Guest post by Sushant Dhar. First published at News18.
Evening
March 1990
Jammu
“The truck pulls over by the roadside of this strange place that I’ve never wanted to go to. Behind me is the setting sun, which shone brightly over the dew in the courtyard of my ancestral house earlier that day.”
The truck pulled over for me as well, a two year old exile curled up in the lap of his grandpa who was sobbing incessantly throughout this journey of separation from his beloved home. Thousands of trucks pulled over for many days on different places along the Jammu-Srinagar National Highway in the year 1990, some stopped at Batote, some at Udhampur, Nagrota, Battal Ballian, Muthi camp, Jhiri camp, some went a bit far to Chandigarh, Himachal Pradesh and some pulled over at Delhi. Imagine you’re at home in the morning and as the sun sets you’re forced to arrive at an unfamiliar place, dotted by tattered canvas tents, away from your family, away from everything that belongs to you, to live a life of deprivation and perpetual exile. Imagine living in a camp for all these years, the first ten years in tents and the following sixteen years in one room dome shaped quarters, bereft of everything that was once yours. That’s where we lived, the children of exile, our parents, grandparents and thousands of other Kashmiri Pandits.
A Long Season of Ashes stands as a voluminous testament to the ever enduring humanizing power of literature, of memory, of written word. The author has relentlessly pursued the idea of displacement, time, disease, loss, longing throughout the book. The terse prologue sets the tone emphasizing the importance of preservation of memory; delineating the role of the exiles to fall back on what they’ve gone through, to remember, to retrace back their journey, to go on retelling their stories of persecution and forced displacement to their progeny. The forty two word blurb of the book depicts our human condition in the wake of insurmountable grief and trauma, ‘Those who yearned to return to their homes in Kashmir are long dead. An entire generation was wiped out in the camps. What’s left now is residue. This residue has now begun to cast a long shadow on our own personal histories.’
The year 1990 saw one of the most dehumanizing chapters in the history of our country when half a million Kashmiri Pandits were driven out of their homes by radical Islamists chanting slogans of ‘Yaha kya chalega, Nizame-mustafa (What do we want here? Rule of Shariah), Zalimo, O Kafiro, Kashmir hamara Chhod Do (O! Merciless, O! Infidels, Leave our Kashmir); hundreds of Kashmiri Pandits were killed by terrorists, declarations issued to the effect that Kashmiri Pandits are kafirs and informers. Many local dailies and newspapers published threats by terrorist organizations threatening Pandits to leave the valley in 36 hours. Several prominent Kashmiri Pandits including Tika Lal Taploo (BJP Leader), Neelkanth Ganjoo (Retired Judge), Lassa Kaul (Director Doordarshan Srinagar) were killed by terrorists in the year 1990. Those who stayed back were massacred in Sangrampora (21 March 1997), Wandhama (25 January 1998) and Nadimarg (23 March 2003).
The author of the book has painted an exhaustive detail of his childhood in Srinagar and the horrors he witnessed at the camps for displaced Kashmiri Pandits. The first seven nights spent by the author and his sister in a buffalo shed in Jammu are the most harrowing of all his experiences in a camp. The lips of his sister are dry and cracked, she’s terribly thirsty and asks for water but there’s no water, she has to wait till morning. What unfolds on the third night is bone chilling. The author goes back and forth in time, taking us to pre 1990’s when he was home, going on with his life, visiting temples with his grandmother, going on for picnics with his friends to Verinag, Pahalgam, Gulmarg, attending his school, learning skiing in Gulmarg, roaming around the lanes of his downtown home with grandfather, then post 1990’s in a camp for displaced in Udhampur, at a crematorium near the Devika Ghat meditating on the nature of death, watching the half-burnt bodies of the exiles, studying in a camp school under the scorching heat, at the banks of the river Chandrabhaga in Akhnoor immersing the ashes of his grandfather, someday in Delhi living in obscure towns, the next year in Varanasi battling the crisis within, on a journey of self discovery, visiting random places, houses of music maestros, then again in the camp school and back to his home at Safakadal in Downtown Srinagar, in his room writing his diary, arranging his bookshelf. In camps, he’s the mute spectator of life’s ugliness, he looks at the people who have been emptied of everything, atrophied; lost in the haze that never left them. In some other chapter, his father takes him to the site of the newly bought plot of land at Ompora, Budgam in the year 1988, in the next chapter he is watching a movie in a theatre in Srinagar, appearing for his matriculation examination in the school and the other day he’s being put onto a truck carrying him away from his home. Like several thousand Kashmiri Pandits of his age, the author witnesses the ordeal his community members are forced to go through.
As a reader and somebody who has seen it all, experienced it, I’m overwhelmed, deeply consumed by the powerful content of the book. It was difficult for me to read through all the pages. The book is personal because it’s the story of all of us, nearly half a million displaced Kashmiri Pandits scattered across India and abroad. Our stories of exile and persecution are intertwined. We all went through the same dark night of the soul. I’ve first hand witnessed the sufferings of thousands of Kashmiri Pandits in camps; a death every day, some died from snakebites, some from sunstrokes, some were taken over by strange ailments. The summer heat made our skin pale yellow. Our parents shriveled in the stifling heat and inadequate spaces. The toilets, which were around 200 metres away from our camp, were made of sticks, pieces of wood, scrap and tin. The doors were made of torn canvas. A dug-out was made to contain the faeces. It all remained there, the faeces, the dirty water and the urine in that little dug out area, all stacked, emanating a foul stench. We slept in snatches during the night, sometimes on the roads because of the frequent power-cuts. Many of us didn’t even have fans or coolers. The nights and the cries of distress were never-ending. Our bodies were drenched in sweat all the time. Hiding all day from the blazing sun was a routine game. Finding a corner untouched by the sun on the camp streets was a daily affair for the elders. The elders with ashen faces looked frazzled and wilted as if they were carrying a permanent burden on their shoulders. Elders were often seen loitering in the camp, expressing their longing through inane soliloquies and monologues. Many ran away from the camps and were never found, many drowned in the Ranbir canal while bathing, some which lost sense of place and time still live in the camps and old age homes in Jammu.
The author’s grandfather always kept his shirts, other clothes ironed every day. He polished his shoes every night in the hope that the Government can anytime take them back to Kashmir and that they should be in a state of readiness. He kept on with this habit for nine years until his death in the year 1999. My grandfather also passed away after two years of exodus at Garhi, Udhampur on the day of Shivratri in the year 1992. In exile, the author saw many lonely deaths and one of the deaths was of his own grandfather who lost his memory post exodus. He confused his wife for his mother, his son for his father, his granddaughter for his wife. An entire generation grew up in the shadows of the horrors inflicted on their ancestors. Many wished to be cremated at the crematoriums in their native villages, some still wish the same even after 34 years of exodus. Last year, my uncle with terminal illness wished the same before being shifted to the ventilator for 54 days. His last wish was that his final remains be immersed in the brook running adjacent to the crematorium in his native village in Trail, Anantnag. We fulfilled his last wish. The author’s grandfather pleads the same, “On his deathbed, Babuji implores us to take him home to Kashmir, but he knows he will not live to see that day. Therefore, he wants us to take his ashes there. And then he dies a lonely death, unable to even dream one last happy dream of homecoming.” A decade later, Babi (author’s grandmother) too dies but near her home in Srinagar at a hospital when she’s on a fourth visit to Kashmir with her family in the year 2012. This visit was important for her because she had promised herself that she’ll visit her home at Safakadal but little did she know that this won’t happen in this lifetime.
The author stresses that every day is a Memorial Day for the Kashmiri Pandit community. I’m reminded of literary scholar Kate McLoughlin’s words about Primo Levi’s book If This is a Man, “It’s hard to believe that the human frame can survive under such circumstances, let alone survive to write something like this.” It takes enormous efforts to put forth everything that has happened to us all these years, to carry this burden all along and be an instrument of catharsis for the entire displaced community. The author does this with most of his earlier publications which includes The Garden of Solitude (novel), A Fistful of Earth and other short stories, A Long Dream of Home (Anthology, co-editor), essays, poems; painstakingly writing about the exiles and their predicament.
All these years, I’ve tried to carve my own meaning of Nikos Kazantzakis’ home poem from his novel The Rock Garden.
O plum tree before my house,
I shall never return,
But you do not forget to blossom
Again in the spring!
Kazantzakis sojourned in Paris, Berlin, Italy, Russia, Spain, Cyprus, Egypt; translating books, writing novels, essays, spending most of his time in his second home at Antibes, France but kept returning back to his war-torn country, to his home at Crete and Aegina, keeping a large clod of soil from Crete on his work desk; asserting his longing for home and his beloved land.
The same happened with the exiles putting up in the camps in Jammu and other places across the country. In one of the chapters, the author shares that a Kashmir Pandit writer Arjan Dev Majboor had kept the water of Vitasta (river in Kashmir) in a bottle at his room in Udhampur and he used to show the bottle to all who came to visit his place. Many Kashmiri Pandit families bought soil from their native places in Kashmir and kept them at their places of worship in their tents, camp quarters. The soil, the water, the old photo albums, photo frames is now their family heirloom, to be preserved for generations, to be passed onto the people who will preserve the memory of their long lost ancestors. The eyes of our parents and grandparents are fixed at the place they once called home, then the eyes shift to the time of their persecution and forced exodus, thereafter to the experience of the horrible camp life which no human being should ever see or go through. We are refugees of Time; trapped in the beautiful and gory past. My mother only dreams about Kashmir. She can’t believe that she lived in those camps where she struggled/scrounged for the most basic necessities. She goes back in time and remembers the everyday ordeal of scraping the drains, cleaning the makeshift toilets used by a dozen families in one part of the block. She falls back to dreams which transport her to the beautiful house in Anantnag. She is at home only in her dreams; that is her only escape from the ugly reality. I’ll never forget the dreary nights of studying in the kitchen we had made adjacent to our one room quarter. It had a hanging roof made of tin sheets, supported by bamboo logs, which used to beat violently because of seasonal winds, many a times the kitchen caved in, tin sheets flung in the air from one block to another. During the rainy season, every year, the rain water would get into our quarters and into the shops of camp inmates and the terrible sight of people searching for their belongings in the drains was disturbing. At the face of this constant humiliation and incomprehensible adversity, the displaced had only one option, to remain steady, to continue dragging themselves all day, to live for a day, for a year, for their children, for their families, for the good days.
As we journey from one book to another, from one city to another; embracing cosmopolitanism, building better lives for ourselves, we must carry our exile within us and not forget the struggle and sufferings of our parents and grandparents, we must not forget about the Kashmiri Pandit families killed by terrorists, families destroyed forever, we must carry the wounds of the entire community beyond time, we must narrate our stories every day, shifting to the oral transmission of history, the written word, making it a permanent ritual within our households to pass on what we endured. Our fulcrum of existence should revolve around what is ours now, memories of our native homes and grandparents, stories of displacement, poems/stories/essays/ literature of exile, it’s our duty to narrate what happened to us.
Babi’s prayer rings in my ears every now and then, ‘May we always be happy in our homes! May our hearts be warm and lit! May our children prosper and flourish, May we never get to leave our beautiful house, our beautiful land….May we live and die happily here in Kashmir.’ Babi’s prayer is the most endearing moment amidst all this great suffering. The entire brunt of exodus was borne by our grandparents who died in horrid camps, other places that they didn’t belong to, away from the land/home that was once theirs since time immemorial.
The author is hopeful that one day we will reclaim what was ours and reaffirms that our part of the story has not ended. He answers his own questions. “Do you think the long season of ashes will end one day? I am within striking distance of everything I’ve ever lost. Somewhere in the book he says that a day will come when someone’s diary entry will read: ‘Today, I am back home, where my parents and grandparents once lived. And it is going to be the longest day ever, with so much to do and so much to remember… But this time it won’t be a dream. When I open my eyes, I will find my home in Kashmir before me.”
A Long Season of Ashes is an essential read, a monumental attempt to make sense of the collective history of the persecuted Kashmiri Pandit community. It’s a moving portrait of the long dark time- camp existence of the displaced community. This memoir will go on to become a vital historical document on Kashmir history, immortalizing the lives/stories of displacement of thousands of unknown, forgotten Kashmiri Pandits who lived and died in the camps longing for their home.
Kashmiri Pandit refugee camp in tents, 1993. Garhi, Udhampur, J&K,India. My Uncle Vijay Dhar and his friends celebrate Holi.1992, Garhi Camp of Kashmiri Pandit refugees, UdhampurMuthi Camp quarters, Jammu where thousands of Kashmiri pandits lived for 15 yearsPurkhoo Camp of Kashmiri Pandits. All photographs from personal collection of Sushant Dhar
Bio:Sushant Dhar is a Jammu-based writer. His work has appeared in various magazines including The Punch, Outlook, The Fountain Ink, New Asian Writing, Kitaab, The Bombay Review, Muse India and others.
Guest post by Akhshar Koul, B.A. (Hons) in Archaeology from Maharaja Sayajirao University of Baroda.
INTRODUCTION
The first time visitor to Kashmir will really and surely be surprised to find almost every Kashmiri in the countryside carrying a fire-pot filled with burning charcoal in their hands under a long, baggy rug covering their entire bodies called the ‘Pheran’. It may sound strange to anyone and at the same time anybody living outside Kashmir would be awestruck who has no idea about Kangir, its use and its importance in winters. This ancient portable heat source is a fascination for others but necessity for a common Kashmiri.
Cultures in every part of world are, to a large extent, determined by geography and the climatic conditions of that part, among myriad other factors. It is these culturally important things, which are peculiar and unique to every geographical area that give identity to the nations or ethnicities of the world. Kashmiri Kangir is one of the cultural assets which has given identity and ethnicity to Kashmir.
Kangir – A Traditional Fire-pot of Kashmir is a unique cultural asset of the people of the valley used to beat away the freezing temperature in winters lasting usually for more than five months. It attains more significance over other modern or ancient heating appliances for being mobile, portable, affordable and durable. It is a common site in entire Kashmir valley, especially in rural areas to find people irrespective of their age, gender, economic status, moving through the streets with fire in their lap in the form of Kangir. To stave of the cold, there is no alternative to Kangir as the raw material used in its production and artisans are readily available in abundance as against other resources like electricity and LPG heaters which remains almost unavailable during the winter season.
Among the world’s most unique traditions, which are still in vogue as much as they were on the day of their first use, is the Kashmiri Kangir. Kangir is culturally specific to Kashmiris who have been using it since ages. In simple language we can say a common Kashmiri is incomplete without Kangir especially during the chilling months of winter. One of the prominent Sufi poet, Nund-e-Reush (Reshi) from Kashmir has said:
“Wandi Hamam tê Rekalé gaaw
Suai mali dunyahas aaw”
(Who has warm chambers for the winter and milk to drink
in summer and get dung to burn in winter is the most prepared one).
Kangir has been an integral part of Kashmiri people culturally as well as socially. Besides being a utility, it is an ornament to a common Kashmiri. We can relate Kangir of a common Kashmiri to the cultural or folkloric way of fighting cold.
The Kashmiri proverb “What Laila was to Majnu, so is the Kangir to a Kashmiri”. Such is the intimacy between the Kashmiri and his Kangir. This intimacy has been well illustrated by the writers, poets and thinkers of Kashmir in their literary works. The same intense relationship between Kangir and the natives of the valley has been well highlighted in a famous local poem:
“Mann me zolum lolle naaren,
Tan me zejim Kangre.
Waare warey pray khejim,
Maye lejim Kangre.”
(My inner soul is burnt by the eternal love,
And my body skin by the Kangir.
Steadily, it made me so sluggish as in incubation,
So much intimate is my Kangir.)
Generally Kashmir markets are flooded with Kangiris during the winter season mostly from the month of November up to April but the use of Kangir can be witnessed from ending September in the areas of higher altitudes such as Gulmarg, Sonmarg, Daksum etc. The tribal people living in the foothills of middle and lesser Himalayas and Pir Panjal Ranges keep Kangir with them almost throughout the year. Such people experience a very hard life but they easily and readily manage the Kangiri fuel in the wild. In fact these are the people which supply most of the coal to urban markets and earn their livelihood.
Map showing the study area (Courtesy: Google)
HISTORY AND USAGE
Wicker work, pottery and Kangir weaving art has been prevalent in Kashmir since generations. There are hardly any written manuscripts to date back its history. However there are so many indirect evidences which point towards the fact that Kangir has been there from hundreds of years back. Since Kani and Kondal are indispensable parts of Kangir, these crafts are again believed to be residing in Kashmir from hundreds of years too. When did Kashmiris started to make use of Kangir? I asked this to an artisan, Mohd. Akram Shah (Akram Kaniyul) from Tral, Pulwama in an interview. According to him, Kashmiris in the ancient times used to go to Punjab to escape the harshness of winters and do some work there to earn their livelihood. Hardly anyone would stay back in Kashmir. Amid such winter migrations some ordinary Kashmiris in a particular winter did not migrate. They decided to steeve away the cold by keeping embers filled in earthen pots without any wicker usage, which is marked as the beginning of Kangir in Kashmir. When their fellows returned back they were sure to find the non-migrant Kashmiris dead due to extreme cold. But to their surprise they saw them well and healthy and were awestruck. These people were shown the discovery which was really an innovation. Kangir certainly has evolved. It would not have been the same thing as we see it now. The artisan further said, “Well! Even the earthen pot was not baked outright. It too evolved. First the man, who said ‘no’ to migration got the pot made up of mud and dried it, filled it with embers, but it not resist the temperature and ripped apart. It was only then he got the idea of baking the pot in fire so as to make it resistant. This baked pot was called ‘Mannen’. Since Mannen was a difficult thing to carry for it would get hot and was sure to bruise the hands or the body. It were the twigs from the mulberry tree from which the people used to encase the Mannen. It was a pot in the basket like thing”.
Some historians believe that Kangiris have come to Kashmir from Italy as Italian artisans visited Kashmir during Mughal period in summers. In Italy (where a similar device was known as ‘Scaladins’) and Spain, braziers were made in a great variety of shapes and were profusely ornamented. The same historians relate these braziers to the Kashmiri Kangir. Most of the historical data, however, do not support the view point that Kangir came from Italy. There are varied viewpoints regarding the origin of Kangir in Kashmir. Some attribute it to the invention of Zain-ul-Abadin (Badh Shah) and some others relate it to Mughal Emperor Akbar.
Marc Aurel Stein an Hungarian-British archaeologist, who translated Kalhana’s Rajtarangni (River of Kings) in English, refers to a situation in volume-1 of his a fore mentioned book, “Brahmans had assembled in Gokula to decide on who should be raised to the throne in Utpalas dynasty. They had come in coarse woolen clothes with beards scorched by smoke”. He further comments that the burn marks on Brahmins’ beards were evidently left by Kangir or brazier which has been in general use since earlier times.
M.A. Stein, opined that the name Kangir has been derived from the Sanskrit word ‘Kasthangari’ (Kash-wood, Anjarika-fire embers).
Maharaja Pratap Singh (1885-1925) is believed to be the architect of modern wicker art. It was he who established the first ever wicker craft training center in Srinagar in 1914 with Mr. Andrew as its first principal who belonged to England. Mr. Andrew introduced, for the first time, the English Salix in Srinagar. He planted the English Salix trees around Bagh-e-Ali Mardan Khan marshes. Such dwarf trees exclusively yielded the Salix wicker (Vir Kani). This training center imparted wicker weaving training to many local craftsman which were called ‘Shakhsaaz’.
Oral traditions have transcended from generation to generation defining the use of Kangir from the times immemorial. The same tradition is being followed by the current generations with slightest or no alterations at the artisan level. Common Kashmiris have been using Kangir in the winter months starting from November up to April and more so during the chilling months of December and January (the period of 40 sever cold days locally called ‘Chillai Kalan’ starts from 22nd December). Usually and traditionally Kangir filled with burning charcoal (ember) is used under long baggy costume called ‘Pheran’, but nowadays it is used otherwise also under the blankets, shawls etc. Kangir being a portable heat source is also carried to the work places by the people. Generally, children and aged people are disallowed to carry Kangir outside their homes. While sitting, its use is safer compared to its use during sleep or moving outside. During the local scuffle, Kangir can prove to be a devastating weapon if thrown upon the opposite person or party. Such incidents do not very often occur but do have a rare incidence.
There have been attempts to alter the very basic structure of Kangir to make it a modernized equipment in homes and offices but the essence of Kangir could not be changed. The Kangir has always remained in its basic ancient shape with slightest modifications. In fact the local people of Kashmir prefer Kangir over all other modern appliances for the issues like expensiveness, less-availability of electricity, LPG, etc.
A Kashmiri peasant holding Kangri. 1912 from ‘Beyond the Pir Panjal life and missionary enterprise in Kashmir’ by Ernest F. Neve (1914, first published in 1912). SearchKashmir Archive
Art and Crafts Jammu and Kashmir Land People Culture by D.N. Saraf’ (1987). SearchKashmir archive.
The fuel for the Kangir, usually charcoal, is locally prepared by the people in rural areas and is supplied on relatively cheaper rates to the urban population that is again the obvious reason for a common Kashmiri to use Kangir as a general source of heat to beat the cold.
There are so many forms of coal available in the market for its use in Kangir. The user, according to the requirement chooses the quality of coal (the forms vary in size, weight, hardness etc. which directly effects its heating property) and purchases it in bulk so as to store it for the longer period of precipitation and cold.
It is a common site in Kashmir that elderly ladies loading the Kondals of Kangiris with charcoal early at the dawn and burning its upper layer by hot burnt ash, burning cardboard, saw dust or simply the burnt straw. For hard coal (which is more durable and long lasting) one needs to blow more air for its ignition which is mostly provided by mouth or hand fans. It takes about half an hour daily to prepare a Kangir and usually 3-4 Kangiris are prepared on daily basis in a family. Usually a well prepared Kangir lasts for 16-18 hours with a moderate to intense heat. When more heat is needed, the stirrer or spindle (Czalan) is used to scatter the ash and bring up the burning ember below it. In rural areas people roast pieces of meat by sticking it to the inner surface of the Kondal. The entire small sized potatoes and eggs are also roasted in the Kangir which have a unique taste different from the boiled ones.
When a Kangir its use has to be put off, a heavy round and flattened (discoid) stone is pressed upon the burning charcoal and rested there for an hour or so. This is usually done late night after its full day usage. Before preparing the Kangir next day, the left over ash and the unburnt coal at the bottom of the Kondal are discarded and fresh coal is filled in. The unburnt coal is seldom mixed with the fresh coal usually during the dearth of fuel.
The fully exhausted coal, turned into ash after discarding it is still not a waste product. It is used in kitchen gardens to cover the top soil to make it soft so that the seeds germinate efficiently and the seed viability is increased. It also increases the soil fertility and the essential nutrients of soil are continuously replenished preventing the soil nutrient deficiency for its constant use.
RAW MATERIALS AND CRAFT PRODUCTION
The Kangir is essentially made up two parts viz. earthen oval pot and the wicker case. Both these parts have local origin and are not imported from elsewhere. A craftsman needs very little but unique tools including ‘Aend’, ‘Aear’ and ‘Zelan’. The Aend is a curved and sharp edged tool meant for cutting the wicker. Aear is a pointed metal rod like tool with a wooden handle meant for making the passage for wicker through the wicker network. The Zelan is a locally made wicker peeling device which again has sharp edges.
Tools used in Kangir weaving
The earthen oval pot natively known as ‘Kondal’ is a wide mouthed earthen pot made locally by potters from fine clay and has a rounded bottom with a flat base. It is prepared by the potters exclusively for the preparation of Kangir.
Fig.5. Kondal used in Kangir
The wicker case with 2 arms and a wide base is made out of different type of soft twigs generally obtained from the shrubs growing in the wild in the countryside distributed almost althrough the valley. These soft twigs are called ‘Kani/Kane’ in the native language. The most common soft twigs (wicker) or Kani include ‘Posh-Kani’ (short and white in colour), ‘Linn-Kani’, ‘Ketzch Kani’ (dull brown in colour), ‘Viri-Kani’, ‘Geir Kani’, ‘Pakhir Kani’, ‘Puhir Kani’, ‘Fras Kani’, ‘Krele Kani’, ‘Dael Kani’ (6 ft. long and white in colour), ‘Rang Kani’ (coloured) etc. The people associated with this craft have to go miles together in the wild in search of fine and desirable wicker according to the suitability of the type of Kangir they intend to make. The wicker brought from the wild needs to be processed before its proper use. To increase the elasticity of the wicker, it is kept for days together under water which not only makes it softer but also enables the craftsman to remove their bark (peeling) easily. After this the wicker is sorted and graded according to the length and girth of twigs and the ones which are not straight are rejected. The fine, soft and peeled wicker is then sun-dried for several days and some are dyed in different colors. For weaving a Kangir the artisans need both peeled as well as unpeeled wicker for its different formations. The bushes from which the wicker is obtained are shrubby plants from which generally two harvests of wicker (Kani) are made annually. One harvest in ending May to the middle of June yields comparatively softer material and the one harvested at the end of September yields the hard wicker.
Softening the wicker by dipping it in water
There are two different phases for the production of Kangir involving the people from two different fields of art. One is pottery and other is wicker craft. For a potter to make a ‘Kondal’ the fine clay has to be well worked upon and well prepared to be given the proper shape upon the traditional wheel. It is then kiln-dried before sending them to the wicker workers.
The wicker encasing upon the ‘Kondal’ makes a complete Kangir which is the domain of wicker craftsman. They get the Kondals from the potters and start weaving the network of ‘Kani’ to cover the whole ‘Kondal’. Initially the base is woven which is called ‘Czhok’ on which rests the ‘Kondal’. From the base thick wicker are woven vertically upwards keeping regular distances in between like pillars in buildings. These upright thick wickers vary in number from ten to twenty-four depending upon the type and the durability of the Kangir. The basic number is usually ten and such Kangir is called ‘10-Puheir’ (Deh-Puheir) Kangir. Accordingly 12, 14 or 24 upright twigs used give rise to ‘Bah-Puhier’, ‘Czodha-Puhier’, ‘Czowuh-Puhier’ respectively.
The fine network of more soft and thin twigs is interwoven around these vertical twigs from the base (Czhok) upwards. The artisans use different colored twigs for different turns of weaving one upon another. The wicker interweaving around the vertical twigs from the base up to the mouth of the Kondal is a repetitive process and a fine art which is restricted to the fine hands of the Kangiri artisans. From the base up to the mouth of earthen pot, the whole wickerwork along with the Kondal is called ‘Dhad’ (Body of the Kangir).
Craftsman at work
From the mouth of the Kondal upwards, the vertical wickers give rise to the upper part of the Kangir called ‘Koup’. All the upright twigs do not form the ‘Koup’, only the ones at the designated backside contribute in the formation of the ‘Koup’. The others are cut or bent down towards the inner side in between the Kondal and the wicker encasement. The Koup is again a network of twigs, generally vertical which comprises of two handles for the hand grip tied together by a knot.
(Gand or Koup Gand) at its apex using very soft wicker twigs. From the back side all the vertical twigs are joined in threes or fours to the twin handle. At the point of junction there is a wicker ring (Kourr) at the back just below the knot to hang the ‘Czalan’, the spindle/stirrer usually made of wood (occasionally made up of metal) tied by the help of a string.
The ‘Dhad’ and the ‘Koup’ together make a Kangir. In rural areas, some poor families use only the ‘Kondal’ in place of Kangir with certain alteration. Such Kondal without any wickerwork having the handles is called ‘Mannen’.
Sketch showing the parts of Kangir
Since the basic structure of the Kangir is same everywhere in Kashmir but slight to large variations are witnessed in the makeup of Kangir at different places. Apart from spatial variations there are certain other variants of Kangir which the artisans make keeping the social and economic status and the tastes of the buyer in mind. Some well-known variants of Kangir on the basis of spatial variations are:
Bandpur Kangir
Tchrar Kangir
Trale Kangir
Herpur Kangir
Zeingir Kangir
Variants of Kangir on the basis of its structural ornamentations include:
Dabedar Kangir
Dooredar Kangir
Pachhdar Kangir
Zaeildar Kangir
Cheshedar Kangir
Mahrin Kangir
Wudd/Isband Kangir
Shishar Kangir
Tapan Kangir
Dali Kangir
Roinni Kangir
On the basis of types wicker twigs used, the Kangir can be identified as:
Posh Kangir
Linn Kangir
Kzetch Kangir
Vir Kangir
Mannen (without wicker encasement)
The distinctive qualities of Kangir vary with its different types keeping the basic essence intact. An artisan from Tchrar-e-Sharif, Ali Mohd. Dar (Ali Kaniyul) has been weaving Kangir since last 40 years with the distinction of having great expertise for the renowned ‘Tchrar Kangir’. He owes his efficiency of art to better deeds of his forefathers and relates it to the divinity. According to him and the other such workers of the area, the Kangir weaving art especially that of Tchrar Kangir is the blessing of ‘Nund Rishi’ the famous Sufi saint of Kashmir.
Mahrin Kangir
Pachhdar Kangir
Trale Kangir
Tchrar Kangir
Bandpur Kangir
Shupien Kangir
MARKETING AND CRAFTS CONDITIONS
It becomes a more cherishable virtue when any invention of great importance has a native origin and local use. Initially Kangir was only a necessity but now it has attained the status of a big venture which not only serves its primary purpose but also has a great economic impact on a large set of population who are wholly or partially associated upon this craft.
At the beginning of the season, when the slight cold begins to start, the Kangir shows its presence in the markets and with every passing day high heaps of Kangiris get continuously sold with a great demand. The artisans have to be well prepared before the onset of cold to meet the demands of the market. The full time artisans spend almost all the time throughout the year in collecting wicker, drying, processing and manufacturing the final product for being totally dependent upon this art for their livelihood.
Variety of Kangiris on display
With the betterment in the general economic condition of the masses owing to various governmental and non-governmental schemes, the artisans too have been able to upgrade their conditions as the affordability of the common consumers according to their tastes has exponentially increased. Some families have sustained their livelihood since decades solely on the wicker art by getting the raw materials themselves and then processing it and manufacturing the product on their own. They have turned the confined art into an industry and have made it an economic venture with very little investment. Such artisans have been able to change their economic status by getting better marketing facilities in urban areas which was otherwise confined to the rural habitations only. The road connectivity has contributed a lot in shaping the future of these artisans and the art itself. Kangir art is not confined to wicker artisans only but it has attained a multifaceted status in the manufacturing sector as it has directly affected the financial conditions of so many allied workers like potters, laborers, transporters, wholesale dealers and the retail sellers. Indirectly the Kangir art has also benefited the economic conditions of both local as well as non-local charcoal suppliers as with the increased demand of Kangir, the demand of charcoal is also increased.
The important constituent of Kangir, the Kondal (the earthen pot) meant for keeping the burnt charcoal is being supplied by the potters which has made it convenient to keep their art still prevalent in the valley, otherwise the pottery art would have been extinct by now. Not only has the Kangir art influenced the potters economically but also has been able to preserve this rare and cultural asset (pottery) of Kashmir till date.
With the passage of time, where the actual manufacturing cost of Kangir has almost doubled; its demand and market price has increased many fold, positively influencing the artisans’ economy and livelihood.
The market price of Kangir varies from place to place depending upon its type and durability. For a common man, a better Kangir is the one with better wicker and a big broad Kondal to last long and harbor more charcoal. There are some others who love to buy more ornamented Kangiris compromising the durability. The people with the trade, knowing such tastes of the customers fluctuate the price of the Kangir. Such price fluctuations are again under the control of changing climates and general local weather conditions. A simple, moderately durable Kangir is within the purchasing capacity of a common man and ranges between ₹100 and 250. Some Kangiris such as ‘Mahrin Kangir’, used in wedding occasions are more expensive for their beautiful ornamentation and better looks and range from ₹800 to 2000.
Kangiri seller in Batmaloo, Srinagar
With the industrial revolution and the advancement in technology the lifestyle of the common masses changed in such a way that the life of the people living even in remote villages became comfortable to live. New gadgets replaced the traditional equipment and many such traditional things became irrelevant and obsolete. There are number of heating appliances being used by the people world-over and Kashmir is no exception. Electric heaters, gas heaters, hot air blowers, central heating systems etc. are being used in common households across the valley. Despite all this the use of Kangir has not diminished in any way. In fact the manufacturing of Kangiris has manifold increased with the passage of time because none of the modern heating appliances could replace this traditional source of heat for its various virtues which the modern appliances usually lack e.g., its portability, affordability, convince of use, non-dependence on electricity etc. The scarcity of water in winter vis-à-vis the less availability of electricity makes Kangir more efficient and readily available source of heating.
The wicker art, pottery and overall Kangir manufacturing has not attained an industrial status in the UT of J&K because of the callus approach from all the governments so far. Till now no concrete step has been taken to establish these arts as cottage industries or small scale industries. It has always been an added disadvantages to the already miserable conditions of the artisans depriving them from the opportunities they could have got if any government or any non-governmental organizations would have stood in their favor. This industry could have flourished well and the families associated with this craft would have been benefited directly and their life status and economy would have been upgraded. Presently, this art gets transcended from generation to generation only but once this art is given a status of an industry, it can flourish so well that it will open new employment opportunities and will not remain confined to a few communities. Its area specificity will be reduced with greater involvement of people that will directly have bearing on the economic condition of the people.
RELIGIOUS AND CULTURAL PERSPECTIVE
Apart from its prime usage, Kangir has a unique cultural and religious importance too. In Kashmir varied faiths of people live together in harmony for having certain common cultural and religious practices wherein the use of Kangir is indispensable. Being one of the important cultural assets, Kangir has attained a high sanctity in most of the cultural festivals celebrated by the people of all faiths.
Hookah has been in use from ancient times in Kashmir and people have been using it irrespective of any religion. The ember of Kangir is being used to burn the wet tobacco using blunt forks (Chumte). Where there is Hookah, there is Kangir as well, as is seen in most of the rural households even during the summers also.
Almost all cultural/social festivals in Kashmir begin with burning of ‘Isband/Vudhe’ (Peganum harmala seeds) similar to lighting of candles in the inaugural functions of events elsewhere. The burning of Isband yields the smoke with a unique aroma having a characteristic fragrance which soothes the mind and soul, believed to repel away the evil and negative energies. Isband is not generally burnt in ordinary ‘Tapan Kangir’ (non-ornamented Kangir used only for heating by the common people) but in special Kangiris; well-ornamented and well decorated called ‘Isband Kangir’ is used for this purpose. Such Kangiris are ordered on demand and costs high. Such practices of burning Isband in specialized Kangiris can be witnessed in common Kashmiri wedding ceremonies irrespective of the religious faiths. The Kashmiri Pandits call it ‘Isband’ and ‘Isband Kangir’ whereas the Kashmir Muslims refer it as ‘Vudhe’ and ‘Vudhe Kangir’.
The religious importance of Kangir is mostly confined to the Kashmiri Pandits who on almost all the occasions use Isband vis-à-vis Kangir. In wedding ceremonies of Pandits, there are many religious events like ‘Devgon’ (the sacred bath and puja before wedding), ‘Lagan’ (the event of marriage with the narration of Vedic hymns) etc. wherein the burning of Isband is mandatory.
Kashmiri Pandit woman burning Isband
Kashmiri Pandits celebrate a festival having both religious and cultural importance known as ‘Shishur’ (the grand invitation to the relatives and friends on Shishur-maas of the first year of the new bride or any new-born in a family). On this occasion a well decorated, colorful Kangir, without coal, having empty Kondal, is kept in front of the bride or the new born in which the invitees are supposed to put money according to their will as a token of love and blessings to the bride in particular and the whole family in general.
On ‘Mekhal/Yagnyopavit’ ceremony (wearing of sacred thread/Janaue with Vedic sermons) of young boys, Kashmiri Pandits again use Isband at its various stages during the entire ceremony.
The Brahmins and Purohits are given Kangir, clothes and other things of use along with the ‘Dakshina’ on almost all the religious occasions. Such things are also offered to the Brahmins on the ‘Kriya Karam’ and death anniversaries.
Burning of Isband in Kangir is also practiced by the people of other religions. Sikhs and Muslims too follow the same tradition on marriages and cultural ceremonies in Kashmir. The use of Isband is also practiced by the people to eradicate the so called evil from the household. It is believed that the evil spirits invading one’s body are swayed away by the aroma of Isband burnt in a Kangir. Such practice is wide spread in the valley.
Muslims also use ‘Vudhe Kangir’ at various occasions like marriage, circumcision, ear piercing of girls etc. Vudhe is burnt at the time of buying cloths for the bride or the groom, at the occasion of starting the ‘Chula’ for preparing the dishes for the wedding ceremony.
‘Mahrin Kangir’, highly ornamented Kangir with pendant rings is given to the bride at the time of her departure from her to the groom’s house as the symbol of care, affection and love. This Kangir is a highly decorated Kangir and generally kept as a memorial for a long period of time. Mahrin Kangir is an expensive Kangir which is prepared only by the expert artisans which needs artistic expertise and great experience. It is not usually available in the market and is ordered months before its actual use.
As a prime cultural aspect every Kashmiri, during winters is found associated with the Kangir all the time with a long cape ‘Pheran’ over it. It is seen as an essential item belonging to every individual from the month of November to April. This period being the idle period, the people of different age groups are seen sitting in separate groups, gossiping about the different issues of social, political, economic and religious importance with soothing warmth of burning ember in their laps during the day time.
The young boys and girls during the harsh winters do remain busy with different type of indoor games that are played while sitting and having Kangir under their Pheran. Such playing groups, cherishing the warmth of Kangir is a very common sight in Kashmir especially in the villages where agricultural practices are totally halted due to sub-zero temperatures in winter.
MEDICAL AND ACCIDENTAL ISSUES
Most of the people in Kashmir better know the perfect use of Kangir and the time duration for using it. Almost every ancient or modern appliance, if operated improperly, can be a bane and Kangir is no exception to it. There are certain medical complications known, caused by the excessive use or imperfect use of Kangir in many people. There is a tolerance limit of skin for the temperature and the direct heat radiations beyond which the skin begins to react unusually giving rise to medical complications including allergies, burns, scars, tanning or some other serious issues.
The duration and intensity of heat plays an important role in causing such skin complications. The Kangir harbours the burning coal and at times emits severe heat beyond ones tolerance and sometimes there is moderate heat but prolonged durations. Both ways the result can be harmful affecting the skin directly, more so in case of people having sensitive skin.
Under prolonged exposers and intense heat the skin, at the points of contact, is adversely affected initiating with the change in skin color from normal to violet and then to red. This is the initial effect which can transform into severe skin burns, damaging the inner layers of the skin and sometimes leading to skin cancer also known as ‘Kangir Cancer’.
Bowen’s disease (Kangir Cancer) (Courtesy: Indian Journal of Dermatology)
As per the medical reports the Kangir-burn cancer is a local disease having a local cause and does not qualify for the general theories of cancer. Usually such burn affected people are locally treated in local hospitals except a very few with extremely severe complications. With the advancement in medical field, there are sufficient facilities in the local hospitals to effectively treat the patients with Kangir-burn cancers by way of surgery as well as medication. Legs, inner thigh muscles or abdomen if exposed to intense and prolonged heat of Kangir may develop the complications of Kangir-burn and skin cancer.
In early times the moderate scars and mild burns were treated locally by applying mustard oil few times a day which usually proved effective in treating such burns. Under extreme situations only the medical aid was sought. Nowadays with the improvement in the economic status, the people have access to better clothing that helps them prevent such complications.
Some more medical complications do result, when low quality of coal is used in the Kangir, emitting harmful fumes. Such fumes are directly inhaled by the user causing bronchial disorders and at times asthma or bronchitis.
Kangir related accidents, though rare, are also reported from different parts of the valley continuously bases. Some among these are actual accidents but others are deliberate attempts to cause harm to other. The local fights, heated arguments and scuffles, at times, result in throwing the loaded Kangir upon one another causing severe burn injuries especially on one’s head. Such incidents may cause face injuries, face burns and even complete blindness. At times, these injuries can prove fatal.
Excessive and callous use of Kangir has proven dangerous and has caused many accidents and even fires damaging properties. People have been using Kangir from early morning to late night in general but some people occasionally use it during the night in their beds. Most of such people hold it well all through the night but there some instances where the people lose the grip of the Kangir while in sleep and its ember gets scattered, burning the bedding and clothes. Such incidents can have huge destructive impacts upon the life and property of the people.
CONCLUSION
Kangir, being a heritage product, has not evolved much and has to a larger extent, retained its original makeup. Despite its historical importance, it is an extremely essential item of continuous and regular usage in Kashmir. Kangir is so familiar product that it can be seen in all the Kashmir households during the winter season. Interestingly, Kangir does not have any gender versions. It is same for all the genders, all the age groups without any religious bias or any social status.
With advanced technologies and scientific revolutions, Kashmir markets, along with the entire world, are flooded with sophisticated heating appliances but none could reduce or fade away the importance and utility of Kangir. The more advantage added to the Kangir is its portability and mobility. The people take it with them at their workplaces or even to the markets under Pheran held by its handles. Having two handles, it becomes convenient for the people to carry it either ways – by left as well as right hand.
It has survived many revolutions since its inception. Since its historical background is not totally evident but there are various evidences which point toward the fact that Kangir would have evolved since ancient times because necessities have always been there at the back of every invention.
The winter in Kashmir is so harsh that Kangir has attained an important status to beat away cold and make the life of a common Kashmiri comfortable. The less availability of electricity and LPG during winter season adds more scope to the Kangir to combat the chill.
Wicker art and pottery being indispensable parts of a Kangir have not still been given the status of an industry but the art is still flourishing in Kashmir for its constant demand in the market. Apart from being the source of heat, Kangir has been providing economic sustenance to a very large group of artisans and many such workers who are associated with this art. It has directly or indirectly raised the living standard of the families of the artisans spread across the valley, mostly in the remote rural areas. Further, the Kangir has been an item of great fascination for the visitors who usually travel to Kashmir during winter season. The tourists are so enthusiastic about Kangir that they usually buy it from market and take it along as a token of memory.
Irrespective of religion and social status, the Kangir is being used in almost all the religious festivals to burn the seeds of Isbandto emit the aroma, thought to be scared, soothing, destroying the evil forces and neutralizing the negative energies around the place. The use of Kangir is more prevalent in the religious festivals of Kashmiri Pandits who usually treat the fire as a sacred entity. However, the burning of Isband in Kangir on cultural festivals is practiced by almost all the people belonging to all religious sects.
Despite having immense advantages, Kangir has posed some accidental as well as medical complicacies. Kangir burn is one of the main curses of this product. It is caused by continuous and prolonged use of Kangir with high calorific value coal. Mild and average heating varieties of coal used in Kangir do not pose any such threat. If mishandled, Kangir can lead to huge, disastrous fire incidents and can cause loss of life and property. Many a times, we have been the prime witness to such incidents.
We can infer that Kangir, to a very large extent, is a boon the humankind in Kashmir if handled properly with care. It has proven to be an unsubstituted tool used for the abatement of chill in the valley of Kashmir. Its origin, raw materials and artisans are all indigenous. It is an ancient cultural heritage that has remained almost unaltered since its inception.
REFERENCES
Abbas, M.; Wali, M.; Shams-ud-din, L. & Miskeen (eds). (1997). Kashmir Encyclopedia. Vol.3. Srinagar: J&K Academy of Art Culture & Languages. Pp.254-262.
Chaman, C. L. (1985). Sheeraz: Kashmir Ajaibaat. Srinagar: J&K Academy of Art Culture & Languages. Pp.28-38.
Elmslie, W. J. (1866). Etiology of Epithelioma among the Kashmiris. Indian Medical Gazette. Vol.1 (11). Pp.324-326. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5170252/
Mattoo, A. M. (1988). Kashmir Under Mughals. Srinagar: Golden Horde Enterprises. Pp.183-208.
Pandit, M. A. (2011). Festivals of Kashmir. Srinagar: Gulshan Books. Pp.23-28.
Stein, M. A. (1979). Kalhana’s Rajtarangini: A Chronicle of the Kings of Kashmir. Vol.1. Westminster: Archibald Constable & Company, Ltd.
Sufi, G. M. (1945). History of Kashmir. Vol.1-2 Lahore: The University of Punjab.
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All photographs by Akhshar Koul (unless otherwise stated).
Shiva are embodiment of India. Illustration from an old Kashmiri magazine. Kashmir Research Institute, Srinagar.
I want to begin this article by thanking you, dear reader, who, after reading the article’s title, chose to read it instead of skipping it like many other readers. There must be perhaps something striking about the title that was perceived intriguingly by your conscious or your unconscious, something impulsive that made you want to read the words of this text and make sense. Perhaps it was the word Kashmir that struck some chords of your brain; perhaps it was the word Shaivism that triggered the (a)theistic regions of your brain or perhaps the word philosophy, or perhaps you chose to read it just for the sake of reading. Whatsoever the reason, I hope the readers will read the article to its end and be inspired to become Shiva. But I want to clear certain things here and now; I am not an expert to write something on a subject like this because there already have been many scholars extraordinary and highly advanced mystics who have already delved deep to the bottom of this ocean. But I believe that their readership is subjected to selective literary coteries, which has reached a dwindling number in the present time. This is not the first article on this subject, nor does this include my interpretation of any of the original texts on this subject. Instead, this article aims to provide a kaleidoscopic view of all that has been written about the philosophy of Kashmir Shaivism till now. To state the words of Michael Madhusudan Dutt, “In matters literary, old boy, I am too proud to stand before the world in borrowed clothes. I may borrow a neck-tie, or even a waist coat, but not the whole suit.” I, therefore, present this article to the readers as a bouquet containing flowers of Kashmir Shaivism plucked from different philosophical gardens of India.
Since the very beginning, Kashmir has been the cradle of various philosophies, the seat of the Goddess of learning. It was in this valley of Kashmir that Abhinavagupta (the great master of Kashmir Shaivism) appeared at that point of time when Shaivism had taken deep roots in the soil of Kashmir. Around 10-11 CE, Shaivism had become so embedded in the psyche of the Kashmiri populace that it had branched itself into various philosophical schools of thought such as Spanda, Pratyabhijna, Krama and Kaula. Thus, this task of integrating the above schools of thought under one shed was taken up by Abhinavagupta in his magnum opus ‘Tantralok’ or ‘The Light on the Tantras’, and the collection of these branches of a singular tree came to be known as the Trika Shaivism. Therefore, Trika Shaivism can be considered as a part of the whole (Kashmir Shaivism). The readers may, however, note that the terms Kashmir Shaivism and Trika are sometimes used interchangeably. But how did Kashmir Shaivism actually come into being? According to legend, Lord Shiva appeared in a dream to a venerable teacher by the name of Acharya Vasugupta, who lived in Kashmir in the 9th century. Lord Shiva told Vasugupta that He had inscribed secret teachings on a huge rock and that he should find this rock and spread these teachings to those who were worthy to receive them. The teachings inscribed on the rock were uncovered by the sage and came to be known as the Shiva Sutras, a set of 77 aphorisms on yoga. They are the seed of the philosophy and discipline of Kashmir Shaivism. The corpus of work in Kashmir Shaivism is a commentary on these sutras or an expansion of them. This is the origin of the Shivasutras and the beginning of the writings of Kashmir Shaivism.
The word “Shaivism” is derived from Shiva, which is the name given to the Ultimate Reality. Thus, the philosophy of Kashmir Shaivism describes the highest truth as supreme Shiva. Shiva is Chaitanya, the everlasting and all-pervasive consciousness. All that is experienced in the world is Shiva. Kashmir Shaivism is a philosophy of experience. The purpose of this doctrine is to show the individual the path to the right knowledge by overcoming his deep-rooted ignorance and casting aside his limitations. The philosophy is called “Kashmir Shaivism” because the Shivasutras on which it is based were revealed in the valley of Kashmir, and many of the philosophers who studied and wrote about the system lived in that area. The word ‘Trika’ means ‘three-fold’ because it analyses the nature of Shiva, Shakti and Nara, or God, soul and matter. Shiva is God; Shakti is God’s I-consciousness, and Nara is man (human). Trika is the pure Kashmiri philosophy enunciated by ancient Rishis of the valley, and it teaches that Shiva, Shakti and Nara are not different from one another. It states that Man and God are one and the same. In fact, just the supreme self, known as Shiva in this philosophical system, is the self of the entire universe.
The primary literature of the Shaivite philosophy may be broadly classified into three groups: 1)Agama-believed to be revelations (writing inspired), if not inspired by God; 2)Spanda– it lays down the critical doctrines of the system, expanding the revelations and 3)Pratyabhijna– it interprets those doctrines reasonably and logically.
According to Indian tradition, there is only one Ultimate Reality, but there are six fundamental interpretations of that Reality known as Shad Darshans or the Six systems of philosophy. These constitute India’s six classic philosophical schools: Nyaya, Vaiseshika, Samkhya, Yoga, Purva-Mimamsa and Uttara-Mimamsa (or Vedanta). Apart from these philosophical schools, Kashmir Shaivism occupies a unique position in Indian philosophy and differs from the rest in certain ways. To give the reader a clear picture of how Kashmir Shaivism differs or contradicts the schools mentioned above, I shall explain by giving an example (of Vedanta and Kashmir Shaivism) on the lines of Indian cosmological theories. According to the Advaita Vedanta school, their theory of creation is that of appearance, according to which there is actually no creation at all. As creation does not exist, it only appears to exist. What we think exists is, therefore, mere facts. This appearance of the universe is linked to the dream objects that appear in a dream. The objects of a dream seem to be real as long as the dream lasts. The objects of the dream, however, disappear once the dream comes to an end. One finds a striking resemblance between this theory and the statement made by the pre-socratic Parmenides of Elea “The world as we know it is illusory”.
On the other hand, the central premise of Kashmir Shaivism is that there is only one Ultimate Reality, and it is the sovereign will of God that is the cause of the manifest universe. This theory of creation is known as the principle of sovereign will (of God). Kashmir Shaivism holds that the world is born of Him, and He is the very fibre of its existence. The world under this doctrine is not a dream. It is real because Shiva manifests Himself in the world. Thus Shiva is within the world as well as beyond the world. Shiva, by his own free will, sends forth the universe from his own being, imparts existence to it, and again withdraws it into Himself. The cosmological structure of Trika Shaivism is based upon the 25 Samkhya categories of existence (tattva/elements). It, however, adds 11 more categories and thus, in Kashmir Shaivism, the total number of manifestational categories become 36, of which the highest category is Paramshiva, and the lowest one is that of the phenomenal world. Kashmir Shaivism believes in the existence of numerous realms besides our empirical world, and these realms are thought to be inhabited by beings invisible to the naked eye. To give the reader an idea of the nature of these tattvas or elements, I shall name a few of them, to wit: Five Great Elements (earth, water, fire, air, ether), Five Subtle elements (smell, taste, form, touch, sound), Five Organs of Action (creative, excretion, foot, hand, speech) etc. Thus, Paramshiva transcends all these 36 tattvas and exists as the pure being unaffected by all time, space, and causation while standing as the support and substratum of everything.
Kashmir Shaivism constructs a pure monism that assumes a single Reality (the Ultimate Reality) with two aspects, one transcending the universe (prakasha) and the other operating through it (vimarsha). According to this philosophical approach, every entity owes its existence to Shiva. Shiva as absolute God is pure light (prakasha) or the spiritual light of consciousness. On account of this light of consciousness, we are able to know what is to be known. Prakash is the aspect of self-realization which illuminates everything. Nevertheless, the Absolute as consciousness is not only light but also reflection (vimarsha). The reflective aspect of the Absolute discloses its dynamic nature. It is in and through reflection that the Absolute appears as phenomena. Vimarsha is the aspect that uses prakash to survey itself. The universe, as well as whatever there is in the universe, is the self-manifestation of the Absolute. This Ultimate Reality, according to the Trika system, is the core of all things and is known by the name of Paramshiva (the Supreme Shiva). He is beyond all manifestations; He is beyond the limitations of form. He is beyond change, always remaining transcendental and undiminished. The luminosity of the Absolute represents its static aspect. As the essence of light is reflection, so the Absolute shines forth as God through the five cosmic powers of manifestation, preservation, withdrawal, obscuration and revelation. It is through the reflective aspect that the Absolute expresses its five cosmic powers. At the conceptual level of thought, this aspect is known as Shakti, which in terms of religious devotion, is symbolized by the Goddess. It is shakti that imparts the necessary dynamism to the otherwise passive Shiva. The word Shakti is derived from the root “shak” meaning to be capable of; therefore, it is the power of consciousness to act or active aspect of consciousness. It is the cause of all motion and change observed throughout the manifest universe. Shakti, according to the Kashmir Shaivism, is the universal energy that brings all things into being; and as such, it is considered to be the feminine aspect of nature, the “Mother of the Universe.” In yogic parlance, Shakti is known as kundalini Shakti. It works ordinarily in all living beings. According to Arthur Avalon, “Kundalini is the state Shakti which is the individual’s bodily representative of the great cosmic power (Shakti) that creates and sustains the universe.”
Kashmir Shaivism has been called the religion of grace. It is through divine grace that the seeker of salvation is enabled to reach his esoteric goal of libration in terms of realizing his unity with the supreme consciousness, namely, Paramshiva. The final cosmic activity of God is said to be that of revelation, or the stage in which He reveals Himself as He is, as a consequence of His grace. The take of Kashmir Shaivism on God’s grace is that it should be seen as the mainspring of an individual’s search for liberation. However, the system maintains that grace should not be treated as being the result of one’s religious deeds. Grace is purely a gift from God; the descent of grace upon an individual occurs according to His free will. While pouring down His grace upon people, God does not necessarily take into consideration whether they have sinned or not. Grace is meant for the sinner primarily. Thus, the divine grace of God may be seen as the initial pointy of movement towards salvation. Though phenomenal existence is a manifestation of divine nature, it must be transcended because it is a state of limitation or imperfection. The three states of waking, dreaming and deep sleep, which comprise the whole of phenomenal life, are painful and constitute the realm of toil and suffering. During these states, freedom is reduced to a subordinate position. Therefore, the state of liberation, which is the fourth state called (turiya), is highly sought after. It is a state of spiritual revelation. There is, however, a still higher state of spiritual illumination that is known as the (turiyatita) that is, beyond the Fourth. Liberation is sought only upon the negation of bondage. Although in reality, there is no bondage, the individual is bound as long as he continues to feel limited. If he does not feel bound, he has no real problem. However, as long as he maintains a sense of ego and identity with the body, he remains in the realm of limitation and has to put forth self-effort to overcome his trials and sufferings. And this suffering acts as an essential stimulus for spiritual awakening. The final release or liberation consists of the realization of the absolute freedom or perfection. The attainment of freedom is possible only when one transcends the realm of Maya. Liberation is the recognition of one’s own true nature- the original, innate, pure I-consciousness. When an individual has this awareness, he knows his real nature and attains the bliss of the Universal Consciousness or Shiva-Consciousness. The highest form of bliss, according to Kashmir Shaivism, is Jagadananda or Lokananda, the bliss of the world, in which the whole world appears to the liberated soul as the embodiment of Shiva.
Kashmir Shaivism represents one of the most luminous attainments of the spiritual endeavour to relate human with the divine, being conceived as the happy marriage of the abstract with the realistic world of human experience. If one were to describe or explain the central idea and substance of Kashmir Monistic Shaivism, then one is often reminded of the observation made by Swami Utpalacharya, a distinguished Shaivite, who said, “I would bow in reverence before that great bhaktha, who performs no japa nor undertakes any dhyana but who finds Shiva in everything and everywhere.”
In the concluding part of the article, I would like to state a verse from Abhinavagupta’s Paramarthasara:
“It is in me that this universe reveals itself, like vases and other objects in a spotless mirror. From me, everything arises, just as the many different dreams arise from sleep. It is I whose form is this universe, just as a body has hands, feet, and sense organs. It is I who shines in everything, like a light shining in different forms.”
Thus, it would be apt to say that Kashmir Shaivism is the pinnacle of all philosophy, that there is nothing beyond it.
References:
Swami Lakshmanjoo, Kashmir Shaivism: The Secret Supreme
Nand Lal Shah, Kashmir Trika Philosophy and other Thoughts
Swami Tejomayananda, Introduction to Kashmir Shaivism
Moti Lal Pandit, Trika Shaivism: An Introduction
Swami Shankarananda, The Yoga of Kashmir Shaivism: consciousness is everything
Prof. Navjivan Rastogi, Introducing Kashmir Shaivism
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Satyarth Pandita is a BS-MS undergraduate student at an Indian Institute. He is doing his major in Biological Sciences. For him, the journey of writing began with sending short stories and paintings to ‘Springer'(Monthly Children’s Magazine) and now many of his short stories, essays and articles have been published in the state newspapers like ‘Daily Excelsior’, ‘State Times’ and in magazines like ‘Kitaab’, ‘All Ears’, ‘Ayaskala’ , and ‘TheStoryVault’.
Guest post by Roshan Lal Dass. Tales from the crypt called secretariat that invoke ghosts from past. It should be a proper genre in Kashmir.
The army cantonment in Srinagar is located in the huge area of Badami Bagh near Batwara. On one side in east it reaches up to Pandrethan and on the northern side it touches the famous Gupkar road where all the elite political families of Kashmir camp. This is a funny little episode that happened somewhere in late 70s and early 80s.
J&K government wanted money for the cantonment land. After a protracted correspondence and hectic lobbying by the J&K government with Delhi about the compensation for this huge chunk of land, the Ministry of Defence finally agreed to pay for it. The powerful people of the government in the state conceived a plan of grabbing the money from the central government which was virtually ready on a platter. Mr. Pji’s Parsi family had settled in Kashmir in early twentieth century where he became a big businessman working in fields like tourism to insurance. He is said to have acquired a lot of wealth and land. Not much is known about these Ps except that they were considered to be one of the first non-Kashmiri citizens of Kashmir. They were known for their unique red building located in heart of Residency road in Srinagar with an animal sculpture that regaled many a kids. The building burnt in 90s and the remains of the heritage building was razed to ground and a mall built over it by (it is said) a former terrorist turned “Gandhian”. But, we digress…
When the defence ministry asked the state government for official records of the land occupied by the army, they were flustered as there were none. The whole land was nazool land which in revenue terms means there is no real owner. Only a small patch of land belonged to Mr. Pji who was in good books of powers both in state and union government. It is said that when Jinnah came to Kashmir in 1920s, he stayed in Pji’s house. Mr.Pji was summoned by one of the big powers of the Jammu & Kashmir state and a conspiracy was hatched. After a month or so Mr. Pji made a claim with both state and union defence ministry that the huge chunk of land in the cantonment belonged to his family and he should get the full market value of the land . The revenue officials right from Patwaris, Girdhawars, Dy.Collectors and Collectors, right from serving to retired, were coerced, cajoled and bribed by the persons in power into preparing fictitious revenue maps and mutations in favour of Mr. Pji’s family. The deal had been struck wherein 75 percent of the paid amount would be shared by the powers and 25 percent would be pocketed by Mr. Pji. He was directed to do all the dealings with the defence ministry in New Delhi himself. After about a year of parleying and negotiations between Mr. Pji and Defence Ministry and after multiple trips by him to Delhi, the payment was rendered to him in lump sum. With all honestly, he paid the amount to the main conspirators and pocketed 25% of his share. It was a story with a happy ending and win win situation for all the conspirators. Or, so it seemed.
A big twist took place in the story. After about a year or so, Mr. Pji received a notice from the Central Landed Estate department that he had to pay an estate duty on the huge sale of land and the payment which he got from the Defence ministry. He was shocked as none of them had an inkling of this factor. The duty was demanded which came to about 25% of the whole amount. At first he ignored the notice but he was pressurised by the Landed Estate Department into making the payment. Mr. Pji discussed the matter with other conspirators and asked them that the money would have to be redistributed proportionately. He was surprised on receiving the reply that they had reinvested the money somewhere else and they could not arrange the money immediately. However, he was promised that he would be fully reimbursed in due course of time if he made the payment to the Estate Department. Mr. Pji paid up the money and waited for others to reimburse him. No money was paid to him even after repeated pleas and even after threatening them to expose the deal. They simply told him that they had nothing to do with this deal and he would have to bear consequences himself. It took him sometime to realise that he had been duped and left with no money in this deal. He did not even get reimbursed for the money he spent on his frequent trips to Delhi and hotel stays.
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A Bonus tale
A station of Mr. Biswas
One Bengali namely Mr. Biswas had settled in Srinagar right from early nineteen twenties. He was a successful businessman and owned a petrol filling station in heart of the city. The business was good and it served the family’s needs right up to three generations. Family had a four storied house just near the pump. By eighties of last century the station looked outdated and old fashioned. The business was shrinking. The surviving grandson of Mr. Biswas put a proposal of winding up the filling station and converting it into a multi-storied shopping complex. The proposal was put forth before the authorities and the file finally went up-to the highest authority of that time. Biswas was asked to pay a huge bribe for grant of permission. Biswas refused to pay up. The whole place including the petrol filling station is still in in that depilated state looking like an eyesore in the middle of a posh area.
P.S. This is how internally the land matters worked in Jammu & Kashmir.
Anmol Kachroo[instagram] takes a journey to Kashmir to find the address of his old house in Anantnag. He comes across walls that were once home to Kashmiri Pandits.
Shared by Shivani Pandita from her personal family collection.
She writes:
In the center holding the baby (my eldest masi, Chuni Pandit), is my maternal grandmother, Leelawati Pandit. She must have been 20-21 yrs old in this picture. The others are Leelawati’s siblings. This picture must have been shot at her parental home in Dadsara village in Tral sub-district of Kashmir . My Nani was 11 years old when she got married but she had her first daughter after 10/11 years of marriage. This picture is shot somewhere between 1934-36 and is one of the few that survived time and migration. My maternal family has been matriarchal as my grandfather died at a young age. Leelawati was not educated but very intelligent and hardworking, she even learnt reading and writing Hindi later from her grand daughter and even in advanced age was keen to learn.
Guest post by Rekha Wazir. She recalls how her Grandfather, Tara Chand Wazir came to be the first Kashmiri to fly in an aeroplane in 1921.
The Intrepid Kashmiri in the Flying Machine
by Rekha Wazir
According to Wazir family folklore, my grandfather, Tara Chand Wazir (1893-1979) was the first Kashmiri to fly in an aeroplane. I don’t know if this is factually correct, but this is what I will happily believe till somebody tells me otherwise! Of course, I am only talking about the residents of the Valley –even Kashmiris who migrated to India generations ago were not included in this record-making event. This is the story we were told:
A few lived it, many died and some waited. His last words were, ‘Where is Home?’
Refugee Camp, Jammu Province, 1990’s…
It was a sea of people. Hundreds of trucks were lined up; each carrying a home. I remember the day when one man lost his life to the blazing sun in the afternoon. He lived in our block. He was forty. He earned his living by binding books. He was playing cards on the roadside. Feeling dizzy he left in between, and fell panting in the middle of the road. People offered him water. He died instantly.
Pitambar Nath’s body was found on the banks of the river Tawi. He was cremated the same day at Devika Ghat. The next day we woke up to cries from the block adjacent to us. The temple was flooded with men and women. I saw an old man’s body wrapped in white cloth lying on the floor. He was being washed. A priest was chanting hymns. People were offering water to the dead. Gash Nath died due to electrocution. A high tension wire ran close to his quarter. The chant asking God for forgiveness reverberated in the entire camp. ‘Kshyantavue maiaprada shiv shiv shiv bho shree mahadev shambu’. The man who works at the crematorium says, ‘We mostly receive bodies for cremation from refugee camps.’
***
The whole camp is engulfed in a silence of despair and longing. A house with several rooms lies vacant in the village. Fifteen families have sought refuge in Narayan temple near the camp. Some live in sheds and fabricated structures alongside the railway station. One old woman is hurling abuses in her native language. She is sweating profusely. Her husband is continuously stamping the earth with his feet. He shouts at the sky, ‘This is galling, this is galling.’ He does this all day.
People are dying in numbers. The one in E-1 died of a snake bite. Hriday Nath succumbed to fever. One of the teachers from the Government School lost hold of himself. A week later, he left and never returned. Some say he was last seen at the crematorium and then at the bus stand. Did he ever board the bus to his home? Is he alive? Nobody knows.
***
The camp welfare association has been formed last night. Trilok Dhar will be taking us to the commissioner’s office. He has a few contacts. People taking refuge in Geeta Bhawan will also be joining us. Have you received the ration? They are giving 5 kilos rice to each family. This is the ration card. It has my permanent address. This is all what is left. We must carry it along with us every time. This is our identity. They are going to shift us to a different camp. It will be on a hilltop. Where are you going? You must not go out. The sun has come out early in the morning. Be with us for a few days. We will talk.
Niranjan Kak with a frozen flickering smile: I’ll take a walk over the wooden bridge. I’m feeling a bit perturbed. I have to take care of my cows. The fields have been left unattended. The garden is in complete disarray. Let me call Jigri. Where is Vijay? Where is Asha? What’s with the walnut tree? Why has it dried? Who has stolen the fruits? Look at the frozen sky. The river has changed its course. Someone has set my house on fire. It’s burning down to ashes, the house of my ancestors. Look at the mound of the dead. I must leave. I have things to do.
He lived alone in the camp in a shabby room covered by cobwebs. He mostly seated himself on the bed and at times on the wooden chair alongside his bed. The picture of his native house always lies close to him. It is not a dangerous illness but the memory of home that torments him for days and weeks. The sobs slow down when the darkness sets in. Nights are filled with shrieks and native songs.
I remember the way to my home, 200 meters from the bridge, near Farooq’s bakery.
‘I nurture my longing and see through days. I will wait. They say we will be taken in buses. I have packed everything. When are they taking us back? I make amends with my heart. I caress it. My heart starts throbbing violently when I visit the place. I tremble and run back. Look at the stream of tears flowing through my eyes. I have grown bitter over the years. I am losing my memory. It’s something like a bridge which hangs above the desert. The bridge shakes every second. It’s not fixed. One has to crawl to reach to the other end. It changes position. Many fell down and died. The old man and the woman couldn’t hold for long and jumped to death. I persisted for days and years. Hundreds died. Bridge remains. It hangs. It devours. I escape. I run. Horses cry, make sounds and gallop towards the bridge. I mount on a horse and take the route through mountains. I jump from mountain to mountain, peak to peak, into the valley of mountains and then towards a vast emerald blue sea spanning the entire universe. I have grown lonelier. Solitude is eating me up. Where have they gone? Who is jeering on the streets?
***
Where are my cigarettes? Have I turned a little sallower on face? No. Am I sweating? Yes. Who started this carnage? They. Who will stop this conflagration? Where are the firefighters? I’ll wait till my final breath. I have tumors in my stomach. It refuses to take food. I bark like a dog. There is mud all over on the sky. It’s on my face. There is no light. One day I will die in sleep. That must be liberating. Death will be my final emancipation. Deliverance.
Do you sense this turmoil in my heart, this devastation? Who can save this exile from dying in an alien land amidst strangers? Nobody! Waiting seems like dying, dying every day. Where is the priest? He is out for the tenth day at Ranbir canal. Who died? Bansi Lal from Block Q. How is Hriday Bhan? He is suffering from lung cancer. He pleads with God to give him death. How is his wife? She died a week back.
Have they cut down all the trees? There are no trees. This is desert. Where is the harvest of this season? Who stained it with blood? I wait for the return of winter. What’s with the sun? Who has fixed it over my head? Why is it not moving away? This is summer. Where are the hillocks? This is desert. Why is the window pane shut? There are no windows. Who will cry when I will die? Nobody. What to do with these memories that have accumulated in my heart? They assail me. Give them to fire. What to do with the dreams? Starve them. How many summers are waiting? My guts have dried. Water them.
Everything will be turned to ashes. Every one of us will die.
***
Who is groaning?
It’s him. He is trembling, another paroxysm of yearning. He is breathing heavily. Yes, he is alive. He lives.
Where is the photo frame with the picture of his house?
He flings it out.
Give it to him. Tell him, ‘The bus will come in an hour’.
I heard, ‘They are shifting us to another camp. People are already on the move. The place is around cement factories. Slum. Desert. Brick kilns. I am tired of moving from one camp to another camp. Where is home?’
Why these breathless, dreary sighs? Death is near. It has been set in motion. We will die like dogs. Look at them. They are galloping towards us. It’s a mob with swords and guns. Run!
Niranjan Kak is writing names on a paper. It is his permanent address. The place has been burnt. The house was looted. He wears pheran in summer. He has a long beard. The photo frame with the picture of his house hangs from his neck.
‘I will wait on the bridge for the whole day. I will wait for the fires to ebb. It is not that everything stands destroyed, that everything is in ruins, a memory still breathes, a laugh still resounds in the rooms, a house still stands tall and the earth still bears my footmarks. Flowers have dried and trees have picked a disease. Time has wilted them. They long for water.’
I haven’t locked my room and wardrobe. They have plundered it. The new pillows still lay on the bed waiting for my father to rest on them. My mother isn’t doing well. She has fever. I’ll go to the town to collect some medicines. My radio and new books are in the almirah.
***
He is on his bed now, muted. He doesn’t speak to anyone. He has stopped eating. He walks inside his room, making a circle every minute. He never comes out of his dwelling. He fears sun. He waits for winter. He waits for homecoming. He has grown weary and old. He has long hair and beard. He lays famished on his bed. His eyes are fixed on the ceiling. He wears a vacant look. He doesn’t blink for hours. He hides the pills and other medicines under his pillow. The chemist nearby the camp visits him every week and feeds him intravenously. He offers a faint cry, a wail every morning and evening.
What is life to me and what is its meaning? It’s a long tiring wait. It is futile. Flakes of snow welcome me at the door. Who lights the lamp? Smell the incense and see the rising embers. Where has the mystic gone? What’s with the people? Why have they gone mad? Who has killed Janki Nath and Bimla? Where is Ramesh? Everybody has fled. I hear gunshots. Do you hear? A mob is coming towards our house. Do you hear their slogans? They have taken a vow. Every one of us will be wiped away. There will be massacres. They are coming. They will kill us all. Where is Home?
He has grown hysterical and his memory keeps tormenting him.
Why are the trees bereft of their fruits? What has happened to them? Time has poisoned them. Desert has grown on snow. They grow only leaves and stems, no flowers. Where are the birds? What is with the water? Who has changed its color and its sweetness? It has become sour and frothy. What has happened to the village and its houses? Who has lived here? Who has left them? Who wails inside them? Where are the children? What memories they hold? Who cries all night? Let them stone me. Where should I go? I’ll bury myself in the walls or I’ll dig a sepulcher for myself. What’s with the fire and its flame? Who is dousing it?
I am reminded of a path that was all laden with grass and mist with dense woods. Now it’s only stones. I see a river passing by, a flock of sheep dotted with different colors, walnut trees, rice fields, clear sky and a thud of cold breeze floating on chinar leaves. I am reminded of the giant folding of mountains guarding our village. These are spherical dwellings, hovels. It is a new place. The house stands buried now. Bricks have turned into dust.
***
The next day I visited the engineer to borrow the almanac from him. He was preparing his bed, covering it with white bed sheet, two pillows at the head end and one at the other. He hurriedly allowed me to come in. He was delighted at the sight of seeing someone visiting him. He smiled with a sparkle on his face. I asked for almanac. He offered me tea. I shifted my gaze. A sour odor wafted in the room. Nauseating. The place was reeking. A strong stench emanated from the room. He had placed a kerosene stove on bricks. There were few utensils. A large portrait of a Goddess. A family portrait. Scraps of paper all over, each having the same thing written over, the address. Table Fan. A kerosene lamp hanging from the nail above a small wooden shelf. Ration Card. Books. A dusty mirror and a round comb. Ashtray. Cigarette stubs. A soiled sheet lying on the floor. The smell of quilt and mattress. We had our tea. He mentioned places and names. There were moments of silence.
‘I don’t believe in God, I believe in death, I saw many. I saw water turning black. I saw ghosts pillaging everything in their way. It is only between me and the flames. Only time will decide who will consume whom?’
‘The blood soaked hands rise in the dark, circling my neck. I lost them all. I’ll not survive this sweltering summer. I’m all dry. Parched stomach. This darkness is eating me up. I’ll die in disquiet. I vomit. I shiver. I breathe heavily. I have nausea. This is not home. I have been dragged here. I don’t belong to this place. I’m suffering today. I’ll suffer tonight. I’ll suffer tomorrow. It’s a vale of sufferings. I’m dying. I’m waiting for the winter. I’ll go home. I’ll die there. I’ll suffer there, but not in solitude. My stomach is long dead. The food is floating. My mouth is stinking. I can’t bear the stink. What will I do? I will stop my breath.
‘Winter has arrived. Bring me some snow, snow in round earthen vessel. It will not melt. Bring me some snow. I will touch it; I’ll let it melt in my hands. I will stand still when it starts snowing.’
He stopped in the middle of the conversation, something came upon him, and he started murmuring to himself, looked at me in an instant and started crying like a child. He rose from the bed and fell on his knees pleading with me to take him to his native home. ‘Take me. Take me to my home. I have money, I’ll spend it all. Take me to my home. I will kiss the walls of my house. I will die anytime. The sun is eating me. I haven’t slept for a week. This heat is charring me. Take me to the commissioner. Take my ration card and show it to them. This guy knows me. He is from our village. His father was my friend. He will arrange a taxi for me. Write a letter to the Government. Have this diary. Call my friend. He will take me home. Where have they all gone? She is here with me all the time. She loves strolling with me in the garden, walking down the road, and leading to the river gushing through the village. We sit for hours on the banks of the river. She dips her long hair in the water and waits for the sunrise.
‘I will walk close to that mountain surrounding the entire village. They say the river has reduced to a thin quiet stream. The river has dried. I will follow the stream. I will wait for the water to turn sweet. The wait is tiring. I lived life in solitude. I don’t die either.’
It was in the summer of the year 2000; Janmashtami festival was being celebrated in the camp. The temple was all flooded with devotees. A rather pale cloak of darkness had descended on the morning. The earth had lost its smell. He was in the middle of eating his lunch. The glass of water had spilled over. There was rice spattered all over his bed. His fingers were clenched tightly with one hand holding a fistful of rice. The tip of his tongue had come out, bruised and marked by streaks of blood. His mouth was half-filled with food. The eyes were dry and clear; a tear had rolled down his cheeks. His face looked as if marred by enormous grief and the picture of his native house hung from his neck. He was dead, lying on his feces. Ashen legs, blue swelled veins, bloated belly, blanched shaven glistening face and combed hair. His eyes gave me a long gaze. Niranjan Kak, the engineer was no more. I opened the pack in a hurry and smoked half of them. The other half I kept on his bed and went away.
Where have I left to, where have I come to In all corners has home’s love sunk to What do I tell thee, what have I been through
Pick up your pens, elegies should you write Hiding our identity, left we our homes Weeping us, abusing they, left we our homes
Exile is extirpating a chinar from its roots When does a wasteland reap verdure Sown to its own home, it springs furthermore
Ramayan’s end is now its start Gone have Rishis from the valley too Dashrath finally, but had to die Waiting for final rites, parched, he died
I, from birth, built a home like an ant Like a thief, I, a raazbaa’e left home too Having lost its way, where do I head to
In front of home were Sangrishi, in front Rishimoal When do I run to wash my Saptrishi’s feet Why division of humans when we all were one
Ganeshbal, Tulmul, Shankaracharya, Silgam Amarnath, on its head, sitting like a chief Lokutpur, you know, was my all-time abode
Nund Rishi, Sadarmaej, Mangladevi sthaan Uintpore astaan, with what feet do I go there Who will take taher on chodish to Zaala
How do I start towards Nilnaag Omoh And a far-off place where ‘Amir’ lives How do I reach Mukdoom Sahib and to Sharika
Where’s my father’s home and my in-laws’ Where are neighbours and childhood buddies Who’s gonna go to Vomaaye on gang’e atham
Where be our Koshur and its culture Where do I breathe under Chinar’s shade Where do I relax with kangri and chai from Samavaar
Don’t change colours, don’t you Kashmiri Pandits Tread truth’s way and don’t you fall fake Think what waste has exile turned us into
How do I forget the rishi’s abode— the home of sufis and saints Kashmir, I tell you, the ‘Nadan’ of Chandigam is devoted to you.
Notes on Translation:
Translated from Kashmiri. In its original form and language, this poem is very lyrical at most junctures. While translating, with whatever little I could, I tried to keep the flow as much as possible however pressing harder on rhyme would have lead to loss of meaning.
I had Rushdie in mind while translating. I wanted the Koshur in it to remain. Maybe, for posterity, like ‘atham’ to be remembered not as ‘ashtami’. So I left some of it unturned.
Because I was born in Delhi post exile, I don’t have the total grasp on the language and its dynamics. It is very much possible for me to misunderstand a word, a line or a stanza. Hence and otherwise too, I’m all in for constructive criticism.
Guest post by Atul Ravi. First photograph taken in his family.
Raghu Nath Zadoo seated on left wearing a cap
This pic was taken in some studio probably Mahatta but not sure . It was first day of my grandfather’s college. He had worn shoes for the first time in his life. The boys all dressed up and decided to get themselves clicked and barely managed to pool in money. It was the first pic in the family and was kept like that in our house. May be that’s how it survived .
My grandfathers name was Sh Raghu Nath Zadoo ( called as Rugh Nath in local lingo ). He was born in Gund Ahalmar Srinagar in 1920 to Smt Yemberzal and my Great Grandfather ( i don’t recall his name ). He was second in three siblings. He was first graduate in the family and completed BA , BT and BEd. He was politically active and was secretary of teachers association in Srinagar. He was also a recipient of Presidents Medal ( Bronze ) for his contribution to Census in Srinagar. He retired in 70s as Tehsil Education Officer. Post retirement he was an administrator in Hindu High School, Gankhan. He was also attached to Ganpatyar Mandir Committee . One particular incident I recall once we left Srinagar, he managed to get the salaries of few months of all teachers from the school and I could see the them thanking him in gratitude.
Post migration, he kept going to Srinagar and stayed in the house with all caution thrown to the wind. He only stopped when he became too old to travel. He lost his senses and was bedridden but in that state too he recalled Srinagar as his only refuge. He used to make gestures to my grandmother to pack and leave for Srinagar. When my uncle after few years went to our home, he saw that Grandfather had made arrangements like coals, wood, his walking stick, some clothes and dry vegetables for his next visit to Kashmir which never happened .
