in bits and pieces
The famous Polo Ground in Leh was commissioned in 1885 by Wazir Pandit Radha Krishna Kaul.
 |
| I travelled to walk on it no trace of his name Leh Polo Ground, September 2015 |
 |
| 2011 |
 |
| Golf Caddies, Gulmarg, August 1946 From a private album probably belonging to a British Soldier |
-0-
“On this same afternoon a few boys were posted on the greens to prevent leaves from obscuring golf balls. They swept with a tiny broom made of a few twigs lashed together.
The locker room is shabby and smell. The furniture is crude and ancient. Light bulbs are no more than 40 watts in brightness. The 19th hole is a collection of a few rickety table and rattan chairs. The bar is stocked with only a trifling quality of liquor, and all the bottled are dusty.”
Extract from “Playing Golf in Kashmir: Greens Fee is 81 cents and sheep trim fairways” by John S. Radosta for The New York Times, December 7, 1969
-0-
The boys, it seemed, were in middle of some kind of game. And they were much enjoying it. I had some trouble understanding the game: a guy from a distance flipping coins into a small hole in the ground, a bunch of guys brimming with loud excitement.
My father later told me he has also played this game as a kid in Kashmir. There they called it ‘Posi Gu’it‘ (Coin-Hole). The rules are simple: A player has a number of coins with him which he has to flip from a distance into a small hole in the ground. After trying to flip all the coins in, some of the coins which make it into the hole, can be retained by him, but to claim the rest of the coins that didn’t make it into the hole, he has to accept a challenge from his opponent. The opponent will challenge the first player to hit a particular coin of his liking (based on his sense of difficulty) among these coins lying around the hole. If the player manages to hit the coin, he retains all, or else he loses these coins to the opponent. The game goes on till one of the player runs out of all his coins.
-0-
Hiding it is easy
when you are much younger.
Your hands are supple
and fingers not yet set
by work.
Index, Middle, Pinky and Ring
all look the same.
In some cases even
the sore Thumb!
That’s when
picking the Middle,
the longest finger
is a fine game
to be played by two
or more.
-0-
 |
| A photograph from National Geographic Magazine, Vol 40, 1921 |
It was in the autumn of 1891 , when I returned from Bombay with Mrs Tyndale-Biscoe, that amongst our luggage we brought a football, the first that our school-boys had seen. I remember well the pleasure with which I brought that first football to the school, and the vision that I had of the boys’ eagerness to learn this new game from the West. Well, I arrived at the school, and at a fitting time held up this ball to their view, but alas ! it aroused no such interest or pleasure as I had expected.
-0-
This was a time when football was first introduced by emissaries of Raj to far off places like Afghanistan and Tibet too. What is interesting in the description of the event provided by Biscoe is the powerful consciousness on part of the missionary that he was irreversibly changing the social mores of the natives. And according to him, for the better and forever. He was building Rome. Rome or no Rome, he did add a new chapter to how Pandits assimilated some new things from Missionaries too. But the path, as often is the case of evolution of a society or a community, wasn’t as smooth as one would like to believe now.
While C. E. Tyndale Biscoe would have one believe that after initial reluctance Kashmiris wholeheartedly gave up their Pherans and Pugrees and started playing football, in a photograph published in National Geographic Magazine (top) just around that time, we can see kids playing football with their Pugrees and some even in the beloved pheran. The truth is that the acceptance of strict missionary ways wasn’t accepted by purist Pandits without giving a tough fight. Pandits employed all kind of tactics as a way to block the path of missionaries. It was almost modern warfare that included media blitz, calling for support from mainstream Hindu Nationalist leaders and employing age old Kashmiri technique of giving nasty nicknames to people who were siding with the Missionaries. The National Geographic Magazine tells us that these Pandits were nicknamed Rice Christians, or ‘Batte Christain‘, one who converted to Christianity for rice. Much late, when communism arrived in Kashmir, the term was modified and became ‘Batte Communist‘ or ‘Rice Communist’, for one who claimed to be a communist for discount in Rice rations (this was probably around 1950s of Bakshi Ghulam Mohammad). Also, around this time moniker Kari was coined for people who were suspected to have changed religion to Christianity.
The above photograph from ‘Character Building in Kashmir’ (1920)’ has Biscoe boys dragging a “dead dog”. The story:
Around that time often leading the social attacks on Biscoe school were Brahmins and the supporters of other “more normal” schools including ones that had the backing of Mrs. Annie Besant, of theosophical fame, who opened Hindu School, on the other bank just opposite the CMS school near the third bridge of Srinagar. Often local Newspapers were filled with News snippets targeting the school and its way of functioning. In one such news story, the paper claimed that Mr. Biscoe made Brahmin boys drag dead dogs through the city. Strange as the news may seem, Mr. Biscoe’s response was equally typical. He writes in his book ‘Character Building in Kashmir’ (1920):
Many of the native papers had done us the honour of telling their readers what they thought of us, and gave accounts of what had not, as well as of what had, happened chiefly the former. For many of the Indian papers greedily swallow the lies made red hot in Srinagar. One of the yarns that appeared is worth quoting :
” Mr. Biscoe, principal of the Church mission school in Srinagar, makes his Brahman boys drag dead dogs through the city.”
This ” spicy ” bit of news took our fancy, and we thought it a pity that one of these yarns at least should not be founded upon something tangible, so we decided to help the editor of the paper in this matter.
We possessed an obedient dog, a spaniel, who was in the habit of “dying” for his friends when required to do so. The rest of the cast was quite easy a party of boys, a rope, and a photographer. The obedient spaniel died, and remained dead while we tied a rope to his hind leg, and placed the boys in position on the rope for the photographer to snap.
So henceforward if ever we find a citizen disbelieving Srinagar yarns, especially those spun against the schools, we can produce this photograph to show that one at least of their stories is true. Papers may err, but cameras never (?).
In one of the still more strange case, Pandits even sought help from Vivekananda on the matter when he arrived in Kashmir in around 1897. Although not naming him directly, Biscoe in ‘Kashmir in sunlight &shade’ writes about Pandits asking a certain Sadhu to intervene in their favor. This man he describes as, “A certain yellow-robed and much-travelled Sadhu” who “visited Kashmir with his cheelas.” and “had travelled in Europe and America, and was highly educated.” Based on the description and chronology of the events this man has to be Vivekananda. What followed was that initially this Sadhu favoured the Pandits but later after talking to Biscoe and seeing his school and work, he did a u-turn and advised pandits to send their children to Biscoe.
And yet the Pandit hatred for Biscoe, this man who was challenging their way of life, didn’t subside. They didn’t understand all this strange business of swimming, rowing, mountaineering, cricket, cleaning street and rivers. They expected the school to just to teach their children maths and essential skills that will help them get a government jobs. But they saw that Biscoe was in-effect changing their children into little Europeans. And he was doing it with a certain brashness. If children drowned while rowing in Wular, Biscoe believed that other children would readily filled their place. He believed in football and its power to change a society. But the ripples that his little experiment was causing in the Kashmiri society can be gauged from writings of Biscoe’s son E. D. Tyndale-Biscoe. In his book ‘Fifty years against the stream. The story of a school in Kashmir’ (1930)* he writes that the children in order to avoid football would often puncture the ball and their parents would shoot off angry letter’s to CMS headquaters in London. One of the letter read like this:
“We, the inhabitants – Hindus and Muhamadans of Kashmir – want this, that if Mr. Biscoe is allowed to remain in Kashmir as a Principal of the school, not a single boy will attend it, and the Society will have to close it for good. Therefore, please sir, transfer Mr. Biscoe for his is exceedingly a bad man, illiterate, deceitful, ill-mannered, uncultured, cunning, and a man too fond of cricket.”
And yet Biscoe stayed on, building his little roman empire in Kashmir, little by little, with diligent social work and an unshakable faith in his unconventional methods.
-0-
* Mentioned in ‘Confronting the Body: The Politics of Physicality in Colonial and Post, edited by James H Mills, Satadru Sen.
She walked away from the dark crowded room that was drowning in screams of game induced frenzy. Shivratri was days away and people of the house had already been playing the game for weeks now. In the room on the third floor, young boys were standing in the outer circle as the old men in center rolled shells and prayed for luck. The legend, the old man of the house, much to the amusement of the young and learning, was rolling a big hand of Cowries. It was a win all-lose all situation. The old man filled both his hands with Cowries, without giving the shells a shake, even though his big hand could still easy manage it, with an easy flick action he threw the shells down on the floor. As the shells rolled, tossed and turned on the smooth mud floor, old man bent his head down, he was going to lose, his experience told him that much, rest what he did was all instinct, his eyes locked onto a shell, still rolling- but it was going to be a Slit, he needed a Mount for Quin, old man’s will dropped down on the shell, sitting on his two feet like a giant bird, he put his mouth near the shell that had almost stopped in a Slit and screamed his lungs out. He screamed out the words, his war-cry: Cht’ye Pat’e Tekri Astin’da.
Like a miracle, the shell turned, one more time. A Mount. It was Quin complete. He won. Wild celebrations broke out. Cht’ye Pat’e Tekri Astin’da. Cht’ye Pat’e Tekri Astin’da. Most of the old onlookers had a look of astonishment, the old timers were still astonished by this trick. They would have wanted to discuss if it was fair play. But the young saw it as a fete, a miraculous win. They were screaming with joy.
The young bride walked away from the dark crowded room that was drowning in screams of this game induced frenzy. She heard the young singing a strange song. She had her own song to sing. And old song. She walked to the big window, took in the sight, it was still a new sight, this was going to be her new house and new family, the house was old, its mores still older. She looked down to the street, the sight of her on the window had already started a motion down on the street. Young kids of the neighborhood, poor old urchins, all Muslims were gathering. She smiled. She reached for the inside of the fancy little bag that she was carrying in her one hand. She took out Haar’e from the bag that she had brought with her from her father’s house, a bagful of Haar’e just for this day. She filled her hand with Haar’e and started to throw them down on the street. They say in the old days these shells were the currency, the money. While she showered Haar’e down on the street and onto the lapping crowd of little boys, she sang:
Baz’e Chek’e Haar’e Ma’e
Yus Tul’e
Tsu’e Pa’helwaan
For the Eagles
I sprinkle these Cowries
The one who picks them
the one be a strong man
-0-
How to Play with Haar’e/ Haran Gindun
Objective: Take all the shells of your opponents.
Number of players: No limit.
Start: At the start all players contribute a fixed number of shells (usually four) each to form a pool of playable shells for the round. The unit that each player contributes is known as Tchakh. When the playable shells are finished each player again contributes his share of Tchakh till he or she can no longer offer any and hence is out of the game.
First turn: To decide who will throw first a special throw of shells is arranged. Each player contributes a special, uniquely identifiable shell, say a shell with a broken edge or a hole. This shell is known as Botul. To decide who will go first, players take turns to roll the collected Botuls. You win the right to go first if your Botul stands out. The entire game is about shells standing out. A stand out would typically mean that all the other shells are in Mount state and your shell is in Slit state or vice versa.
In the scenario presented in the above image we can say that the owner of the shell with the hole can go first. his Botul won. The next turn may be decided in the same way or you can choose to have turns clockwise or anti-clockwise.
Each Botul is returned to its respective owner. And the play begins.
Play: Each player takes turns to roll the shells.
There is no particular way to throw the shells, only rule is do not obviously turn the shell for your benefit.
The outcome of the each turn, whether you won or won nothing, is based how the shells turned, whether you turned a certain number of shells to Mount state or Slit state.
 |
In the above scenario the player rolling the shells got one shell in Slit state and rest all in Mount State. This is the best possible scenario. It is known a Quin. The scenario in which one shell is in Mount State and all the rest are in Slit state is also a Quin. The player wins all the shells on the floor. In this case eight shells. Other players pool more shells based on the pre-decided quantity of Tchakh. The turn of the winner continues and the the game continues. If the player had turned one more shell to Slit, he could have only picked two shells.
In the above scenario the player threw a dud, all the shells are in Mount state. This is known a Tsooyt.
The above scenario is also a Tsooyt as all the shells turned Slit.
In case of Tsooyt the player does not get to pick up any shells from the floor and the turn passes onto the next player.
In the above scenario player got three eyes or To’l Tr’y – three slits. The player loses. If it had been four Slits, he could have picked four shells and the turn (Baaz in Kashmiri or Baazi in Hindustani ) would have shifted to the next player.
Another To’l Tr’y scenario. Three Mounts and rest are Slits. One more mount and he could have picked four shells. And so the game goes one until everyone else has lost all his shells and you are sitting on a huge pile of shells.
In this way, a good game of Haar’e is played and enjoyed.
Also, if one finds the rules too tough to follow, or if one is looking for some simple fun with Shells. One can also play with them like this:
 |
| Hit the Shell to claim it. |
-0-
Vinayak Razdan is a Game Developer.
