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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.

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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

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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

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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. 

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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
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Gallery of Kashmiri Pandit Urdu Poets, 17th, 18th & 19th century

window of an abandoned Kashmiri Pandit house.
Gusamnar Mohalla, Ladhoo village, Pampore
Kashmir.
“Hari Om” in Urdu.
Photo: Ashima Kaul. 2018.

Presenting photographs of Kashmiri Pandit poets given in “Bahar-e-gulshan-e-Kashmir,” the two volumes  containing verses by hundreds of Kashmiri Pandit poets, with each contributor introduced with a brief biographical note. The work was compiled in 1931 and 1932, each running about 900 pages and published from Allahabad under the patronage of Sir Tej Bahadur Sapru. The work has been available online for quite sometime, however this is first time all the photographs from the work are being made available together. [Will be adding notes on the poets over the years as I come across more info. ]


[my mother-in-law, Jiji, who helped with the translation. Any additional notes and corrections are welcome.]

Chandra Bhan Brahman presented by Dara Shikoh to Shahjahan. Dara once asked Brahman to recite in the presence of Shah Jahan the following verse: “So greatly is my heart associated with infidelity, that many a time When I took it to Mecca, it returned a Brahman.”

Roopa Bhawani urf Alkeshwari with Madhavjoo Dhar
Pandit Rajkak Dhar “fitra”

 Dewan Amarnath Madan

Dewan Bramnath Madan

 Dewan Manath Madan “Zafri”

Dewan Pandit Radhaynath Koul “Gulshan”

 Dewan Pandit Shivnath Koul Muntazar

 Pandit Amarnath Hajjin Shaida

 Pandit Arzan Nath Mattoo Naushia

 Pandit Avtaar Kishan Tickoo “Avtaar”

Pandit Avtaar Krishan Gurtoo

Pandit Avtaarlal Bakaya

Pandit Bhishambar Nath Sapru Sabir

 Pandit Brij Kishan Kaul

Pandit Brijlal Nehru Watan
[Cousin of Jawahar Lal Nehru]

 Pandit Brijnarayan Chakbast  (1882–1926)

“Zara Zara hai mere Kashmir ka mihman-nawaz
Rah men pathar ke tukrun se mila pani mujhe”

 Pandit Chand Narayan Raina

 Pandit Dayakrishan Topa “Mustar”

 Pandit Dharam Chand Kaul Jalaali

 Pandit Dinanath Chakan “Mast Kashmiri”

 Pandit Dinanath Madan “Muntazar”

 Pandit Durga Prasad Mushraan

 Pandit Girdarilal Trakroo “Mouzu”

 Pandit Harinayan urf Bishambarnath Haaksar

 Pandit Iqbal Krishan Sehar

 Pandit Jankinath Madan “Bejaan”

 Pandit Kailash Narayan Kaul

 Pandit Kailash Prasad Nashi

 Pandit Kanta Prasad Sukhiya Masroor

 Pandit kanwar Gauriprasaad Munshi Hadeem Akbarabadi

 Pandit Kashinath Dhar

 Pandit Kishan Lal Atal

 Pandit Madhav Prasad Kaul Sharga “Dard”

 Pandit Maharaj Kishan Sahijean Nadeem

 Pandit Mahraaj Narayan Dhar

 Pandit Manmohan Kishan Walli

 Pandit Mishanbarnath Mushraan

 Pandit Motilal Katju

 Pandit Nandlal Dhar “Begarz”

 Pandit Naranjannath Sahil “Mustaak”

 Pandit Omkar Narayan Bakshi

Pandit Ram Nath Agha

 Pandit Ratan narayan Dhar “Arsh”

Pandit Roopnarayan Dhar “Masroor”

 Pandit Shuban Narayan Haaksar “Zabar”

 Pandit Shyam Narayan Mushraan

 Pandit Shyamprasad Betaab

 Pandit Sri Kishan Koul “Bias”

 Pandit Subhan Narayan Dhar

 Pandit Swaroop Narayan Raina

 Pandit Tej Nath Tickoo “Naaz”

 Pandit Tribhuvan Nath Sapru “Hijr”

 Pandit Vishwanath Kaul

 Pandti Anand Narayan Mulla

 Pandit Ajodayaprasad Munshi “betaab”

 Pandit Brijmohan Dattatreya “kafi”

 Pandit Dayanandan Gajuur “ishrath”

Pandit Harinath Matoo “asi”

 Pandit Hridaynarayan Bhan

 Pandit Jagjewan Nath Trakroo

 Pandit Jagmohan Nath Hakku “fida”

 Pandit Jwalaprasad Shanglu “Khursheed”

 Pandit Kamtaprasad Kitchloo “kitchloo”

 Pandit Kanahiya Lal Haaksar “Murtzghar”

 Pandit Kanwar Naranjan Nath Nadan “ishq”

 Pandit Kirtakishen Raina Gratoo “aziz”

 Pandit Kishorilal Katju “kishore”

 Pandit Motilal Hakoo “gowhar”

Pandit Parweshwarnath Trakro “Demag”

 Pandit Ramnarayan Tikoo “kharad”

 Pandit Shivnath Chakk “kaif”

 Pandit Shyamnarayan Tikoo “ashiq”

 Pandit Swaropnarayan Bhan “asi”

 Pandit Tribhavannath Bhan “fariyaad”

Pandit Tribhavannath Aga “hazath”

 Pandit Shivnarayan Bhan “hajazz”

 Pandit Shivrajnath Koul Bakaya “ashiq”

And there are two ladies too in the list of poets!

 Shrimati Pran Kishori Kichlu “Pran”

Shrimati Susheela Tickoo urf Brijkishori Susheela
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Note on Words and Songs of Shivratiri

Among Kashmiris the words that are said in praise of Shiva-Parvati mostly involve Shrutis. There is Shiv Sankalp from Yajur Ved. There is Abhinav Gupta’s Shiv Stuti and Shiv Chamar Stuti. 

Abhinav Gupta’s Shiva Chamara Stuti starts with ‘Ati Bheeshan…’. It’s possibly the most famous one among Kashmiri Pandits…rendered in a peculiar sing-song manner. It is this peculiar meter that adds ‘Chamara’ to the name. ‘Chamara’ meter – signifies the movement of a hand fan. ‘Chamara’ comes from the Sanskrit word ‘Charmkara ‘ meaning tail of a yak. Apparently this tail was used as fan. [See images of Sikh Granthis in your mind]. 
Then there is Shivashtakam, Lingashtakam, then something that goes Shivoha-Shivoha-Shivoha (Nirvanasuktam), there is the famous ShivaPanchaShahastraStotra, Shri Rudrashtaka, Shiv Shadakshar Stotram that starts with ‘omkar bindu sayankut’ and I think a few more. Beltai Madal…Bhajan by Krishanajoo Razdan…most popularly rendered by Tibet Bakal.
I, like most Kashmiris, see this festival more as a wedding and it is celebrated as such. For Kashmiris it is the day of the actual wedding of Shiv and Parvati. And as often happens in weddings, ritual have greater impact than words. A perfect “saat” or timing is needed for weddings, and so are calculations done and the day of Shivratri decided (often there are disputes over the timing). Funnily, the word “saat” itself comes from the Arabic word for “hour/time/clock”. 
The ancient rituals performed by Kashmiri Pandits, the actual beauty of this festival, was wedded into a poetic mystical experience by Pandit Krishnajoo Razdan (1850-1926) in his work Shiva Lagna. The rituals he described can he traced in the rituals now followed during the Pooza and these are also partly the Kashmiri marriage rituals. Like the ritual of looking into mirror is same for the couple getting married and for Shiv-Parvati during Shivratri pooza. 
The source of the Shiv Ratri Puja as performed by Kashmiri Pandits now is based on early 20th century documentation by Pandit Keshav Bhat Jyotishi (1873-1946) who is credited for preserving a lot of old Kashmiri works by setting up a Printing Press that made ancient works cheaply and easily available to masses. Only two decades ago, the cassettes of the Shivratri Puja and the Booklets popular among Pandits are in fact produced by progenies of Pandit Keshav Bhat Jyotishi. Today the same are streamed online.
Lot of short-cuts and modification have been introduced in the Pooja since the old era but the procedure essentially remains the same. Some meanings are forgotten, and some are remembered. 
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