wolo myaani poshey madno

A woman at Gulmarg.
The Place is supposed to have been
discovered and patronized first by
Habba Khatoon.

Dil nith colham roshey,
Walo myaani poshey madano!


Wolai ve’si’ gachavai hiyey,
yus gav su katee yiyey,
Praaraan chhas channi ziyey,
Walo myaani poshey madano!


Wolai ve’si’ gachavai handey,
Laanyum nyai kati andey,
Loo’ka’ ma’ti ka’dnas randey,
Walo myaani poshey madano!


Wolai ve’si’ gachavai babrey,
Chhokh me’ loinam tabrey,
Zanh ti aam nai khabrey,
Walo myaani poshey madano!


Wolai ve’si’ gachavai krechhey,
Khalqav tuj has rechhey,
Timan tay myon hyu gachhey,
Walo myaani poshey madano!


Wolai ve’si khasavai vantai,
Khalqav b’ari’ has kan tai,
Tee booz ta’mi’ saadan tai,
Wo’lo myaani poshey madano!


Wolai ve’si gachhvai aabas,
Dunya chhu nendri ta khaabas,
Praaran chhas bo’ jawaabas,
Walo myaani poshey madano!

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Having snatched my heart you have gone far off,
Come, my love, my flowery Cupid!

Let us go, mu friend, to gather jasmine,
Once dead, none can enjoy life;
I hanker for your prosperity, Love,
Come, O Come, my flowery Cupid.

Let us go, friend, to gather dandelion,
The tangled strands of destiny cannot be freed,
The populace relishes my humiliation,
Come, O come, my flower Cupid.

Let us go, friend, to gather basil,
Wounding my heart with the axe,
Disdains he even to inquire of me,
Come, O Come, my flowery Cupid.

Let us go friend to gather herbs,
Heartless people make fun of me,
Would that they were in a similar plight!
Come, O Come, my flowery Cupid.

Let us go, friend, to the woods:
People poison his ears against me,
Naively he gives credence to these tales!
Come, O Come, my flowery Cupid.

Let us go, friend, to fetch water:
The world is fast aslumber, Love,
I yearn for a response from you,
Come, O Come, my flowery Cupid.

~ A Translation by S.L. Sadhu offered in his ‘Habba Khatoon’ written for Sahitya Akademi’s ‘Makers of Indian Literature’ series.

An interesting thing about the books on Kashmiris written by Kashmiris under this series is that they seldom actually offer the original Kashmiri lyrics. It’s like they (the publishers, not the writers as it does seems the original lyrics were left out in the final edit) never thought other Kashmiris might be interested in reading these books some day and might want to read the originals too.

-0-

He stole my heart, then
enraged, he left.
Come back my flower, my God, my Love!

Come my friends, let us gather Jasmine,

One who is gone,
never returns.
And yet I wait on all your life.
Come back my flower, my God, my Love!

Come my friends, let us gather Dandelion,

It was fate,
not meant to be, they say.
All that people now offer is abjection.
Come back my flower, my God, my Love!

Come my friends, let us gather Basil,

My beauty
he threw to axes,
it went to pieces,
And he never even returned to know,
if I was alive
Come back my flower, my God, my Love!

Come my friends, let us gather wild herbs,

People mock and taunt,
Not if,
they too had gone through,
what I am going through,
Come back my flower, my God, my Love!

Come my friends, let us go to the woods,

People poison his two ears
That simple man,
what if he hears their tales of me,
what if he believes their falsehood!
Come back my flower, my God, my Love!

Come my friends, let us go to the river,

While the world is still asleep and dreaming,
I await,
I wait for an answer
Come back my flower, my God, my Love!

-0-

Some additional verses. Sung by travelling bard Noor Mohammad of Handwara.

Ali Mardan Khan’s Shiva Persian Poem

The story goes that Ali Mardan Khan, the Kurdish governor of Kashmir appointed by Shah Jahan, the governor who built Chameshahi Garden, the supposed owner of a philosopher stone got from a dead snake woman, was one night strolling around Shalimar Garden when his eyes suddenly fell on Mahadeo peak and saw something, believed he saw Shiva himself. He went on to write a poem on his experience. No one was to later claim that he must have been smoking or drinking Shiva stuff that night.

I find the story interesting not just because of the obvious ‘Muslim Man singing Hindu Hosanna’ thing but because in this particular story and the poem associated with the story, the whole unique Hindu concept of ‘Darshan’ and the concept of God having physical attributes is also adopted.

I have read the story and reference to the poem in a lot of ‘our great culture’ writing on Kashmir. But never was the poem presented in entirety. The usual – someone knows 30% about something, he shares 15%, someone else is happy copying 10%,  and in the end you get only 5% but that doesn’t matter cause you get a lazy ‘our great culture’ kick even in that 5% and that’s how the matter remains. In my case, OCD causes me all kind of pirablems. I need to know more even if I don’t understand it. Even if it is all Persian to me.

Last month, I found the poem in an Hindi-Kashmiri Aarti /Bajan book dated 1993 lying among my grandmother’s god books collection. Here’s the complete poem, in what may or may not pass for Persian, with what may or may not pass for translation:

Huma Aslay Maheshwar Bood
Shabshahay Ki Man Didam
Gazanfar Charam Dar Barbood
Shab Shahay



I saw him at night, I am sure it was Maheshwar
wearing a Lion skin on him, that night


Zee Bhasamsh Jam-e-Bar Tan

Zonarsh maar bar gardan
Ravansh gang bar sar bood
Shab Shahay



His body covered in ash, a snake around the neck
Ganga was flowing down from his hair, that night


Say Chashmash bar jabeen Darad
Zee mehroy roshan tar
Say Karan Dast Bastah bood 
Shab Shahay



Three eyes on his face, his face all illuminating
for that reason, my hands paid him respect, that night


B-dastash Aab-e-Kosar
V-bekh Nakusee Nilofar
Hilalash Taaj bar sar bood
Shab Shahay



Water of bounty, a lotus conch in hand
his head was lit by moon, that night


Uma Az Soi-la-Bingar 
Zi Sad Khursheed Taban tar
Svarash Kulib-e-nar bood
Shab Shahay



Uma to his left, bright like a thousand suns
their ride was a Bull, that night


Ajab Sanyaas-e-didam
Namo Narayan Guftam
E-Khakay paye bosidham 
Shab Shahay



I saw a strange renouncer, my lips uttered – Namoh Narayan
I kissed the dust flying off his feet, that night


Nigahay bar manay Miskeen
Namood Az Chashim Tabaan Tar
Makanash Laamkan tar bood
Shab Shahay



He looked deep into me with his shining eyes
I saw his house in the uninhabitable infinite, that night


Manam Mardaan Ali Khanam 
Gulam Shah-e-Shaham
Ajab Israar may Beenam 
Shab Shahay

I, Ali Mardan Khan, server of King of Kings
I witnessed something very strange, that night

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Ali Mardan Khan died of dysentery on his way to Kashmir in 1657. 


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Update: 23rd Feb 2017

I sing it out.


Image: Bharava by Triloke Kaul. Private collection of the painter.

Herath File

It has become a festival of sound. Right now, I  await a sound from Jammu. A phone call. My grandmother will declare that the pooja is over and that dinner can be had. The festival begins. ‘The’ festival. Right now, I see people searching for audio of ‘Vatak Pooja’. They search for a sound. Instructions. I know the sound. Now too familiar. they search of unfamiliar instructions. I know how the scene will play: one controls the tape, one serves the gods, one manages the family, one plays the funny guy. No ordinary marriage this. The Ashen Mad god gets married. I pick this book, by someone who thinks he probably saved something. I read this ditty, explaining 15 days of Shivratri. Something survived. I know these sounds. Okdoh, Mavas, Herath, Vagur

Akh tI akh Kho’daya,
One and One is God
ZItI zin gyaDIra
Two is bundle of firewood
Trayshkal  Duna
Three faced perfect Walnut
Tsor kunj alam
Four cornered world
PAntsh gAyi PanDav
Five were Pandavs
She’tI’she Re’shi
Six were Reshis
Sath ZalI satam
Seven are Jwala’s flames
ATh Huri ATham
Eight, Her day. Ragnya’s day.
Nav tsitIr navam
Nine, we meditate (rest)
Dah dya’rl aAhAm
Ten, money flows
Kah gaDi Kah
Eleven, let’s eat fish
VagIri bah
Twelfth, god’s messenger Vagur is here
He’rItsI truvah 
Thirteenth, Herath is on thirteen
KralI tso’dah
Fourteenth, pay the potters
Duni mavas
Fifteenth, let’s eat those walnuts
SozIni okdoh
One, send out those walnuts
Wah BAli Wah ti wah Bali wah 
Dance, little girl! Dance!
    -0-
And this is how it actually goes. Made this recording a couple of years ago at home. It is delightful madness. If it is Herath and you are missing the sound. Do tune in. Play around with the play button. And Herath Mubarak.

Kangir Seasonal Ditty

Manjho rav ti Tsa’ndav log Kangre,
Poh av ti hoh bariv Kangre,
Magh av ti drag Voth Kangre,
Phagun av ti zagun hyo tukh Kangre


The month of Maghar (Nov/Dec) is to look for Kangri,
Fill the fire-pot even with the rice-husk, because it is Poh (December/January)
It is the month of Magh (Jan/Feb) and the Kangri has become scarce.
Its existence becomes suspicious in the month of Phagun (February/March)

Came Cross these lines in ‘Kashmir Hindu Sanskars (Rituals, Rites and Customs): A study’ by S.N. Pandit.

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Kashmiriyat in Codex

In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God, and the Word was Kashmir. This was beginning with God and the duty of every faithful monk would be to repeat every day with chanting humility the one never-changing event whose incontrovertible truth can be asserted. But we see now through a glass darkly, and the truth, before it is revealed to all, face to face, we see in fragments (alas, how illegible) in the error of the world, so we must spell out its faithful signals even when they seem obscure to us and as if amalgamated with a will wholly bent on evil.


-0-


Aassi aiys ta asi aasav
  Aassi dur kur patu-vath
Shivas sari na zyon ta marun
  Ravus sori na atu-gath!


We did live in the past and we will be in future also:
From ancient times to the present, we have activated
          this world.
Just as the sun rises and sets, as a matter of routine,
The immanent Shiva will never be relieved of birth and
        death!


~ Lal Ded


That Lalla of Padmanpore,
who had drunk the fill of divine nectar;
She was undoubtedly an avatar of ours.
O God! grant me the same spritual power.


~ Nund Reshi


Mohammad-radiates light all around
Pujari lost his wits,
While offering flowers,
Iswara showered rain,
Come, let us blow the Shankh
around Sankara.
Mohammad-radiates light all around.


~ Ahad Zarger


What do we accomplish?
by coming and going,
From one Janama (birth) to another?
I think nothing.
the way out is
‘So-ham-Soo’ (I am thou).
Explore, Brahma, Vishnu, Maheshwara,
They are all-pervading, the manifest.
Shall thou bear the reality?
When it dawns upon thou?


~Shah Ghafoor


Shastras, I have explored,
I- the Rahim Sahib, am wearing around,
A Shastra myself,
For Shastra is the crown of believers.


~ Rahim Sahib


Dew radiates brightness all around,
Atma (Soul) cannot get out of transmigration,
Siva, O Shah Qalandar, resembles none.


~ Shah Qalandar


Like a yogi I postured myself
In the solitude of vana (jungle),
And reduced my sharer (body) to ashes,
In the process of Prana-Abhyas


~ Asad Parray


Rig Veda, Yajer Veda, Sam Veda, Athar Veda
My revered guru (teacher) endowed me
With these four Vedas,
And gave upto me,
Apparels of a yogi and gyana


~ Shamas Faqir


Kur Batus Peth Zoo Fida Qudoos Gojwari,
Az Timai Kathe Yaad Paeyu Waen;
Reach Sirij Kakan Mussalman Gobrae Greinz,
Dil Tithai Paet Mila naeyu Pana Waen


“It is for a Bata (Kashmiri Pandit) that Abdul Qudoos Gojwari laid his life; today you (Hindus and Muslims) should remember these events for togetherness. And it was Rajkak (birbal Dhar’s son) who treated Muslims as his own children; today, you should seek union of hearts as you had done then.”


~ Mahjoor


Kiyaah kara paanchan dahan ta kahan
Yim yath leji wokshun kareth gai
Yikiwoti samahan akisey rai lamahan
Kovi maali ravihey khan gaav


(What can I do with these fives, tens and elevens?
Who spoiled the broth?
I wish they would unite
And would not be lost in wilderness)


~Shiekh Nooruddin Noorani


Gani kar paanis awlaadas
Hani hani maaz traav deryaavas
Patciye man panun kerzzen nihaar
Kaafar sapdith korum Iqraar


Cut into pieces your own child;
And throw his flesh in the river
If you like it, have it as breakfast.
I became an infidel to mould myself to become a 
faithful of God


~ Abdul Ahad Zargar


Thatha chha ashqini tsanji tehrunuey
ratci ratci matci maaz khuon ye lo
Pannuy khoon gatchi tresi kani chonuyey
Suy gatci tcaangi zaalunyey lo
Pannuy khoon gatci tresi kani chonuyey
Suy gatci tcaagni zaalunyey lo
tami key gaashi gatci yaar praznunyey
Ratci ratci matci maaz khuonye lo


(It is not easy to face a onslaught of love,
You shall have to eat your own flesh,
And drink your blood to quench your thirst,
And burn it to light a lamp;
You can then recognize you’re beloved
under the shine of that light,
First, eat up flesh from your wrist)


~ Momin Sahib


Kaafer-e-Ishqam musalamaani maraa darkaar neist
Har rag-e-jaan taar gashta haajab-e-zunnaar neist


(I am infidel of love; I don’t need to be a Muslim,
Each vein of my body has turned into a sacred thread- (of Hindus))


~ Amir Khusro


Soch Kraal karaan tas paiwandi
Yes assi dilas safaai
Chalith paanas dium diun gatsi randa
Khudawanda illahi


(Soch kral is a friend of pure ones
Who have a crystal clear heart?
Sharpen your self and make it shine;
The Almighty God is there to watch.)


~ Sochh Kraal


Akh tsi ta bey ba ganzar mabaa
Habaa yi chuy gumaanay
Yath faani saraayi diun chhuy shabaa
Ath manz mo dim dukhaanay
Pato ho marun az yaa sabaa
Habaa yi chuy gumaanay


(Don’t count yourself and myself
All this is a dream and nothing else.
In this mortal world, do spend one night
But don’t set up a shop in it
You shall have to die today or tomorrow
All this is nothing but a dream)


~ Sochh Kraal


Maal-odaulath chhuna rozaanay
Donway bewafa goy gumaan
Waataan koni chukh be zaanay
Wolo yuri yaari janaanay


(Wealth and affluence do not last longer,
Both are unfaithful, mind it.
Why don’t you delve deep into this point?
Come to me, O my beloved! )


~ Rahman Dar




Seerat traavith sooratas mozum
Doulatas sapdaan daas
Thazray thazray oosus
Azlan diutnam wodoluyey


(I gave up nobility and embraced beauty
I became a slave of wealth.
I was like a kind on top,
but my fate pulled me down)


~ Shamas Fakir


Anem soi, wawum soi
Lajem soi pane saai 


~ Kashmiri saying


Panun raeth pansei math


~ Kashmiri saying


Bulbul Na yeh, Wasiyat Ahbab Bool Jayen
Ganga ke Badle Mere Jehlum Mein Mein Phool; Hayen


~ Kashyap Bandhu


“May be it is the bone and blood of the very ancient Dravid (whatever goes with it) civilization which has survived as the ethinic/culture core and around which the present edifice has been built in collaboration with the Aryans, the Ionian Greek, the Konkan Brahmans, the gypsies and the Central Asians”


~ Akhter Mohi-ud-Din 


“You are for Kashmir, that you live for Kashmir, do well for Kashmir, and love everything of Kashmir”.


~ Mirza Arif


‘Speak of! people of Kashmir speak
O, kashmir thou art a thing of beauty
And a thing of beauty is a joy for ever
keats cheats himself when he believes and says so
Arif tells him to listen to a beloved’s woe 
tyranny for you, O! Dishonored land
You are  a charm for the one that has the upper hand’


~ Mirza Arif


“O Nila, the words of the sage will be effective for one Caturyuga. After that you will live in the company of men only. Here the Pisacas will always become weak…Prajapati is called Ka, and Kasyapa is also Prajapati. Built by him this country will be called Kashmira”


~ Nilmat Purana


The first Rishi was the prophet Muhammad;
The second in order was Hazrat Uways;
The third Rishi was Zulka Rishi
The fourth in order was Hazrat Pilas;
The fifth was Rum Rishi
The sixth in order was Hazrat Miran
The seventh (me) is miscalled a Rishi
Do I deserve to be called a Rishi? What is my name?


~ Nund Reshi


Shiv Chaai thali thali wochaan
Mau Zaan Huind tu Musalmaan
Toruk Hai Chookh Paan praznan
Soi Chaai Shiv seet Zaan


(Siva abides in all that is, everywhere
Then do not discriminate between a Hindu and a Musalman
If thou art wise, know thyself
That is true knowledge of the Lord)


I renounced fraud, untruth, deceit,
I taught my mind to see the one in all my fellow-men,
How could I then discriminate between man and man?
And not accept the food offered by brother.


The idol is but stone,
The temple is but stone,
From top to bottom all is stone.


He does not need the kusa grass, nor sesame seed,
Flowers and water He does not need,
He who, in honest faith, accept his Guru’s word,
On Siva meditates constantly,
He, full of joy, from action freed, will not be born again.


It covers your shame,
Saves you from cold,
Its food and drink,
Mere water and grass,
Who counselled you, O Brahmin?
To slaughter a living sheep as a sacrifice,
Unto a lifeless stone


The thoughtless read the holy books
As parrots, in their cage, recite Ram, Ram,
Their reading is like churning water,
Fruitless effort, ridiculous conceit


When can I beak the bonds of Shame?
When I am indifferent to jibes and jeers
When can I discard the robs of dignity?
When desires cease to nag my mind


The Guru (Sayyid Husain Simnani, or so we are told, not a mention of Sidha Mol)
gave me only one word;
Enter into thyself from the outer world;
the guru’s precept came to me as God’s word;
That’s why i started dancing nude.


In life I sought neither wealth nor power;
Nor ran after pleasures of sense;
Moderate in food and drink, i lived a controlled life;
And love my God.


Whether they killed a large sheep or a small one,
Lalla had her round stone (as her usual fare.)


Whatever I uttered with my tongue became a Mantra


I burnt the foulness of my soul;
I slew my heart, its passions all;
I spread my garments, hem and sat;
Just there, on a bended knees,
In utter surrender unto Him;
My fame as Lalla spread afar.


~ Lal Ded 


Passion for God set fire to all she had,
and from her heart raised clouds of smoke,
Having had a draught of adh-e-alat,
Intoxicated and drunk with joy was she,
One cup of this God-intoxicating drink,
Shatters reason into bits,
A little drowsiness from from it is heavier than
Intoxication from a hundred jars of wine.


~ Nund Rishi quoted by Suhrawardiyya Sufi Baba Dawud Mishkati*




Adam is the progenitor of the human race,
The Mother Eve has the same primordiality,
(So) from where have the ‘low-castes’ descended?
How can a ‘high born’ deride his own ancestry?


One who harps proudly upon one’s caste?
Is bereft of reason and wisdom,
Here the good alone can claim noble descent;
In the Hereafter ‘caste’ will be extinct,
Were you to imbibe the essence of Islam?
Then no one would be purer than you.


(By) displaying the caste in the world,
What will thou gain?
Into dust will turn the bones,
When the earth envelopes the body:
To utter disgrace will he come?
Who, forgetting himself, jeers at others


Among the brothers of the same parents
Why did you create a barrier?
Muslims and Hindus are one
When will God be kind to His servants?


~ Sheikh Noor-ud-Din


The three alphabets -Sha-Ra-Ka, are in fact the etymological representation of the three alphhabets – Ka-Sha-Ra or Kasheer


~ Professor Fida Hassnain


O, King! I hail from the land far away;
Where there is no truth and evil knows no limit.
I appeared in the Maleecha country, and I suffered at
 their hands.
I am known as Ishvara Putram (the Son of God)
Born of Kanya-Garban, the virgin
I teach love, truth and purity of heart,
I ask human beings to serve the lord.
The lord God is in the centre of the Sun, and the elements.
And God and the Sun are forever,
Bliss giving Lord being always in my heart,
My name has been established Isha-Mase


~ Bhavishya-Maha-Purana, 115 A.D.


‘During this period, Hazrat Yuzu Asaph, having come from the Holy Land to the Holy Valley, proclaimed his ministery. He devoted his days and nights in prayers, and having attained the highest status in spiritual hierarchy, declared himself as the Prophet sent to Kashmiris. I have seen in a work of Hindus that this Prophet was really Hazrat Isa, the Spirit of God, who had assumed the name of Yuzu-Asaph in Kashmir.’


~ Kashmiri historian, Mullah Nadri


‘I would like to see whole colonies of English artist, men of science and literature and divines, proceeding to Cashmer’


~ Joseph Wolff in Mission to Bokhara (1832)


When Kashmiris are prosperous, traitors are devastated
When Dhars are prosperous, Kashmiris get devastated


~a Kashmiri proverb


“There is one God
But with hundred names!”


“We belong to the same parents:
Then why this difference


Let Hindus and Muslims (together)
Worship God alone


~Nund Reshi




The mess we inherited. There are some select snippets from a collection of essays titled ‘Kashmiriyat through the ages’, edited and compiled by Professor Fida Mohammad Hassanain (who it seems spent an inordinate duration of his life trying to prove Jesus was in Kashmir and even talked to the famous charioteer of UFO gods, Erich von Däniken ) from various articles published over last decade or so by various people for various platforms. It arrived as  a gift to me from its Srinagar based publishers Gulshan Books.


An elder cousin caught me reading this book and paused at the name of the editor. 


‘He used to be our neighbour in Chanapora. We didn’t know he was a writer till the day his daughter-in-law got kidnapped.’


In 1991 Nahida Imtiaz, daughter of Saifuddin Soz was kidnapped by militants. Her release was secured in exchange for some other militants. My cousins tells me Nahida was Fida Mohammad Hassanain’s daughter-in-law.


None of it makes sense. Not at this late-hour. Not in this place. To call everything by its true name and the trouble to be reminded that everything is double.


“We must treat our lives as we treat our writings, put them in accord, give harmony to the middle, the end, and the beginning. In order to do this, we must make many erasures.”


Joseph Joubert, the French writer who spent all his life preparing to write a book but never published anything while alive. 


-0-


*Baba Dawud Mishkati and Abdul’l-Wahhab say that while the Shaikh and his brothers were once trying to break into a house. Lalla, who happened to be there, cried to Nurru’d-Din: “What will you get from this house? Go to a big house (i.e. God). you will get something there.” On hearing this Nuru’d-Din, who was thirty years old at the time, immediatley left his brothers and dug out a cave at the village of Kaimuh. Here for many years he performed his austere penances, withdrawing entirely from the life that surrounded him.


~Biographical encyclopedia of Sufis By N. Hanif


Baba Dawud Mishkati was a follower of Suhrawardiyya Baba Nasibuddin Ghazi of Bijbehara. In his ‘Asrar-ul-Abrar’, written around 1654 AD, and acknowledged as the first work to mention Lal Ded, Baba Dawud Mishkati mentions that word Rishi is derived from the Persian word raish or rish meaning the feathers or wings of a bird. 


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Jammu and Kashmir by Somnath Dhar

Jammu and Kashmir by Somnath Dhar
National Book Trust, India
Second Edition, 1982
Pages 200
Price Rs. 17 (bought for Rs. 200 at ebay from a Jaipur based seller of )

“Tell me what land can boast such treasures?
 Is aught so fair, is aught so sweet?
Hail! Paradise of endless pleasure!
Hail! Beautiful and beloved Kashmir!”
~ Iranian Poet “Toghra” of “Ispahan”

When I first started writing about Kashmir I came across a lot of writing by Kashmiri people. Most of it repeating the same old stories. But it was writings of  Somnath Dhar that I found really interesting and engageable.  Interesting  – because he had cataloged folk songs and folk tales. Engageable – because when he writes that Abdul Ahad Azad mentions a series of articles entitled “Mahmud Gami’s Yusuf Zulekhan” that appeared in a German magazine in 1895, you search online and find that the articles and partial translations were done by Karl Friedrich Burkhard. When he quotes an Iranian poet on Kashmir, you find that the lines may have been part of Ta’rif-e Kashmir-e Toghra. His writings offer a process of learning. [He was one of the teachers of  T.N. Madan] His writings, which till recently I had only accessed online, were certainly an inspiration for me. Often while looking for a piece of information, I ended up coming across something written by him [like for the post on ‘Origin of Kashmiri Houseboat‘]. Finally, I have managed to get my hands on one of his many works on Kashmir.

Somnath Dhar’s Jammu and Kashmir (first published in 1977, re-published in 1982, 1992 and 1999) is supposed to be a beginner’s guide to Kashmir but somehow in just around 200 pages Somnath Dhar manages to offer a lot more than a brief snapshot of the state. he manages to cover almost everything. The content from this book is still used, re-used ad-lib.

In fourteen chapters Somnath Dhar covers People, Language, History, Heritage, Music, Songs, Folklore, Literature, Poems, Drama and Monuments. In addition it even offers details on government developmental plans, and numbers stuff like this population breakdown of the state:

                      1961               1971
Muslims        24,32,067      30,40,129
Hindus         10,13,193       14,04,292
Sikhs            63,069            1,05,873
Buddhists     48,360            57,956
Christians     2,848              7,182
Jains             1,427               1,150
Other religions 3                  8
Religion not stated 9            42

Jains? Probably from Jammu. Religion not stated? Probably too poor to care or probably too educated to care. That’s why I like reading stuff like this. There are also subtle lessons on how various historical narratives are used in a grand ‘conflict’ to make seemingly innocuous but potent comments in favour of a political position. It’s a practice that Kashmiri are still finding too addictive and hard to resist. That too interests me. The myth-making.

The best part of the book is perhaps the songs from Leh and Dogra Land and of course, Kashmir.

From Leh we hear Ladakhis singing the song of Zorawar Singh’s wife:

I do not wish to eat bread received from the sinful northerners
I do not wish to drink water received from the sinful northerners
Amidst the inhabitants of this land I have no friends and relations…
When arriving at the Zoji-la-Pass, my fatherland can be seen…
Although I can see my fatherland, I shall not arrive there…

In Jammu a woman sings:

Tera miga ladga i manda, O gadda,
tera miga lagda i manda,
Eh Patwari migi khat rehyum liki dinda,
sau sau karnian Chanda.
Kehsi banai Rama
Jange di Chakri

I am sick of separation, my love,
I am sick of separation,
I entreat the Patwari again and again,
To write a letter for me, but he refuses,
So you leave the army and return home.
Why, O God Rama, have you created a permanent institution like the Army?

In Kashmir girls dance while singing:

O you must tell me
Where my boy has gone.
Is he a fountain in life’s garden,
Or, a well of nectar, sweet and delicious?

Another thing of my interest, description of Kashmir by the early western visitors. People who pronounced the name of this place as “Cassimere, Chismeer or Ouexmir”.

 In addition the book offers there views of Kashmir:

The tea Kashmiris brew in the Samovar is called Kahva. they love to sip it in the orchards when fruits are in blossom. (Courtesy S.P. Sahni)
Kashmiris open a bottle of cold-drink at Chasmeshahi. 2008.

That fold in the lower portion of pheran, I still find interesting.

Women of Ladakh wear colorful clothes. Their special headgear called Perak, is made of red cloth
and tapers down to the waist over the plaited hair.

The silverwate of Kashmir compares favorably with any turned out by sophisticated establishments elsewhere

Jama Masjid, Srinagar, is the most ‘architectural’ structures in the wooden style of Kashmir.

A view of the Ganderbal hydro-electric project

Avantipur

Shankaracharya Temple

The interior decor of Santoor (Ranjit Hotel, new Delhi)-  creation of architect Shiban Ganju

Raghunath Temple

Nishat
Nishat.2008.

The Map

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You can buy a recent edition of the book here for around Rs.75:
Buy Jammu and Kashmir by Somnath Dhar from Flipkart.com

Untitled Post

She often sings
She sings songs that I do not understand
She sings of Gods that I do not know
anymore
I wonder:
Who wrote it?

How old is it?
How does it matter?
She sings

She often sings

Khir Khand Khyen’chi ae’sis pr’ye
kan-mool khey’th wo’yn kad’ya su dyeh

ga’yom hay’e Ram dand’ak wan
s’yeeth Seeta ti by’e Lakhman

ga’yom hay’e Ram dand’ak wan
ky’end ma’sy’nas tha’ye kho’ran

ga’yom hay’e Ram dand’ak wan

pyeth’kaayan osus na waar
burzakaayan wo’yn an’ya su baar

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A transliteration of the lines:

He used to have Candy and Kheer
Now he lives on wild roots and vegetables

My Ram has gone to live in Dandaka Forest
Along with him have gone Sita and Lakshman

My Ram has gone to live in Dandaka Forest
Will not thorns bruise his soft feet
My Ram has gone to live in Dandaka Forest

Even silken robes weren’t soft enough for his skin
Now, will he roam around wearing Birch barks?

DIrI dIrI honyo

DIrI dIrI honyo, yati kyo yat kya:h,
Yati chi: DevIta:h, HalmatI yAgnya:h,
Achin su:r dandan syakh, payyiyo honaya:h,
du:r tsal Kutta:h

I came across these lines in ‘Kashmir Hindu Sanskars (Rituals, Rites and Customs): A study’ by S.N. Pandit. The lines were sung in response to the wailing dogs.


Go away; go away dog, what is here? Who is here?
Here are the gods; here we perform a Yajnya of god Ganesha,
Oh dog! Let ashes be in your eyes and sand be under your teeth,
Oh dog go away – go away.

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zor kor veshive sahlaban

Bank of Jhelum somewhere outside of Srinagar. 2010.



buji aki dop yi kya didi gom
kasabay osum su kot didi gom
su ha didi nyunay gura aban
zor kor veshive sahlaban

Said an old granny in a wild flurry,
“Oh, woe is me! Oh, woe is me!
O where’s my headgear?”
“O granny dear, O granny dear,
The yellow flood has carried it off.”
The Vishav has overflown her banks.

A Kashmiri limerick displaying from  J.L Kaul’s Kashmiri Lyrics (first published in 1945. revised and edited by Neerja Mattoo (2008)).
Vishav, fed by Kaunsarnag lake, is a tributary of Jhelum which it meets at Bijbehara..
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lyrics, ‘ya tuli khanjar’

I heard it for the first time a couple of years back at a cousin’s Menzraat. When musicians played the first note, a collective ‘Aah’ rose from half asleep audience. It was obviously a crowd favorite. Into the first stanza, some old folks were already singing along, not always out of rhyme, sometime already lip synching into next stanza.

I did a post about the song, it remains one of the most popular post at this blog. Someone would occasionally ask for the lyrics. Although this was one of the few Kashmiri songs that I  actually understood, at least if in parts, I  found it tough to write down the lyrics to this song. I have seen even old folks struggle with some words while listening to these old folk songs, and occasionally going ‘Aaa’ on  figuring out some twist of phrase.

These ‘Aas’ and ‘Ahhs’ remain private joys and despairs, I believed. My belief was wrong.

Last night,  I came across the lyrics to the song and the name of its composer in a little book called ‘Kashmiri Lyrics’ (first published in 1945) by J.L. Kaul, revised and edited by Neerja Mattoo (2008). [Original edition , free Download here]

The song was written by Abdul Ahad Nazim (1807-65) also known as Waiz Shah Nur-ud-din , considered the finest nat writer of Kashmir (that would explain the religious intonations at the beginning of popularly sung version of the composition).

Lyrics.

yim zar vanahas bardar
karsana su yar boze
ya tui khanjar ta mare
na ta sani shabha roze


mas dyutnam kalavalan
chivaravnas akiy pyalan
chum duri ruzith zalan
karsana dava soze


kya mati goy myon kinay
atish bortham sinay
ashakh kamisana dinay
marun rava roze


bithith khalvath khanas
mushtakh panay panas
ashakh manz varanas
mashokh tanha roze


bulbul bihith ba gul
mushtakh az gul bilkul
nay rozi bulbul ta nay gul
akh lola kathah roze




kya mati karitham sitam
Nizam chu praran yitam
chus tashna darshun ditam
yi dam na pagah roze

Neerja Mattoo’s translation:

At his threshold my wailing I would utter,
O when will my love listen to me? –
I would that he did slay me,
Or else requite my love

The brewer of love gave me a cup of wine,
A single cup made me delirious and drunken,
I could not contain myself for joy;
But now he keeps off and causes me pain –
O when will he give me another draught
of the wine of love?

Love, why are you angry with me?
You have filled my breast with the smart of love.
Is it fair to let me suffer and die?

Alone, in a lonely tower,
the beloved sits, unconcerned for love;
while the lover roams desolate plains,
Will the beloved keep aloof from him?

The bulbul nestles close to the rose,
Doting in it and deep in love;
soon the bulbul and the roses die,
only a memory of love remains.

How cruel you have been to me!
Athirst for love, I am waiting for you
O come and show yourself –
This hour won’t last,
tomorrow brings another day

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