Tag: hyundTiMusalmaan

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Brother from Kashmir

Guest post by Pratush Koul in which he remembers his brother from Kashmir


6th August 2013
Excelsior told us about you. How you left us and your mother all alone. She was bereaved the most. You were her only son and her sole reason to live. With you, gone were her materialistic attachments of the world. I can’t recall for how many days she stared at the door, waiting for you, waiting for her son. We were here at Jammu when we heard about you. It was past sunset, the news made us feel the dusk that day. Your memories were recalled, especially by dad, in front of whom you grew up. After this conversation, mom and dad went to sleep, but I was awake, haunted by the memories from 3 months ago when you last visited, the memories of Kashmir where we played cricket in your lawn and also by the fact that I’m never going to see my brother again, see my “Adil bhaiya” again.

2004
It was in summer – when I first traveled to Kashmir. The lakes, the green fields, and the mountains- they were all tempting. It was the 5th day of our visit I remember when we visited your home in Ompora. It was a simple, serene two storied house, I liked its appearance. When they went in the house, I got hold of my mom’s hand. My parents were greeted and were requested to sit on the “takhtposh” (A bed, short in height), When the Tea and Namkeen were being served, it was at that moment I saw you for the first time, from the crevice of the old door. You were called, and I remember you advancing towards my father and hugging him tightly, I was surprised. Then you hugged me. As we were sipping our tea you talked with my parents and I was at first startled by the fact that how were you able to talk in Kashmiri, it was believed by me that it was a special secret language. It was then explained to me after I was visibly alienated that your family and my parents had worked together in Kargil for 1-2 years. After talking with you for more than an hour, your mother asked you to take me for a stroll near the locality. My mom, being apprehensive, kindly denied as the atmosphere of Kashmir wasn’t good at that time, but after telling that Adil is with him and there is nothing to worry about, she agreed. I went with you, behind you, as you were leading the way across the lanes. We talked with each other, about weather, games, school and other things a 6 year old boy could think of. We were near a small shop and I remember meeting two of your friends. They greeted you but were looking differently at me. I could sense that something was amiss as when I moved my hand near them for a handshake, they ignored me. Then they asked you that who is this boy and where is he from. You told them that I was your brother. I glanced at you while the other two were surprised. Then I remembered one of them saying that he has a tilak on his forehead, how can he be your brother. I wasn’t able to understand that question but his tone changed dramatically after he pointed his finger on my forehead. I held your hand with my tiny fingers, sensing threat. Then you spoke”so what? He is my brother”. I felt safe after I heard these words and as I can recall, you shouted on him for scaring me and we left the place and headed straight home, on the way you told me that they were fools and don’t tell anyone about what happened. I said ok. At that day, I went out with a friend and came back with a brother.

As night started to pour in, my parents asked permission to leave as we had to head back to jawahar nagar, where we were staying. Your family tried all means to convince us for a night stay but the situation around that area was not welcoming. They allowed us to go on the condition that we come back as this visit wasn’t satisfactory. Mom and dad responded positively in unison. We headed back.

The next day, we came and had breakfast at your home. After a couple of hours as we were leaving, you started to argue with your mom that you wanted to join us. Dad said why not. So, as we leaved Ompora, with an extra accompany, we headed straight to Dal Lake. During the Shikara ride, I remember you being seated next to me, pointing at other shikara’s in the lake. As we reached the Char Chinaar Island, we clicked a lot of pictures, pictures of you posing in the white kurta pajama, pictures that were taken on houseboats, we hoped that we will only remember the time and events captured in these pictures, but when I see those pictures, I only see you, the person, the time and place seems irrelevant and blurred. After the ride, we headed to the revered shrine of Tulmul, in Ganderbal.

At that time, an auspicious day was celebrated. You joined us in the pooja and rituals and took the Prasad with us. At the end of the day, we went back to your home to drop you and the farewell was painfully difficult for me as you got all teary. We hugged each other and you said to me that we will meet soon. After bidding adieu to your family, we left.

January 2013

Months after grandpa passed away, I became quiet and didn’t talk much. One day, dad gets a call. It was from you. You wanted to visit us with some friends. My dad happily invited you and your friends and my mom prepared all kinds of food delicacies you enjoyed. Day after tomorrow, you arrived, with your three friends.


This time, as you entered the main door, I hugged you first. It was wonderful meeting you after 9 odd years. We talked a lot, about your college, my school, life back in Kashmir, your family etc. I talked with your friends also as dinner time approached. We relished on some of the finest Kashmiri delicacies and after you prayed your namaaz, we continued our talks from where we left from. It was a wonderful time, how your friends told me about your childhood menaces, how we enjoyed our previous visit and we also planned our next trip, a trip to the places we missed previously. After that we slept.

Next morning, I woke up late. I saw you pack your bags, I asked where we you going, my dad also joined. You replied that you have to leave for college. I wasn’t in the mood of letting you go. I insisted for another day, you politely declined. As you grabbed your bag and were about to leave, I asked “when will we meet next time? I didn’t even show you the pictures”. You replied”you will hear from me soon” and you left, just vanished from the main gate as I stood staring there for some time.

Present day

As I come across the old album, my eyes get all watery when it stares your face. It feels so different that I’m of the same age as yours when you left us. It feels so lonely. On that fateful day, I lost you to the deep waters of Harvan, a brother was lost that day. Looking back at our memories, I don’t see a skinny boy holding my hands while we walk through the dark lanes, I don’t see myself hiding away behind a boy when he taught some lunatics a lesson, I don’t see that shoulder on which I slept during travels, I don’t see those hands that taught me how to make shadow puppets but I see that brother for whom, age, distance and religion were no barriers. He was above them all. He stood for love and affection. Adil stood for the real Kashmiriyat. You will be remembered, you will be missed.

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Abhinavagupta on last word


Bollywood is a fantastic flytrap that captures all kind of wonderful cultural specimens. It does so intentionally or unintentionally.

In Masala Bollywood movies, there was a favorite formula involving a dying muslim. The rule was: if the film has a do-gooder muslim character, and if the character is dying, his last dying words are going to be “Laa ilaaha ill-Allaah”. In his last moments the guy has to remember God. The formula is repeated in countless movies, repeated often enough for us to know that if the character dies without completing the sentence, the hero will close the eye lids of the dead man and complete the line for him and then continue with decimation of the villain.

The dying words. It’s an interesting concept. The Muslim tradition comes from Hadiths. A good muslim is to die remembering God and be assured of a place in heaven. Even Kafirs may be given this option so that they may face less trouble in hell.

Meanwhile, we have the (fanciful) stories of Gandhi dying with “Hey Ram” on his lips. Where does the “holiness” of this idea come from? Why did it matter what his last words were? As a kid, I remember reading those booklets by “Hare-Rama-Hare-Krishna” people. There were chapters dedicated to the subject of death. A good Hindu is to remember God in his dying moments. And just like in case of Muslim, not just remember, but God’s name is supposed to be the last word uttered so that one may be assured of a place in Vaikuntha.

The idea comes from Gita which goes even further, the last thought, the last word, it lingers and has consequences. If your last words are of anger, you might get stuck in angry state. It is like dying last wish. According to Gita, in the last dying moments whatever the mind seeks, it gets. A teenage mind wanders, even back then the idea sounded frightful. What if someone dies in sleep, dreaming of dinosaurs? Or, worse still if one dies of diarrhea and shit is all one can think of? What if dying man dreams of Kashmir? Should everyone die dreaming of Kashmir? Is that what is happening?

Again in Bollywood, the concept is put to hilarious use in a little know film called “Bollywood Diaries” (2016) (by K.D. Satyam, writer of Anurag Kashyap’s Mukkabaaz). In the film a terminally ill guy who wanted all his life to be an actors comes up with the simplest plan to have his wish fulfilled. In his last days he surrounds himself with posters of films actors. In his last moment he remembers Amitabh Bachchan.

A religious text has propounded this theory. And the theory has obvious flaws which put a believer in awkward position, that too at the last defining moment of his believing life. If someone is dying, he should not be worried about these things. Even among Muslims, the flaw in the idea was obvious, so later commentators do say do remind the dying but don’t force the guy into saying “Laa ilaaha ill-Allaah” lest the poor guy gets irritated and ends up saying something worse like “Laa ilaaha Laa ilaaha”, and yet just make sure that his last words are “Laa ilaaha ill-Allaah” even if he previously said “Laa ilaaha Laa ilaaha”. The exact last words matter.

In most medieval commentaries on Gita, the importance of last word is emphasised. However, the flaw in this thinking was explored by Kashmiri Shaivite philosopher Abhinavagupta (c. 950 – 1016 AD). In his commentary on Gita, Abhinavagupta also asked the same questions: ” The moment of death can be devoid of happiness, sorrow or delusion/ What if the the man dies in sudden accident and has not time to think of anything? What if the man remembers cold sweet water of the village river? What if in dying moments the man thinks of his wife? Does the wife also die instantly and he gets to be with her forever? Or does his sole become one with his wife? “

These are doubts he had and these are questions he sought to answer.

Abhinavagupta’s answer: “At that very last moment (one who had been remembering God throughout his life) will remember God as a result of the impression created through continuous meditation and will be united with Parmaesvara. This is because he becomes free from the binding influence of time.”

Basically, Abhinavagupta believes that for a man who spent his life remembering God, the last critical moment is immaterial because time is a relative term. This answer to these queries may or may not matter sound rational. But, the fact that he sough to answer these questions means that people even back then could be rational about religious texts.It is amazing that people have spent so many centuries pondering over these issues borne of divine speech and texts.

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Reading the English translation of Abhinavagupta’s Gitartha Samgraha by Boris Marjanovic

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of hair and cut

A group of kids. 1950s. Kashmir.

The thing to note in the photograph is a glimpse of ancient pre-islamic Kashmir. Notice the kid in the front with the partial tonsure. The one with Ronaldo cut.

Tarikh-i-Kabir of Muhammad-ud-Din Fauq (1892) mentions that muslim kids just like non-muslim kids used to grow a tuft of hair on the crown of their head. This hair used to be later shaved off on a particular day, at some shrines (like at Baba Rishi near Gulmarg), and the event was much celebrated (zarakasai). The tuft was known as Shika (Sanskrit), topp (“cap” in Kashmiri) or bichur (‘tuft’ as in Bil-bichur like of Bulbul).

The act of having tonsure was and is common in eastern religions.

In Islam, there are hadith against keeping partial tonsure. As the Kashmiri Muslim society moved closer to following a more literal and puritan version of Islam, the practise disappeared

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A Host of Women, 1949

Kashmiri women at the Baby Show held at Srinagar on September 25, 1949,
during the meeting of the Kashmiri National Conference
[Source: Indian Photo Division]

The photo can be divided in three spaces:

1. The periphery, away from viewer: standing women hiding their faces from the camera. Probably, women from affluent Muslim families. The viewers.

2. The boundary formed by a row of women sitting on chairs. Mostly Pandit.

3. Closer to the viewer can be seen the women from working class: there are Muslim women in Pheran and some Pandit women in Saris. All of them sitting together on the ground. Some women feeding babies. The reason the pheran of women is shaped liked that. A woman with a tyok on her forehead and her head wrapped in a Sari, smiling, looking into the camera, happy to be photographed. A little girl in neat dress, her hair neatly tied with a ribbon, happy in her space, unmindful of the crowd. The girl seems to have run away from her spot in the sitting row and instead slipped away to sit with the common crowd, closer to the absent stage.

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The burning of Mansur in Kashmiri poems

When Kashmiris wanted to burn someone, they would often choose Mansur. Burning of Persian Sufi Mansur Al-Hallaj (c. 858 – March 26, 922) in Baghdad, was one of the most common idioms in Kashmiri sufi poetry.

If Lal Ded is considered the beginning of Kashmiri poetry, even in some of the lines attributed to her, we find Mansur. And Mansur is there in lines of Nund Rishi:

Koran Paraan Paraan kuna mudukh
Koran Paraan Paraan kun gai suur
Koran Paraan Paraan Zind kith ruzukh
Koran Paraan Paraan dodh Mansur

Why didn’t you die listening to Koran
How many turned to ashes listening to Koran
How did you live listening to Koran
Listening to Koran, Mansoor went ablaze

The same lines are sung by Pandits as vakh of Lal Ded replacing Koran with Gita. [listen] 
In fact in Abdul Wahab Shaayak’s Taareekh-e-Kashmir (1756), Lal Ded is called as Mansuur-al-Haaj’s sister. [*Political content in Vakhs of Lal Ded by R.L. Bhat]

A leaf from an illustrated manuscript on poetry, Kashmir, 19th century. 
via: christies.com. 
The scene depicts the burning and crucification of Mansur al-Hallaj.

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A strange wedding song, 1877

Kashmiri Dancing Girl
by V. C. Prinsep

An extract from Imperial India; an artist’s journals’ (1879) by V. C. Prinsep, who visited Kashmir around 1877.

One evening I went to a wedding. I was not allowed to join in the ceremony, but viewed the proceedings from an upper window. Seven days the tomasha had lasted, and day and night were women howling congratulatory verses to the bridegroom who sat feasting with his intimates the while. On a certain day rings are put into the bride’s ears and nose; on another her hands are marked with henna, and so on. She lived in a house hard by, where the happy man was allowed to see her for a short time each day, being conducted to and fro with mush ceremony and many torches stinking and reeking, as I found to my cost. I have taken down many of the distiches sung on the occasion, and am trying to get them translated, when, if they are worth it, I will add them to my diary. The continued howling of the women becomes very irksome after a time, and although the sight was curious, I was glad to get away after a couple of hours. The bride was nine years old.
The following is a translation of the songs sung at a Kashmirree wedding [by Major Henderson, C.S.I., the political officer in Kashmir]: –
Mother of the Bridegroom to the Bridegroom.
Urge on thy steed in every direction.
I will prepare thy seat in the garden pavilion:
On thy right the Koran, on thy left the necklace.
Thou art worthy to be called Lalla Gopal!

The Lalla Gopal in the verse needed some explanation. A note in the book adds, ‘Lalla Gopal, one of the names of Krishna, who was supposed to have been the type of loveliness. Curious, this, when sung by a Mohammedan!’
Prinsep further explains:

The song is a good picture of the manners of the country, and the way that the Moslem and hindoo customs have acted on each other. Whilst at Sreenugger I have painted two or three nautch girls, and it was through them that I got to this wedding, as they were amongst the singers. now these girls, like most nautch girls in India, were all Moslemehs, yet had they all the caste feeling of Hindoo. Of moral sentiment they were entirely innocent, but they would never permit any one to drink out of their cup or smoke from their hookah, and they always went about these two utensils, for smoke and tea are the two things necessary to a Kashmiree. So in this song a Kashmiree Moslem is made to say “beautiful as Krishna.”

There is another interesting line given in that song:

Singing women to the Bride and Bridegroom.
The parrot of Lahore and the Mainah of Kashmir!
How did you both become mutually acquainted?

[Check Heer from Kashmir, an old folksong from Punjab]

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Update August 4, 2017

Two readers (Indu Kilam and Sushma Kaul) at FB managed to recall Kashmiri lyrics for a similar sounding song. 


Gare hai drayus bazaar kune yae, 
wati samkheum bab papune yao, 
dachin kene thovnam koran parvunei, 
khover kene thovnam shama dazuevoneu
lut lut hutamas auush traviniye, 
dapunam kuri ye chu tchaluniye

here shama is lamp.

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On the steps of a temple, 1914

On the steps of a temple

Photograph from article ‘Behind the shutters of a Kashmir Zenana’ by Marion Whiting for Harper’s Magazine, Volume 129, 1914.

Village Martand (Mattan) figures mostly in this travelogue and as suggested by the title of the writing, focuses on women.

Among other things, she gives us description of Muslim New year being celebrated by the villagers at ruins of Martand temple:

That evening the new moon rose as advertised, and the New-Year celebrations began. But we were not prepared for what was to follow. Dinner was over, and we were lazily sitting in our comfortable camp-chairs warming ourselves in front of a huge bonfire. Presently the sound of singing came up from the village below, and soon it grew louder and louder. Then, emerging from the darkness into the light of our camp-fire, appeared what proved to be the entire population of Martand. First came a crowd of men and boys, and directly behind them women, singing, as they walked, a low, monotonous sort of chant. Close to the ruins of the temple they stopped, just near enough for us to make out in the firelight the outlines of their long, white scarfs and loose-hanging smocks. The singer arranged themselves into rows facing each other, each woman placing her hands on the shoulders of the woman next to her. Meanwhile the men had squatted on the ground in a circle around the performers, their knees up under their chins, their shawls wrapped tightly around them in a fashion peculiar to the Kashmiri. All the while the women were singing the same chant, over and over again, swaying back and forth in rhythm with the music. First one row would take the air, and then the other would respond in a sort of cadence, with always the same theme repeated again and again. The scene, so unexpected, was wonderful, the firelight illuminating the figures, the tall columns of the old temple rising behind, and the black night enveloping everything beyond. Our Kashmiri factotum was called upon to explain what it all meant.
“They come to the old temple to sing to Mohammed. they tell the story of his life. They tell his wanderings and his preachings, and then they tell long stories of what the Koran say must do. How the women must obey their husbands, how fathers must teach their sons, and how they all must worship the great God Allah!”
“Do they often come to the temple to sing?” we asked.
“Only at the New-Year,”he answered.
“And do the men never join in the ceremony?”
“no. Only the women; they do the singing.”
“But this was originally a Hindu temple,” we persisted. “Why do Mohammedans come here?”
“It is the custom,” he answered, vaguely, shrugging his shoulders.

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An interesting photograph by Howard Sochurek in from 1951 for Life Magazine. We can see a group of people dancing in front of Martand Temple.

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Dress Codes

Kashmiri Boat Girl
By Pandit Vishu Nath, 1890s

“Inquiring of a boatman why he did not make his wife, a really pretty woman, and his children engaging little things, wash every day and wear clean clothes, his explanation was, that if he kept his wife cleaner than those of other boatmen the Baboo would report to the Vakeel that he was earning more, and he would be more heavily taxed.

[…]

‘Topee and turban, or, Here and there in India’  (1921)
by  H. A. Newell, 
The photograph by R.E. Shorter. 

The Hindoos, with the same cast of Jewish features, are fairer than the Muhammedans, and their women are seldom seen; but returning from Ganderbul to Srinuggur, early one morning at Shadipore, we surprised a great Hindoo festival. Shadipore is situate at the confluence of the Scinde river with the Jhelum, where the waters are peculiarly sacred, and on this occasion, six in the morning, a concourse of both sexes were bathing almost in puris naturalibus. As soon, however, as they saw boats approaching, the women rushed to the bank, and were soon, cowering and peeping from under their embroidered shawls. Not to disturb their devotions, we passed quickly to a camping ground in a grove of chenars a mile farther down, and later in the day went to the festival, preceded by the sepoy, clad in white, with a scarlet puggery, wearing the breast band of his order, and armed with a scimitar, which he is not allowed to draw except in self-defence. Sepoy attendants are sent by the Baboo at Sriiiuggur to accompany travellers ignorant of the country and its customs during their stay in Kashmir, and are useful in procuring coolies and provisions at the established rates, and in keeping off beggars, loafers, and loos wallers (thieves).

The mela, or fair, a very large one, was attended by many of the’ wives and daughters of the chief Hindoos. Their hair, instead of being separated in plaited braids over the back as is the fashion among young Muhammedans, is gathered round a pad on the crown of the head, and forms a not ungraceful pyramid. Over it a silk shawl, scarlet embroidered with orange, is thrown, which falls to the brow in front and to the ground behind. Across the forehead they wear a fillet of gold or silver ornaments. A ring hangs from the left nostril, and is attached to the ear by a chain of gold. Ears, thumbs, fingers, and toes are covered with rings ; and bracelets, armlets, anklets, and necklaces, with pendants of bright-coloured stones, coral, and turquoise, complete their list of jewellery. On their thumbs they carry a ring holding a little mirror an inch in diameter, which they consult frequently. They have much to look to, the gradations of collyrium round their eyes sparkling eyes in youth, brilliant from belladonna when their natural lustre has begun to fade ; the arch of their thick black brows ; the arrangement of their hair and rings ; and the devices and adornments by which, in attempts to heighten, they lessen their charms. For withal, and spite of all, some, not all, are beautiful. Soft, oval faces, large almond-shaped eyes fringed with abundant lashes, noses finely cut though of the Jewish type, classic lips, invariably pearl-white teeth, rounded arms, slender fingers bright with hernia, and forms tall and well proportioned, are often seen. They wear a boddice and loose trousers of scarlet or blue silk, fitting tight at the ankles, which are covered with silver anklets. Some of these clank like prisoners’ chains ; others send forth a tinkling from the many little silver bells that hang from them.

” Rings on her fingers, and bells on her toes
To tell her dear husband the way that she goes.”

But all is not couleur de rose even among ” the brightest that earth ever gave ” in the vale of Kashmir. To see them eating is not attractive. A dish ‘full of rice, ghi and curry, unctuous and flavoured with onions and garlic, when placed in the centre of a group of women and children, is soon disposed of in the most natural, if not most graceful, style. Each grasps a handful, great or small as appetite dictates, and dexterously throws it into her widely-opened mouth. Me’las or fairs are mere assemblages of multitudes without amusements beyond those of eating, drinking, tom-toming, offering rice, flowers, and ghi to idols, and bathing a practice which they seem to reserve for these occasions. On the plains they rig up large roundabouts and turnovers, and then it is a truly absurd spectacle to see middle-aged men, and even patriarchs, grinning with delight at being whirled or tumbled about, a sport which in other countries would amuse none but a child.

~ “Letters from India and Kashmir: written 1870” by J. Duguid

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Didn’t know about

“A ring hangs from the left nostril, and is attached to the ear by a chain of gold.”

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Which reminds me of the photograph in which it is hard to tell if the women are Pandit or Muslim….

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Pandit Minstrel and His Song, 1911

Krishna Boya Greb, Kashmiri Minstrel, 1911
(seems to be holding a ‘dutar’)

Although the singing traditions of Kashmir are usually associated with Kashmiri Muslims but around hundred years ago, a visitor to Kashmir could run into a thriving community of Pandit singers too.
Yet, the only documented record of them comes from a few pages in a work titled ‘Thirty Songs from the Panjab and Kashmir’ (1913) by Ratan Devi and Ananda Coomaraswamy. 
In 1911, while collecting Kashmiri songs in valley, they found that:
“Kashmiri Pandits are rarely musicians: those who are, claim to sing in many rags and talk boastfully of Kashmir as the original source of the music of Hindustan reckoning Kashmir another country, and not a part of India.
We heard three Pandit singers of some reputation, all old men. As accompaniment to the voice they use a small and rather toneless sitar. One also played on a zither (independently, not as an accompaniment), striking the many strings (tuned with much difficulty), with small wooden hammers held in both hands, making a sweet tinkling music. We were told that this Pandit was accustomed to sing to sick people, and even effect cures, but to our thinking, he sang no better than the others, that is, not very well. The so-called various rags sung by the Pandits are all very much alike, and musically distinctly uninteresting. The only song which seemed to us all worth recording was the following “Invocation to Ganesh” sung by Krishna Boya Greb, Pandit, son of Vasu Dev Boya Greb, to a sitar accompaniment. This very slow, rather hymn-like tune, if imagined to be sung in a rather nasal and drawling voice, will give a good idea of the general type of Pandit songs, expect as regards the words, which are exceptional. The curious actable staccato does not appear in any other Kashmiri song here recorded. 
Invocation to Ganesh
Tsara tsar chhuk parmisharo
Rachhtam pananen padan tal
Gaza-mokha balaptsandra lambo-dara
Venayeko boyinai jai
Hara-mokha darshun dittam ishara
Rachhtam pananen padan tal
Translation [one Pandit Samsara Chand helped with the text, but the translation are all mostly flawed]:
Thou art all that moves or moves not, Supreme Lord!
The sole of Thy foot be my shelter!
Gaja-mukha, Bala-chandra, Lambo-dara,
Vinayaka, I cry Thee ‘Victory’!
In all wise show me They face, O Lord! 
The sole of Thy foot be my shelter!
Some other Pandit songs:
Love Song
As nai visiye myon hiu kas go
yas gau masvale gonde hawao
Zune dabi bhitui dari chhas thas gom
Zonamzi osh ma angan tsav
yar ne deshan volingi tsas gom
yas gau masvale gonde hawao
Do not mock, my friend (f.); had it befallen another like me,
That fair flower had been a plume in the wind!
As I sat on the moonlit balcony, he came to the door;
I learnt that my lover had come to my courtyard,
If I meet not my darling (m.) I shall suffer heart-pangs
That fair flower had been a plume in the wind!
[There are a bunch of other songs given in the book by the only one I could easily recognise was the ‘Spring Song’ for its refrain Yid aye…(Eid has come)]
Yid ay bag fel yosman
Karayo kosmanan krav
Yid ay bag fel yosman
Nirit goham vanan
Yut kya tse chhuyo chavo
Trovit tsulhama mosman
karyo kosmanan krav
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And yes, Pandits still lay claim on giving India Natya Shastra, or at least giving the most authoritative commentary on it through Abhinavagupta.
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Previously: 
A recording of authentic Kashmiri rendering of Lal Vakhs by Pandit Sarvanand Sagar,
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Naseeb Bazigar

Naseeb Shah and son Ayasan Shah. 1987.



“He begins by letting them doubt that greatness, his skill and power, by briefly allowing them to think their perceptions are valid and their reasoning is effective. In teaching me this cups and balls routine, Naseeb demonstrated how to make it look like I was concealing one of the balls under one of the cups. The move was subtle – it had to be done slowly enough to make sure the spectator saw it, and yet quickly and deftly enough so that the spectator would believe that he was not meant to see it, that another observer, someone not quite so sharp, would have missed it. This prepares the spectator for the revelation that the magician is always one step ahead of him, and for the realisation that his perceptions are being controlled by the magician, but at first they must think they know, that they see through the magic:”You put it in the other hand! It’s under your foot! It’s in the fold in your pants!” And if they don’t shout the words, Ayasan does their heckling for them, voices their thoughts and suspicions. Then, all at once, they are shown that what they saw did not happen, what they thought was untrue, and what they believed was unreal. There is then the surrender, the yielding to their need, out dark longing, to be deceived; the roadside crowd gathered around a vagrant con man and a scruffy little boy becomes the spellbound audience at a persistent play, a cosmological, social, domestic, and psychological drama, that everyone has at some time seen in some sacred sanctuary or darkened theatre, in some room or dream.“

~ From the book ‘Net of Magic: Wonders and Deceptions in India’ (1991) by Lee Siege. [Google Books, Flipkart]. It offers one of the most insightful and detailed look into the live of a street magician in Kashmir. And along the way brings alive the street scenes of Kashmir from 1987. We also get to know things like: in Kashmir ‘Chinese Stick’ trick (one trick I actually witnessed as a kid in Jammu) was performed by naming one stick as Hindu and another as Musalman.







Naseen is still around in Srinagar and was recently featured in this film on his disappearing tribe:


Tomorrow we Disappear.








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Previously:


Ghulam Da’en, the three card trickster

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– A Snake Charmer in the New Bazaar, Srinagar, Kashmir, 1892.  J. E. Goodall. Illustrated London News.
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