable courage to look forward and build prosperous lives despite being brutalised and persecuted by one’s own neighbours, and being failed by one’s own state and fellow citizens.
Nevertheless, we stand united in our belief in unity, education, justice and non-violence, come what may.

The refugee masses in ‘Shikara’ are not actors. They are real Kashmiri Pandit refugees who still live in Jagti Refugee Camp in the outskirts of Jammu. This film is the first of its kind.


When the tent camps were being recreated, I remember, Vinod Sir asking me to walk with him during our multiple recces to make sure of authenticity. He even asked me if I had things that the govt. might have provided when my family was in tents, and coincidentally I remembered that we still had an Usha table fan and a couple of blankets that were provided by NGOs and govt. I got them the next day and we put them in Shiv and Shanti’s tent. Another short incident that I will never forget is when we got the refugees from Jagti Camp to the tent camp set, I overhead a little girl sitting in the lap of her mother inside one of the tents. As her mother was emotional and nostalgic, the little girl asked her, “Mumma, aap itne saare log itne chote se tent mein kaise rehte the”? There was silence. I bit my lower lip and walked away to hide tears swelling in my eyes as the mother gave her child a teary smile and a big hug. There are many such examples and stories from the sets of Shikara of how the realism of the sets reflected in the moist eyes and wistful smiles.

Sonal ma’am [Sonal Sawant], who was our production designer made everything look so real. I was myself always surprised as to how she would make the texture of the mud, aging of the tents and the tiles in the narrow lanes of pucca quarters resembles the ones I had in my memory.
Ranga Sir [Rangarajan Rambadran], who was our cinematographer and my HOD did a magician’s job with his imagery, giving us first set of pictures that represent our painful past with so much authenticity.

I can never forget my chats with Rahul Pandita about our exodus and the great event of this film finally being shot. He and his extraordinary book Our Moon Has Blood Clots, have been the source of inspiration for this film and for me in many many ways. He’s our hero. Our real life Shiv.
Here are some more pictures that I present from the sets of Shikara. Hope these images will reach hearts and pull out some kindness. It’s never too late for solidarity and support.

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You can catch the full set of pics and stories at instagram of Nitin Dhar [@wordslivelonger] where the whole series is available there.

Artist in Exile – Invoking the grief within, with shaky hands

Guest Post by Jheelaf Parimu, daughter of Painter Late Bansi Parimu. This piece was triggered by the film Shikara (2020).




As we complete 30 years in exile, I reflect on my recurring journey of disconnect. I go back to more than three decades to revisit the routes I navigated, that seemed disparate from my co-travellers. My life in Kashmir is like a dream playing repeatedly on a spool where I recall the image of my late father as someone secular to the core. That we co-existed peacefully with a Muslim majority is a fact, that there were instances of subtle undercurrent of distrust towards Pandits is a reality too. Precisely in that milieu my father like many others followed humanism and compassion, that became my ideology in my growing years by default and consequently by design. My DNA defies what most like to call ‘logic’.

My parents in Ganderbal, Kashmir, 1971.
Takhleeq (creation) our modest cottage, was an artistic marvel designed and built brick by brick by my father in 1968 – it was his sanctum sanctorum. Years later he purchased his sister’s house, adjacent to Takhleeq, and named it Tassavur (imagination). Both my parents were artists, wrote and spoke Urdu fluently, were multifaceted and self-made. They rubbed shoulders with many a talent, from Begum Akhtar to M.F. Hussain. Music and Art were their religion, money was scarce, dreams were simple, passion was abundant. Life was merciful.
There may have been a disconnect between my reality and the reality that most Kashmiris lived or projected. The disjoint being purely a consequence of being raised in an unconventional and liberal yet somewhat sheltered set up. My experiences were different, my mindset was different, my life was different – by no means perfect or superior. I was privileged.
My father and my younger sister, Takhleeq in backdrop and Tassavur seen partly, Srinagar 1987.
My reality changed the night of 19th January 1990 when I first heard the announcements from the mosques, the decibel moved higher with each elevated slogan, the footsteps grew louder on the streets. Like many of us, I too hoped it was transitory and would soon be under control. 
A Muslim woman, who was a stranger to us, kept calling on our landline that night, reassuring my mother that everything would be fine, she even knew my father was away. Her husband had been summoned to join the protest too, she confessed. Perhaps that was the faith and camaraderie we were habituated to; the unpreparedness for the events that would unfold was therefore inevitable.

My mother decided to pack us off for few days, opting to stay back till our father returned. Clearly, our family was left off the Governor’s fictional guest list, the unaffordable flight tickets served as curfew pass; the journey was uneventful. My sister was sent to Jammu, I landed in Delhi, both oblivious to what lay in store.

Ignorance was not going to be bliss this time round.
My mother [Jaya Parimu] in center, with her sister, brothers and the legendary Begum Akhtar.
Srinagar in early 70’s
Come July 1990, my father, who up until then was refusing to leave Kashmir, arrived in Jammu. Still in denial, still hoping things would settle down in few months. The whole family gathered there, trying to figure out what to do with our lives, with each passing day the reality started sinking in; we were not going back home. My Maasi (mother’s sister), who had migrated too, owned a house in Jammu and readily accommodated us. We struggled to adapt to the new environs.

By now my father was restless. Days were dark, nights were long with no sign of dawn.

My short stay in Jammu had exposed me to a myriad of challenges my community was facing due to our sudden exodus – the initial hostility and suspicion from locals, the minuteless meetings in Geeta Bhawan, multiple members of a family holed up in one room tenements, the serpentine relief queues, sunstrokes, scorpio and snake bites, termites vining up the walls, transit camps, waitlisted appointments with renowned Neurologist Dr. Sushil Razdan, premature deaths and obituaries in Daily Excelsior, encountering hordes of Pandits in mini buses with moist towels on their heads, trying to beat the heat.

And my beautiful grandmother transitioning from a graceful sari to a frowned upon paper thin cotton maxi, her exemplary ‘survivor spirit’ intact. The list can never be exhaustive, the pain can never be articulated – we certainly had not chosen this. Yet, I must admit, I was far more privileged.

My father, in those briefest 12 months of exile, did everything in his power to darn the shreds. He even secured my admission in the prestigious IP College in Delhi University under migrant quota, mother had preferred I study in Jammu. My parents had limited resources but had sensibly invested in a small house on the outskirts of Delhi in Ghaziabad, barring that we had nothing left. A non-Kashmiri friend suggested they name it Swarika – an abode of art and music- my parents were not destined to rebuild nests.

My mother, a Professor in the Camp College continued living in Jammu with my sister who was enrolled in Presentation Convent. I moved with my father to Ghaziabad, we had to share the house with our sympathetic tenant who did not wish to render us homeless all over again. Swarika remained a dream.

My father was even contributing to the formation of ‘Panun Kashmir’ in its very early days. I am not sure what he was thinking, perhaps he would have steered it in a different direction had he lived longer. He was possibly going through his own manthan(churning) at that point. In the same breath he was not losing sight of reality and would often sigh “the common Kashmiri is now trapped between the security forces and the militants, where will he go?”. He was thinking a lot, about innumerable issues, while thoughts and intents of the heart were getting usurped by failing survival instincts.

I was frivolously revelling in my newly found freedom in Delhi, my father was withering away in melancholy, the shedding leaves of autumn were renouncing the ensuing seasons. Back in Kashmir I had known him as a fighter who had triumphed bigger battles single-handedly, a rebel, extremely strong willed and self-respecting, a non-conformist who did not believe in God but certainly in good deeds. Fearing that people’s respect and adulation for him would instinctively raise expectations of me, I would at times want to go into hiding. His imprint was so overpowering.

And here I was living with him in exile now, helplessly watching him shrivel and grieve, buried in sorrow, slowly becoming a nonentity. What ailed him?

One sultry evening in Ghaziabad, in his sparsely furnished bedroom cum studio, I saw him seated on his swivel chair facing the easel, gazing at an unfinished painting, his back towards me. I stepped closer to read his pain and then I heard the sobs. That was the first and the last time I saw my father break down. Kashmir was his salvation; clearly, he was choosing it over his young wife and loving daughters.

My mother nonetheless was accommodating, she suggested he return to Kashmir given his constant pining and yearning. He dismissed the suggestion “bu tarre’huh, magar su maahol keti ruud” (I would return but that ambience does not exist anymore), he was anything but bitter. A year of separation appeared like a lifetime to him. On 29th July 1991 he was gone, his galloping gangrene paled before his bleeding heart that perpetually lamented for home.

For once I wanted to live in my father’s shadow, but the mighty Chinar had fallen. I knew, life would never be the same.

The void became deeper, he could have lived but not to witness what ‘his Kashmir’ was turning into. Varied shades of ‘betrayal’ killed him – betrayed by the Indian state, by the institutional silence, by all those he considered his own, those who swore by him, revered him, trusted him, those Coffee House cronies, those aspirants he helped achieve political success without seeking recognition, those he mentored, groomed and supported silently and unconditionally, those who hailed him for his secular credentials. He was heartbroken. A bullet could not have done worse.

My mother turned out to be more resilient and resolute, after my father’s demise she kept returning to Kashmir; even courageously witnessed Takhleeq and Tassavur being taken down, to lay foundation for new homes for the new owners with new hopes. She had made a pact with destiny, ‘maahol’ notwithstanding. She made no claims, she was not going to wait for an invitation nor seek permission. And to her credit I got a little closure by visiting Kashmir, after 20 long years. Not many were as fortunate and are waiting till date.

As social media started gaining popularity, once again I became privy to innumerable firsthand accounts of Kashmiri Pandits and many facets of our collective tragedy. Consumed by my own survival and misfortunes, I had done nothing for my community, especially the underprivileged, the disconnect became evident. The suffering can never be compared, the humiliation can never be measured, the tragedy can never be underplayed.

Fast forward 2020, in my delusional optimism I still seek answers to countless questions, my father long gone, I can neither match his tenacity nor his foresight. However, as much as majority might want to justify political/religious aspirations, facts glare back – a innocuous ethnic minority persecuted, a community with no resolve to kill or terrorise, a minority that should have been protected not displaced, we were neither consulted nor given a choice – the gun alienated, the silence killed.

Those who refused to perform in the ‘Danse Macabre’ orchestrated by the devils, were not spared either; the syncretic social fabric was ripped apart, the mutual respect slaughtered, a whole generation raised on fabrications denying them the opportunity to seek truth; baseless insinuations that the victimized symbolized persecutors. Unquestionably human rights violations in Kashmir must not be brushed under the carpet, nor should the chronicles of betrayal be denied. The denial continues to betray.

While I am mustering courage, having watched the trailer and ‘behind the scenes’ of ‘Shikara’ and reading the mixed reviews from India, I am contemplating if it is creating a further rift between the already estranged communities. Truth be told, we need the state actors to play their role in place of movie directors, more so in backdrop of polarisation in the country. Needless to admit it has been my fervent desire, a film be made on our exodus. As Rahul Pandita rightly pointed, too much has been kept pent up for 30 years.

Insurmountable walls have been erected in place of steady bridges over these decades. Abyss has quadrupled the monsters.

The international release date of ‘Shikara’ awaits announcement, I may not even get to see it on the big screen, though I am visualizing myself in a cinema hall, both nervous and eager. I start vacillating between reality, utopia, dreams, slumber, wakefulness, wondering if there would ever be any ‘truth and reconciliation’ in my lifetime; will justice be delivered to Pandits, in an ideal world the first step would be acknowledgement.

I find myself transposed to a migrant camp where I discover the two communities, facing each other across a long wooden table. The table is laid, not for the ‘Last Supper’ but ‘Truth or Dare’. An intense game begins, few take turns to perform a dare, others put forth questions, candid responses are bartered. At the far end of the table I spot Haji Saab, seated right opposite him, my father in his swivel chair.

The game concludes, there are no winners.

My father speaks up ‘hum aayenge watan apne, magar su maahol keti ruud’. Dad was cremated in Delhi, I have no recollection of locale, I did not register anything, Raakh (ashes) could only travel to Chandrabhaga. Jhelum had changed its course.

Each one of us has our own ‘Shikara’ immured deep inside. It merits a vent.
My father in Dubai, 1978.
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Abdul Ahad Azad’s Shikwa-e-Kashmir by Rahul Wanchoo

A SearchKashmir production.
Second in the series on Kashmiri poetry

Rahul Wanchoo brings alive an old forgotten work of Abdul Ahad Azad (1903–1948). Azad’s work titled “Shikwa-e-Kashmir” had imagined Kashmir as a figure narrating its own tumultuous history, all that it witnessed in all the centuries, concluding that world is always in constant motion, always has been, always will be, sometimes for good, sometimes for bad, that man has to learn from history, from mistakes and hope for a better future. The video puts the poem in context of present history of Kashmir, and reimagines it as a lament by a Kashmiri Pandit. In the end, optimism of Azad (of 1940s) is contrasted by pessimism that surrounds us in present times.

I asked Rahul, we need to shoot this in an abandoned Kashmiri Pandit house. I want to see you sing it in those ruins. Finding the house proved to be a challenge, not that there are not many such houses in Kashmir. Fear. There is fear. The people visiting are afraid. The “guardians” and in some cases, the pandits still in Kashmir, are afraid what camera might be used for and how it would impact them. Something so simple became tricky. In the end, Rahul mentioned his mother’s birth house is still there in Kashmir. I asked him, “What about your own house?” He replied, “It is a rubble.” So, the song was shot in Rahul’s matamaal, or what remains of it. Once the song was done, I asked him to give me some Sahir Ludhianvi.

Video Link

Audio steam and Download available here:

Saavn: Link



Lyrics:

Zamaan Kaetyah Karaan che Gardish 
World, how it spins

Na chus araam na chus karaar
knows no relief, finds no peace

Zamaan Kaetyah Karaan che Gardish 
World, how it spins

Na chus araam na chus karaar
knows no relief, finds no peace

Kaman Baharan Karaan Dadvun
Many a Gardens, it burns down

Kaman Baharan Karaan Dadvun
Many a Gardens, it burns down

Kaman Dadvanan Bahaara 
Many a burnt ones, it returns to Spring

Zamaan Kaetyah Karaan che Gardish 
World, how it spins

Na chus araam na chus karaar
knows no relief, finds no peace

Kwcchee be rechhnaev-thas
cradled in Lap

Kwcchee be rechhnaev-thas
cradled in Lap

Kwcchee be rechhnaev-thas
cradled in Lap

Kwcchee be rechhnaev-thas
cradled in Lap

Timai ttaa’tthy karum yimoov sanz gulshanu’ky paa’tthy
dear ones, those bedecked like a garden fair

na rood-y tim gul na rood-y bulbul
neither the garden, nor its birds, now remain

dilas me gai Khaar Khara
My heart it turned dust and ashes

Zamaan Kaetyah Karaan che Gardish 
World, how it spins

Na chus araam na chus karaar
knows no relief, finds no peace

Yimav achaev wuch me
With these eyes I have seen

Yimav achaev wuch me
With these eyes I have seen

Yimav achaev wuch me
With these eyes I have seen

Yimav achaev wuch me
With these eyes I have seen

Raaz Laltaaditas hiwi gul falaan wariyah
many a blooming flowers like King Lalitaditya

timan achan tal no’ treesh naagan
Before my eyes, those springs have dried

gatshaan baagan chhu loorpara
my Gardens, they stand pillaged

Zamaan Kaetyah Karaan che Gardish 
World, how it spins

Na chus araam na chus karaar
knows no relief, finds no peace

Zamaan Kaetyah Karaan che Gardish 
World, how it spins

Na chus araam na chus karaar
knows no relief, finds no peace

Zamaan wuch wuch hi banaan chu insaan
Watching the world, people learn

wuchum ti wariyah hetchum ti wariyah
I have seen a lot, learnt a lot

Zamaan wuch wuch hi banaan chu insaan
Watching the world, people learn

wuchum ti wariyah hetchum ti wariyah
I have seen a lot, learnt a lot

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Prem Nath Bazaz on Ruin and “Land Reform”, 1954

“But what of those who had purchased the land since 1934 when as a result of the recommendations of the Grievances Enquiry Commission and for the first time under Dogra rule, the land was allowed to be sold in the Valley. A and B are two brothers. In 1935 A purchased 1000 kanals of land for 30,000 rupees and B purchased building for commercial purpose for an equal amount. According to socialistic principles both the brothers have been having unearned incomes for all these past years. Today the Nationalist Government has deprived A of his land but B is still in possession of his property. What kind of justice is this? And whether the landlord had inherited the land from his forefathers or purchased it in his lifetime if the land is the only source of income to him what sort of justice is it again that he is expropriated without compensation when the State has made no alternate arrangements for his employment or livelihood. By being a landlord he does not cease to be a member of the community.”

From: “The History of Struggle for Freedom in Kashmir: Cultural and Political, from the Earliest Times to the Present Day”, Prem Nath Bazaz, 1954

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previously:
Some Supreme Court Cases, non Article 35(a) and the Propaganda

Prem Nath Bazaz on Muslim Communalism, 1967


In the aftermath of Parmeshwari Handoo case of 1967, Prem Nath Bazaz went on to write an essay titled “Kashmiri pandit agitation and its Aftermath”. In it he exlained what lead to communal flare-up in the valley. He blamed Jan Sangh affliated Pandits for fanning the issue and generally suggested that KPs should try and play a contructive role in Kashmir, be more liberal so that Kashmiri Muslims may mirror it and try and be more liberal. The piece is often selectively quoted as proof of KP fanatism, however, in the same piece Bazaz tells us the root of the issue, how Muslim communalism was working in the valley and how Pakistan was fanning it.

“In 1947 at the time of partition which was accompanied
by inhuman deeds on a large scale in North and East India
the communal harmony was put to a heavy strain but the
Valley people rose to the occasion and successfully withstood
the wave of frenzy from outside ; the culture of the Valley
and its old traditions were heroically preserved. Other
occasions arose during the last twenty years when the people
had to pass through more severe ordeals but they did not
flinch or waver in maintaining their balance.

 That after 33 years of continued harmony the fires of
fanaticism were alighted afresh last August by Pandit
demagogues no impartial observer can deny. But while making
an objective appraisal of the unfortunate episode it would be
fair to point out that Muslims are not free from blame in
bringing about this situation.

 There can be no manner of doubt that a majority of
Muslims is obsessed with the desire that Kashmir should
accede to Pakistan. If that aim is achieved it is obvious Pandits
will have to leave their hearth and home and become refugees
in India. If there was any doubt about it the Azad Kashmir
Radio and, inspired by it, a by-no-means mute section of
Muslims has been constantly warning Pandits that the Valley
is bound to join Pakistan so they should take time by forelock
and be ready to depart. What alternative do these threatenings leave to Pandits but to determinedly oppose the demand and
tenaciously fight back with all resources available to them. It
becomes the foremost duty of even the liberal minded Pandit
democrat to defeat the Muslim purpose ; for self-effacement
is no part of the philosophy of liberalism or democracy.

Muslim politicians shall have to propose a solution which should be acceptable to the non-Muslims. It is well to remember that the Indian subcontinent was partitioned because the minority wanted it so. Had the issue been left to the vote of the majority (right of self-determination) the unity of the subcontinent would have been maintained. As long as the Muslims insist upon the right of secession Pandits will be morally right and politically justified in opposing the demand. This may appear unreasonable to the Muslim politicians but they will ignore it at their own cost.”

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P.S. In 1968, in the aftermath of 67 riots, my grandfather was convinced by his brothers to purchase a piece of land in Jammu. In 1990 after reaching Jammu, we found some of the land encroached (we let them be), and some part of the land missing, soil dug out and sold. In 1996, we managed to build four rooms over the remaining plot after spending a year, breaking savings and saving money. A few years later around 1998, the ancestral Kashmir house was sold to build four more rooms. Pandits, even Bazazs of the world, knew what was in store for Pandit community. Death or exile. 67 was the last time they put up a fight on the physical ground, in the streets. It also sealed their fate, Tahreek knew Pandits had to be removed from the equation.

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Previously: Pandit Prem Nath Bazaz on Article 370

Matchbox Dwellers

I remember a summer spent going around houses asking for Eedi. Asking random strangers for money. Even then I understood there was no difference between post eid money and post Shivratri money. Back then I had a friend, all I remember is that his name started with Q. That Eid morning, he asked me to recite Kalma…I did…and it was done. I could tag along with him asking for money. We made lot of money and spent is all on ice cream. He would call me when ever a Bakra was getting zibah. The place was always crowded, you couldn’t see anything. Only drains in the entire neighbourhood used to turn red. He was a strange fellow. If he saw human blood on ground he would put soil and bury it. For a whole month he wouldn’t talk without spitting And he would piss while sitting. The kid was a Kashmiri like me. But, this was all in Jammu. Kashmir didn’t have this story anymore. Qadir, that was his name. 

There was another much elder kid, an adult…had a nice big zabiba mark on his head from all the 5 time prayers he must have read in 23 years. The man could swing the ball like Imran Khan. He would play sometimes and people would watch just to be awed with speed. A man in pathan suit, a short run up, and the plastic ball bends in air like a flying snale. Sometimes, he would bring news of Kashmir. One time he told me ditties they were singing in Kashmir for pandits. There was one funny song in which he would ask a pandit to keep paache (feet) clean…for he was coming to have them. Even then I knew it was a sort of warning. I still don’t understand why they wanted to eat our feet. Then there was Nafi, he was best buddies was a guy whose father we liked to imagine was in RAW, because he was a Kaw. However, Kaw was more of a Jammu boy, his mother was a Dogra, we could tell, he was dark. He was the kid with the biggest comic collect, the costliest bat, a VCR, a color TV, he had the best of everthing. And Nafi from Kashmir, kid with crew cut and Uzbek looks was his second in command. We all hung out together. I had come to Jammu from Kashmir with a bat that had no handle, a cousin had broken it. The bat was no good but I continued using it for a few years, playing without handle. Finally father bought me a Kashmir willow. Nafi came to check out the bat. Nafi, Nafi, Nafi, how mad you made me that day. Nafi took the bad and then went door to door in the quaters we lived in. He went to each boy in the neighbourhood, me in tow. Showed the bat, “We have a new bat.” Another door, another kid, “We have a new bat.” Another door, another kid, “I got another bat”. Another door, “I got another bat”. I got worried, irritated, “tommorow he may declare it to be his bat, he has all the witnesses also now.” We must have gone to 20 houses like that. I told him to return the bat, I had to go back him. He was not done yet, there were 20 more doors to knock. He laughed. He knew what he was doing. Something inside me snapped, I made a dash at the bat. He wouldn’t let go. Nafi was not even a batter, he was a bowler, he could hit, but he was a bowler. His grip on the bat tightened. I pushed, he pulled. A second later we bother were down rolling on the ground like two snakes grappling. It was not about bat anymore. It was something more primal. I could see his eyes, just as he could see mine. There was hate that normally comes with age. But, we were locked, neither of us ready to give up. As we rolled on the ground, from the corner of my eyes, with horror I could see, a little girl with a big rock in hand running towards us screaming something that my sense were too shocked to register immediately. “Myani Khodaya!!! Baya!!” (My God! Brother!) It was Nafi’s youngest sister, no more than seven or eight. She was about to bash my head. Nafi turned, he left the bat, got up, took the stone from her hand. Tuned around towards me and dropped it. He then slapped his sister yelling, “Maetchi…ye chu mai boi. Ghas dafa!” (Mad girl! He is my brother. Be lost). I got up, took my bat and left for home.

A few days later I was sitting at the window with a matchbox in hand. I saw Nafi passing, I threw the matchbox at him. “A gift for you.” Nafi picked it up with a smile and opened. A big yellow Tumudi, a wasp flew out singing that stingy song. Nafi jumped, both feet in air, running away, thowing the matchbox away. It was a scene straight out of Charlie Chaplin. Nafia was still shivering when he looked up screaming, “Batta gokha pagal!” (Have you lost you mind Pandit!)

Still laughing, I replied, “I am coming down. We have a new bat, get everyone, let’s play.”

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P.S.

Feb, 2019. The quaters in Jammu where site of big communal flare-up between Kashmiri Muslims quater dwellers and outside locals. 

Asad Mir’s Yeli Janaan Ralem by Rahul Wanchoo

A SearchKashmir production. First in the series.

Rahul Wanchoo sings Asad Mir’s “Yeli Janaan Ralem”. Asad Mir (d. 1930) in mystical verses describes love, act of meeting the beloved, as a feeling similar to being reborn, to be a new human, again.

VIDEO LINK

Audio steam and Download available here:

Saavn: Link




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Lyrics:
yélí jànànû ralêm
adû balêm dílé bèmàrò
dàg jígras tsalêm
adû balêm dílé bèmàrò
yélí jànànû ralêm

käli yélí tòtû kalêm
zäli panjras gatshí lúrû-pàrò
hês hòsh rang mé dalêm
adû balêm dílé bèmàrò
yélí jànànû ralêm

àbè zamzam chhalêm
asad mîras dílé gúmànò
rahmatûki jàmû valêm
adû balêm dílé bèmàrò
yélí jànànû ralêm
adû balêm dílé bèmàrò

Translation:

When I meet my beloved
My ailing heart will come alive again
Bruises carved on it will go
My ailing heart will come alive again
When I meet my beloved

Someday, I will lose my speech
Cage around me will fall apart
I will lose all my senses and sheen
My ailing heart will come alive again
When I meet my beloved

zamzam water will purify me
Asad Mir has this surmise
He will decorate me with the graceful attire
My ailing heart will come alive again
When I meet my beloved
My ailing heart will come alive again

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Some Supreme Court Cases, non Article 35(a) and the Propaganda


Sampat Prakash, a self-claimed Naxal labor unionist, was arrested and taken into preventive custody on 18th March 1968 under the Jammu and Kashmir Preventive Detention Act No. 13, 1964. The held him in captivity for long duration, although in non-violent, humane manner.

But what made the detention legal?

This was possible because Art. 35 (c) was introduced in 1954 providing protection to any law relating to preventive detention in the State against invalidity on the ground of infringement of any of the fundamental rights guaranteed by Part III of the Constitution. It was originally meant for only 5 years. In 1956, ,the Constituent Assembly of the State completed its work by framing a Constitution for the State and it came into force on 26th January 1956. In 1959 the period of 5 years in Art. 35(c) was extended to 10 years and in 1964, it was further extended to 15 years by Orders passed by the President of India under Art. 370(1).

Matter went to Supreme court on 10 October, 1968. Justice Hidayatullah was on the bench.

First things first (contrary to propaganda):

1. The case had nothing to do with 35(a).

2. Sampat Prakash’s defense was that he wanted protection under fundamental right guaranteed by constitution of India. And that since Constituent Assembly stood dissolved, extensions provided to 35(c) was ultra vires, done without authority. In a way defense wanted to ignore 35(a).

His defense was:

Art. 370 of the Constitution could only have been intended to remain effective until the Constitution of the State was framed and the will of the people of Jammu & Kashmir had been expressed and, there after, this article must be held to have become ineffective, so that the modifications made by the President in exercise of the powers under this article, subsequent to the enforcement of the Constitution of the State, would be without any authority of law.

It was Attorney-General appearing on behalf of the Government of India who defended the continuance of article 370. According to Government the “situation that existed when this article was incorporated in the Constitution had not materially altered” thus the article stays. The court agreed “The legislative history of this article cannot, in these circumstances, be of any assistance for holding that this article became ineffective after the Constituent Assembly of the State had framed the Constitution for the State.”

So what was this “situation” and “these circumstances”?

Since the court case was about preventive detention that is in spirit at conflict with fundamental right in constitution of India. Government explained the situation quoting Gopalaswami Ayyangar when he moved in the Constituent Assembly clause 306A of the Bill that  now corresponds ‘with Article 370 of the Constitution. When the Bill was presented Maulana Hasrat Mohani, founder of the Communist Party of India, interrupted Ayyangar and pointedly asked: ‘Why this discrimination please?’. Ayyangar’s at length explained that it was due to special conditions in the state. These special conditions were defined as:

(1) that there had been a war going on within the limits of Jammu & Kashmir State; 

(2) that there was a cease-fire agreed to at the beginning of the year and that cease-fire was still on; 

(3) that the conditions in the State were still unusual and abnormal and had not settled down; 

(4) that part of the State was still in the hands of rebels and enemies; 

(5) that our country was entangled with the United Nations in regard to Jammu & Kashmir and it was not possible to say when we would be free from this entanglement; 

(6) that the Government of India had committed themselves to the people of Kashmir in certain respects which commitments included an undertaking that an opportunity be given to the people of the State to decide for themselves whether they would remain with the Republic or wish to go out of it; and 

(7) that the will of the people expressed through the Instrument of a Constituent Assembly would determine the Constitution of the State as well as the sphere of Union Jurisdiction over the State.

Of these what had (or has) materially altered:

(7) Constitution of the State is already done.

(6) the Government “had committed”, the language is not “has committed”.

(5) UN is no longer holding any special sessions for Kashmir. Even Gandhi in 1948 understood that taking the matter to UN was an open invitation for western politics to be played in Indian subcontinent.

(4) POK. Indian Government almost agreed to converting LOC into international border. What would have been the impact of article 370?

(1), (2) and (3) can be summed up as War and Subversion are still existing in Kashmir. If article 370 or any article enables it. What to do with it?

The ruling shows that article 370 is not a permanent feature, it is dependent on “situation”.

It is kind of funny that this case (in which petitioner, a Naxal wanted to extend an article concerning fundamental right to J&K state ) is now hated by Sangh intellectuals, they say: “The judgment of the Supreme Court in Sampat Prakash case in 1968 upholding the power of the President to extend to J & K the Constitutional amendments was outrageously wrong”. Organiser Magazine. 1992). The reason: because Supreme court held in 1968 that article 370 was needed.

Meanwhile A.G.Noorani, unofficial Indian brain on hire for Kashmiri ultra-nationalism also bemoans the case. According to him: “The court held that Article 370 can still be used to make Orders thereunder despite the fact that the state’s constituent assembly had ceased to exist….[that] Supreme court totally overlooked the fact that on its interpretation, Article 370 can be abused by collusive State and Central governments to reduce Article 370 to a nought.” [Article 370: A Constitutional History of Jammu and Kashmir By A.G. Noorani]. Essentially the state assembly of J&K can modify the nature of State constitution, President of India can approve it and it will be treated as if (non-existent) constituent assembly of the State did it.

Away from all these complicated matters, when Art. 35(a) controversy started, the simplistic Tahreeki propaganda factory in Srinagar celebrated Sampat Prakash (emphasising his Kashmiri Pandit identity) and freely quoted him for hysterical effects saying that he was saved by article 35(a). When the truth is Art. 35(c) was being discussed in the court, and Sampat’s defence was that his fundamental right offered by constitution of India was being violated by the J&K state which had no authority to do it as the constituent assembly was already dissolved. It is funny that the experts in Kashmir celebrated the case as a win. Article 35(c) deprives the residents of the state of certain protective constitutional guarantees available to other citizens of India. It is as discriminatory as article 35 (a). Given the status of detainees in J&K, one would think sensible people would towards abolition too. But forget all this because Sampat Prakash is needed by Tahreek to be the KP Hindu face of its propaganda.

While on the same subject of propaganda, there were some other equally fancy celebratory balloons also released in state. It was claimed that land distribution was also made possible because of Article 370 and Article 35(a). Is that the case?

First thing first. It was Sheik Abdullah who declared the first land distribution act, from Mujahid Manzil, headquarters of NC, he did it even before it was discussed in the state assembly, without consulting the head of the State, Karan Singh. By declaring it from a political platform, he forced the hand of the state and the “Big Estate abolition Act” came into force. Land owners were not paid anything in return. In a few years, the state was reeling under the ill effects of the not too well thought out implementation and massive corruption. [for ref. Dr. Daniel Thorner, University of Pennsylvania, on Kashmir Land Reforms, EPW, 1953. How “new jagirdari” system was carefully created by selectively abolishing old one.]
Rise of “khadpanches” (people, who hang
around the village officials in the hope of gaining influence or wealth)

“The Kashmir Land Reforms Some Personal Impressions” by Daniel Thorner
EPW, 12th September 1953

With that said, getting back to the subject. In 1950, Article 31 of the Indian Constitution ensured that “no person would be deprived of his property save by authority of law, and it would not be acquired save for a public purpose, and most crucially, it provided for the payment of adequate compensation.” It was a fundamental right [It no longer is. It was Janta government [with early BJPites] which struck it down with 44th Amendment of 1978. If an individual can lose land for greater good? Can a group of people also lose it for greater good of another group? Isn’t that what actually happened? Can it happen again, say with another group?].

Article 31 was the main reason why earlier land reform acts in other states like Kerala and Bihar ran into lot of trouble. To circumvent it ninth Schedule of the Constitution was introduced [the current standing of which is also controversial today because essentially due to some ruling it seems Judiciary today had the final say of defining the spirit of the constitution]. It is interesting that while Nehru backed Sheikh’s land reform in Kashmir, in Kerala, first democratically elected communist government was dismissed over the issue. It is however important to remember Kerala went on to implement Land reforms more successfully without having Article 370 to back the move. It is pure propaganda to claim that land reforms would not have been possible without Article 370. It is a malicious thought being sold to Kashmiris, fanning their xenophobia.

Even in case of Jammu & Kashmir, the matter did go to Supreme court in 1959. In Prem Nath Kaul vs State of Jammu and Kashmir, petitioner, claimed his fundamental right had been infringed by “The Big Landed Estates Abolition Act, 1950”. In this case the court held that instrument of accession was the key, in the judgement it said: J&K Big Landed Estates Abolition Act was valid and not ultra vires the powers of Karan Singh conferred on him by Maharaja Hari Singh entrusting the administration to the former. The Constitution Act clearly brings out that Maharaja Hari Singh was absolute monarch and all the legislative, executive and judicial powers vested in him without any fetters. As a result of the passing of the Indian Independence Act, 1947 Maharaja continued to be absolute monarch of the State and in the eye of International Law [not Indian law or Independence act] he could have claimed the status of sovereign Independent State [fate of which was sealed by Pakistani aggression in1948 even after Jinnah promised Maharaja that his say in the matter will be final]. The execution of the Instrument of Accession did not make any inroad on the aforesaid powers which vested in him. [Instrument of Accession does also say that only he can purchase land and lease it out in case GOI needed Land in the state.] The court also held that no fundamental right was violated. [ref: Jammu and Kashmir: Political and constitutional Development, Justice Jaswant Singh, 1996].

Thus we can clearly see, article 370 or article 35 (a) had nothing to do with the first land reform in state. If anything, it was, ironically, instrument of accession, Karan Singh and Sheikh’s populist manipulative move that made it possible.

Since “Kaul” case is the only one that is often remembered in propaganda circles for obvious reason. Pandit The Evil Land Lord. We do have another case of land owner(s) taking the State to court over land reform.

Khalid Fida Ali (and others) in 1974 took the State to Supreme Court over the later land reform act: J&K Agrarian Reforms Act (Act 6 of 1972). The petitioners, all big landowners, claimed that the compensation (this time there was compensation) offered to them was pittance, illusionary. That “orchard land” was kept out of the act deliberately (orchard owners were (are) the new rich class of the state).

In this case too, court [Justice P.K. Goswami] held the act valid and without relying on article 370 or 35(a). It was held valid because of article 31-A of Indian constitution. Art. 31-A, was inserted by the Constitution First Amendment Act, 1951, and provided for acquisition of estates of the nature referred to in various clauses, declaring that such laws shall not be deemed void on the ground that they take away any of the rights given by Article 14 or 19 of the Constitution.

The state on its part claimed: “Act is passed in order to ensure better production avoiding concentration of means of production in the hands of a few and to annihilate the exploitation of the peasantry. With regard to the objection regarding compensation, it is stated that the minimum rate of compensation has been fixed and the same is not illusory.”

See, no mention of article 370, but direct reliance on Indian constitution and again the definition of fundamental right.

The 1972 act was later suspended and replaced by 1976 J&K Agrarian Reforms Act. In this act, orchard were again excepted but it did say:

“No person, who or any member of his family holds an orchard exceeding one hundred kanals shall be eligible to resume land (clause (g) of sub section 2 of section 7). So according to general rule any person who is holding orchard land exceeding one hundred kanals is in entitled to further resumption, but if a person is holding orchard land below one hundred kanals he will be entitled to resume land, but the aggregate land including the orchard land shall not exceed one hundred kanals.”

An interesting feature of the act was that Gumpas of Ladakh were exempted. Since the beginning of Land reforms in State in 1950, Ladakhi Lamas [under Kushok Bakula] fought it tooth and nail as their temple land and centuries of traditional way of income was under direct threat [they knew what had happened in Tibet and what was happening]. Sheikh would not budge. However, now Gumpas were allowed to keep their land. But, along with Gumpas, other religious trust could also keep their land, and in effect their relation with their workers. What it all practically meant was that more and more land (cultivation) was converted to Orchards and more and more religious institutions cropped up in the state.

This in brief is history of land reform in the Jammu and Kashmir State. All this while I went to look into how fundamental rights enshrined in Indian constitution and the various acts in J&K constitution interact with each other, and how propaganda works in Kashmir.

   
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Ref:
Sampat Prakash vs State Of Jammu & Kashmir & Anr on 10 October, 1968
https://indiankanoon.org/doc/1573666/
Sampat Prakash vs State Of Jammu & Kashmir on 6 February, 1969
https://indiankanoon.org/doc/879068/
KH FIDA ALI Vs. STATE OF JAMMU AND KASHMIR, 30 April, 1974