Painted Legs, 1957

Above is a picture of two Kashmiris in Srinagar shot by Brian Brake in 1957. What else can this picture tell us?

I showed this picture to couple of old uncles who grew up in Kashmir and they told me this interesting bit:

The man in the background is a farmer. Obviously, because his legs are painted. The paint used to be called Ka’lim, or coal tar [or Tar’Koul, as in Kashmiri]. It was a popular practice among rice farmers in Kashmir. During sowing season [May-June, just around when Brian visited Kashmir], before getting into water-logged fields, the sower would put coal tar on his legs, as water proofing, to avoid insects and skin irritation. Of course, then for months his legs would be painted black.

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Previously:

Kashmir, Shinya Fujiwara, 1978

Kashmir
Shinya Fujiwara
Translated by Margaret F.Breer
This Beautiful World Vol. 60
Kodansha International Ltd., 1978

Shinya Fujiwara arrives in Srinagar at night through road. Tired he decides to sleep late into the morning and explore the ‘Emerald City’ of Srinagar after lunch. He goes to sleep. He awakes to the sound of someone singing. He checks his watch, it says 5:00 A.M. He looks out the window and sees few stars twinkling in western sky and hears birds chirping. He thinks he has woken up in evening and missed an entire day. He is about to jump out of bed but just then again he hears the strange singing.

“These words were sung by a strong quivering masculine voice and sounded strange to my ears, the ears of a foreigner. But the spiritual intonation might cause one to feel that long ago, when still in the womb, one heard these sounds together with the mother’s heart beat.”

He was hearing Azan for the first time in life.

After a few days in the city Shinya, the Japanese photographer,  noticed a phenomena typical to Srinagar city. The second Azan.

“Hearing this second song after Azan always cheered me. It came from the stray dogs which roam this emerald city. Even thee dogs must have felt the force of the morning prayer for they seemed to be singing the Azan. The first few times I heard this far away howling, i did not know what it was. By the third or fourth day, however, I was sure that the dogs were calling in response to the people. It then seemed rather comical, and as I lay in bed I could hardly contain my laughter. Yet listening to this wordless song day after day, it began to sound just as devout a prayer as the real Azan and I was moved almost to tears. I should probably not even have written about being impressed by the distant howling of stray dogs, yet any tourist in kashmir who fancies the unusual should listen for this wordless Azan. It made me vividly aware that religion in Kashmir governs not only man, but all living creatures right down to the smallest insect.”

This is one of the most subtlety humorous ‘Guide Book’ I have read about Kashmir. Later in the book when he compliments a man for his devotion to religion, he is reprimanded and told, ‘I am not the only one who is religious. Here in Kashmir, everyone gets up early. While the Azan is recited, many people are in the temples saying their prayers. We believe that anyone who stays in bed when he hears Azan will receive only half the profit of Allah’s blessings.’

In addition to some beautiful photographs, this slim little book also offers some useful tips to the travellers  besides listing and describing the ‘must sees’ (although the history of the places is a bit breezy, bit wrong, but yes interesting for tourists ). Every chapter starts a some neat drawings of oriental designs giving the book a feel like you are reading one of those old English travelogues.

The only problem with a book is problem that books with great photographs often suffer: sometime great photographs are slip over two pages. Who likes that?

In between pages, the subtle funnies just keep rolling. When Shinya is tired of all the salesmen chasing him in the streets and on the waters of Dal for buying one or another thing, he decides to employ a trick to avoid unwanted attention. He change his look. He goes about the city unkempt and wearing worn out cloth. Of course, everyone starts ignoring him. He roams the city unattended. But this also upsets him, he misses the nagging calls of the infamous Kashmir salesmen. He even comes to like them. This is a book of simple pleasures that gives a glimpse of simple pleasures that Kashmir could offer travellers.

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Some more photographs from the book:

In his photographs Shinya inadvertently also captured a phenomena that doesn’t exist in Srinagar anymore. A Kashmiri Pandit wedding. Although the book makes no special note of it, in the photograph we can see the the ‘groom’s welcome song’ being sung by women who were muslim neighbours  An old Kashmiri tradition.

Also, it is interesting to note that the composition of a basic Kashmiri Pandit plate for the wedding day hasn’t changed much, there is: Hakh, Razma, Dam Aloo, Tchaman (in the pic probably served by someone from a bucket), Nadur Ya’khin, Palak, Aulav Churm’e and Muj Cha’tin.

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Kashmir in Kochi

I was in Kochi last week to set-up a company with some friends. From Kashmir to Kerala, the irony wasn’t lost on me. My Christian friend from Kerala doesn’t worry much about history or politics but then he need not be, Kerala is not a conflict zone. Fortunately, I can’t enjoy that freedom. Only people of conflict entertain themselves watching Owl of Minerva in flight and occasionally shooing the owl into flight. So I know a bit about caste, class and religion based politics of Kerala. There are some parallels between political history of Kashmir and that of Kerala but with Five major differences: One, Kashmir is a conflict zone. Two, politics never really took root in Kashmir. Three, Communism in Kerala was not something that only inspired populist laws and literature, it changed a lot of things on ground and then in turn the Congress lead forces (under Nehru/Indira) that opposed it (with the backing of Christians) also found a political space leading to a heavily contested state where economic prosperity of castes and religious groups got spread out, leading to a state where a Nair would vote for Communist party while a Christian would vote for Congress. A state where Muslims would align with ‘who-so-ever’ powers who would take care of their interests. Four, Kerala is protected by sea, there was no post-partition effect, no Pakistan next to it. Five, population number of the minorities in the state was substantial enough to encourage this kind of politics…No there are actually six major differences. Number six,…everything is different.

 Inane meanderings of people of conflict. On the ground it is all the same: Student wing of CPI(M) having street fights with RSS people. Young people thinking BJP rule, or a  Jam-ath rule, will be a good experience. Some old things: Muslims, bachelors, ‘girls-in-shorts’ and Film-wallas and their troubles finding rented accommodation in a society run by association of Family-wallas. But somehow there is peace. Normality. Calmness. 

Cherai Beach
Staring at the Arabian sea, I wondered about the sheer number of Kashmiri folktales (compiled by Rev. J. Hinton Knowles in late 1800s) centered around ‘sea voyage’. Why were Kashmiri telling stories of sea? Why was the hero running to the sea? How would they know what sea smells like. Vastness of Himalayas and of the Vastness of sea are poles apart. Kashmir and sea are poles apart.

And yet, I did find Kashmir in Kochi.

At least half of it. In an indifferent map.

And in fantasies. Lavish, beautiful and morbid.

What am I doing here?

But then accidently I found some fellow Kashmiris too. They too traveling for rozi-roti. At a place that long ago provided refugee to another set of Pardesi, foreign immigrants.

At Mattancherry, Jew Town, for lunch my friends walked into a restaurant that turned out to be run by a Kashmiri family. Of all the places. I had my first formal conversation in Kashimiri with a stranger in Kerala! They opened up their kitchen for me and I was able to peek inside. Typical Kashmiri set-up.

Takhtaa Mondhur‘, the wooden log traditionally used for cutting meat, brought all the way from Kashmir. We ordered two pieces of Gostaba, four bowls of Rista with two piece each and rice for four.

Ejaz opened up the place around 25 days back. I noticed that Rista had a more soupy feel to it and a different taste. Ejaz mentioned that here they add extra saffron to everything, apparently the foreign tourists love it, so all the traditional recipes have been modified. Bill was around Rs.1000. Meat is a lot costly in Kerala  while cheaper options are fish (available obviously in plenty), beef (a good decent plate of fry for breakfast can cost as little as Rs. 40. Most of the cattle is imported from T.N) and chicken (available universally).

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Tol’e Hakh

Tol’e Hakh is a particular variety of Hakh that is grown in floating gardens of Dal Lake. It is supposed to be a delicacy. My grandmother compared it to having sheep liver.

One among many things that Pandits living in Jammu bring back with them from trips to Srinagar and distribute among friends and relatives.

From ‘Indian pictures, drawn with pen and pencil’ (1881) by William Urwick (1826-1905)
From ‘Kashmir in Sunlight & Shade: a Description of the Beauties of the Country, the Life, Habits and Humour of its Inhabitants, and an Account of the Gradual but Steady Rebuilding of a Once Down-trodden People’ by Cecil Earle Tyndale-Biscoe (1922)

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Mess in Kangri



Mess or the water chestnut (G’aaer). Once the staple winter food of Kashmir. Part of winter life. One of the best things about winter. And the best way to have them…

Roasted in a Kangri.

I don’t even remember clearly when I last had them. I think I was eight and still in Kashmir.

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Previously:
Panjayeeb G’aaer

kuja boodi, kahan tha, kati osukh

Kashmiri Bakery, 2008

Kuja boodi, kahan tha, kati osukh?
Dere tha, khana boodam, gari osus.
Chi khordi,kya khyot, kya khaya?
Du nano, do rotian, tsochi jorah.



Where were you?
At home.
What did you eat.
Couple of loaves.



One of the tri-lingual ditties developed by Kashmiri pandits in old days to learn Persian. I think I have often heard parts of it from my grandfather, but always employed in humorous situations, he would say, Kuja boodi Tau Tau (Kuja boodi Blah Blah).  


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Found the complete ditty in ‘Kashmiri Pandit Community: A Profile’ by Triloki Nath Dhar.




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