Came across it in ‘Modern India’ by William Eleroy Curtis (1909). Photographer: Unknown. In the book the group is not identified as Kashmiri pandits but the fact is obvious from their dress.
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Update: Photographer was Jadu Kissen. Another (bigger) version of the same image. Came across it in ‘Le Tour du Monde; À travers la Perse Orientale Journal des voyages et des voyageurs; 2e Sem.’ (1905) which carried Kashmir travelogue by F. Michel.
A photograph from National Geographic Magazine, Vol 40, 1921
It was in the autumn of 1891 , when I returned from Bombay with Mrs Tyndale-Biscoe, that amongst our luggage we brought a football, the first that our school-boys had seen. I remember well the pleasure with which I brought that first football to the school, and the vision that I had of the boys’ eagerness to learn this new game from the West. Well, I arrived at the school, and at a fitting time held up this ball to their view, but alas ! it aroused no such interest or pleasure as I had expected.
” What is this ? ” said they.
” A football,” said I.
” What is the use of it ? ”
“For playing with. It is an excellent game, and will help to make you strong.”
” Shall we gain any rupees by playing it ? ”
” No.”
” Then we do not wish to play the game. What is it made of?”
” Leather.”
” Then we cannot play ; we cannot touch it. Take it away, for it is unholy to our touch.”
You will see that matters had not turned out as my optimism had led me to expect.
” All right,” said I. ” Rupees or no rupees, holy or unholy, you are going to play football this afternoon at three-thirty, so you had better learn the rules at once.” And immediately, with the help of the blackboard, I was able to instruct them as to their places on the field, and the chief points and rules of the game.
Before the end of school I perceived that there would be trouble, so I called the teachers together and explained to them my plans for the afternoon. They were to arm themselves with single-sticks, picket the streets leading from the school to the playground, and prevent any of the boys escaping en route. Everything was ready, so at three o’clock the porter had orders to open the school gate. The boys poured forth, and I brought up the rear with a hunting-crop. Then came the trouble ; for once outside the school compound they thought they were going to escape; but they were mistaken. We shooed them down the streets like sheep on their way to the butcher’s. Such a dirty, smelling, cowardly crew you never saw. All were clothed in the long nightgown sort of garment I have described before, each boy carrying a fire-pot under his garment and so next to his body.’ This heating apparatus has from time immemorial taken the place of healthy exercise.
We dared not drive them too fast for fear of their tripping up (as several of them were wearing clogs) and falling with their fire-pots, which would have prevented their playing football for many days to come.
At length we are safely through the city with a goodly crowd following and arrive at the playground. Sides are made up, the ground is cleared and ready, the ball is in the centre, and all that remains is for the whistle to start the game.
The whistle is blown, but the ball does not move.
Thinking that the boys had not understood my order, I tell them again to kick off the ball immediately after hearing the whistle. I blow again, but with no result. I notice that the boys are looking at one another and at the crowd of spectators with unmistakable signs of fear and bewilderment on their faces.
On my asking them the cause, they say : ” We cannot kick this ball, for it is an unholy ball and we are holy Brahmans.” I answer them by taking out my watch and giving them five minutes to think over the situation : at the expiration of the time, I tell them, something will happen if the ball does not move. We all wait in silence, an ominous silence. The masters armed with their single-sticks are at their places behind the goals.
Time is just up, and I call out : ” Five seconds left — four — three — two — one. Kick ! ” The ball remains stationary ! My last card had now to be played, and I shout towards the right and left goals : ” Sticks ! ”
Sticks won the day, for as soon as the boys see the sticks coming the ball bounds in the air, the spell is broken, and all is confusion. Puggarees are seen streaming yards behind the players, entangling their legs; their shoes and clogs leave their feet as they vainly try to kick the ball, and turn round and round in the air like Catherine wheels descending on any and everybody’s head. The onlookers who have followed us from the city are wildly excited, for they have never in their lives before seen anything like it — holy Kashmiri Brahman boys (in dirty nightgowns) tumbling over one another, using hands and legs freely to get a kick at a leather ball.
Well, as I said before, all was noise and excitement, when all of a sudden the storm is succeeded by a dead calm: the game ceases, the Brahmans, both players and onlookers, are all sucking their fingers for all they are worth (a Kashmiri way of showing amazement), and all eyes are turned towards one of the players who is a picture of misery. And no wonder, for this unholy piece of leather had bounded straight into this holy one’s face, had actually kissed his lips. He had never before in his life felt the smack of a football, and certainly never dreamed of such a catastrophe. He thought all his front teeth were knocked out and that his nose was gone for ever. He would touch his mangled (?) features, but he dared not. Once or twice he essayed to do so, but his heart failed him. His face was defiled, so that he could not do what he would, and would not do what he could. He did the next best thing, which was to lift up his voice and weep, and this he did manfully. This moment was a terrible one for all concerned, and especially for me, for now all eyes were directed to the primary cause of all this misery.
What was I to do? I was not prepared for such a turn of events. I could ” shoo ” an unwilling school to the playground, I could make unwilling feet kick, but how could I make an unholy face holy ? Fortunately the idea of water came into my distracted mind, and I said : ” Take the fool down to the canal at once and wash him.” Immediately the thoughts and the eyes of the victim’s sympathisers were diverted to the cleansing waters and their magical effect on the outraged features of the body. On their return I placed the ball again in the centre, blew my whistle and the ball was kicked off. All was excitement once more, and the game was played with enthusiasm until I called “Time!”
Everyone left the field and scattered to various parts of the city, to tell their parents and neighbours of the great “tamasha” they had witnessed or in which they had taken part. The remarks made about me and the school in their homes over their curry and rice that night were, I expect, not all favourable.
I have been told more than twice that I behaved in an un-Christian like manner, and that I had no business to force football or any other game upon boys. against their will.
Well, we cannot all see alike, and it is just as well that we cannot, otherwise Rome would never have been built and there would not be much progress on this terrestrial sphere. That game introduced the leather ball to Srinagar and to the holy Brahman who lives therein, and although for the first year my presence was a necessity at every game, football came to stay.
Now all the various schools in the city have their football teams, and in all parts of the city you see boys playing this game with a make-shift for a football.
This year I watched an inter-class match, most keenly contested, the referee being not a teacher but a schoolboy. His decision was not once disputed, nor was there any altercation between any of the players ; it was a truly sporting game.
~ Kashmir in sunlight &shade; a description of the beauties of the country, the life, habits, and humour of its inhabitants and an account of the gradual but steady rebuilding of a once down-trodden people (1922) by C. E. Tyndale Biscoe
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This was a time when football was first introduced by emissaries of Raj to far off places like Afghanistan and Tibet too. What is interesting in the description of the event provided by Biscoe is the powerful consciousness on part of the missionary that he was irreversibly changing the social mores of the natives. And according to him, for the better and forever. He was building Rome. Rome or no Rome, he did add a new chapter to how Pandits assimilated some new things from Missionaries too. But the path, as often is the case of evolution of a society or a community, wasn’t as smooth as one would like to believe now.
While C. E. Tyndale Biscoe would have one believe that after initial reluctance Kashmiris wholeheartedly gave up their Pherans and Pugrees and started playing football, in a photograph published in National Geographic Magazine (top) just around that time, we can see kids playing football with their Pugrees and some even in the beloved pheran. The truth is that the acceptance of strict missionary ways wasn’t accepted by purist Pandits without giving a tough fight. Pandits employed all kind of tactics as a way to block the path of missionaries. It was almost modern warfare that included media blitz, calling for support from mainstream Hindu Nationalist leaders and employing age old Kashmiri technique of giving nasty nicknames to people who were siding with the Missionaries. The National Geographic Magazine tells us that these Pandits were nicknamed Rice Christians, or ‘Batte Christain‘, one who converted to Christianity for rice. Much late, when communism arrived in Kashmir, the term was modified and became ‘Batte Communist‘ or ‘Rice Communist’, for one who claimed to be a communist for discount in Rice rations (this was probably around 1950s of Bakshi Ghulam Mohammad). Also, around this time moniker Kari was coined for people who were suspected to have changed religion to Christianity.
The above photograph from ‘Character Building in Kashmir’ (1920)’ has Biscoe boys dragging a “dead dog”. The story:
Around that time often leading the social attacks on Biscoe school were Brahmins and the supporters of other “more normal” schools including ones that had the backing of Mrs. Annie Besant, of theosophical fame, who opened Hindu School, on the other bank just opposite the CMS school near the third bridge of Srinagar. Often local Newspapers were filled with News snippets targeting the school and its way of functioning. In one such news story, the paper claimed that Mr. Biscoe made Brahmin boys drag dead dogs through the city. Strange as the news may seem, Mr. Biscoe’s response was equally typical. He writes in his book ‘Character Building in Kashmir’ (1920):
Many of the native papers had done us the honour of telling their readers what they thought of us, and gave accounts of what had not, as well as of what had, happened chiefly the former. For many of the Indian papers greedily swallow the lies made red hot in Srinagar. One of the yarns that appeared is worth quoting :
” Mr. Biscoe, principal of the Church mission school in Srinagar, makes his Brahman boys drag dead dogs through the city.”
This ” spicy ” bit of news took our fancy, and we thought it a pity that one of these yarns at least should not be founded upon something tangible, so we decided to help the editor of the paper in this matter.
We possessed an obedient dog, a spaniel, who was in the habit of “dying” for his friends when required to do so. The rest of the cast was quite easy a party of boys, a rope, and a photographer. The obedient spaniel died, and remained dead while we tied a rope to his hind leg, and placed the boys in position on the rope for the photographer to snap.
So henceforward if ever we find a citizen disbelieving Srinagar yarns, especially those spun against the schools, we can produce this photograph to show that one at least of their stories is true. Papers may err, but cameras never (?).
In one of the still more strange case, Pandits even sought help from Vivekananda on the matter when he arrived in Kashmir in around 1897. Although not naming him directly, Biscoe in ‘Kashmir in sunlight &shade’ writes about Pandits asking a certain Sadhu to intervene in their favor. This man he describes as, “A certain yellow-robed and much-travelled Sadhu” who “visited Kashmir with his cheelas.” and “had travelled in Europe and America, and was highly educated.” Based on the description and chronology of the events this man has to be Vivekananda. What followed was that initially this Sadhu favoured the Pandits but later after talking to Biscoe and seeing his school and work, he did a u-turn and advised pandits to send their children to Biscoe.
And yet the Pandit hatred for Biscoe, this man who was challenging their way of life, didn’t subside. They didn’t understand all this strange business of swimming, rowing, mountaineering, cricket, cleaning street and rivers. They expected the school to just to teach their children maths and essential skills that will help them get a government jobs. But they saw that Biscoe was in-effect changing their children into little Europeans. And he was doing it with a certain brashness. If children drowned while rowing in Wular, Biscoe believed that other children would readily filled their place. He believed in football and its power to change a society. But the ripples that his little experiment was causing in the Kashmiri society can be gauged from writings of Biscoe’s son E. D. Tyndale-Biscoe. In his book ‘Fifty years against the stream. The story of a school in Kashmir’ (1930)* he writes that the children in order to avoid football would often puncture the ball and their parents would shoot off angry letter’s to CMS headquaters in London. One of the letter read like this:
“We, the inhabitants – Hindus and Muhamadans of Kashmir – want this, that if Mr. Biscoe is allowed to remain in Kashmir as a Principal of the school, not a single boy will attend it, and the Society will have to close it for good. Therefore, please sir, transfer Mr. Biscoe for his is exceedingly a bad man, illiterate, deceitful, ill-mannered, uncultured, cunning, and a man too fond of cricket.”
And yet Biscoe stayed on, building his little roman empire in Kashmir, little by little, with diligent social work and an unshakable faith in his unconventional methods.
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* Mentioned in ‘Confronting the Body: The Politics of Physicality in Colonial and Post, edited by James H Mills, Satadru Sen.
“Oh! my brother Musalmans! I again remind you that you have ruled nations, and have for centuries held different countries in your grasp. For seven hundred years in India you have had Imperial sway. You know what it is to rule. Be not unjust to that nation which is ruling over you. And think also on this, how upright is her rule. Of such benevolence as the English Government shows to the foreign nations under her there is no example in the history of the world. See what freedom she has given in her laws, and how careful she is to protect the rights of her subjects. she has not been backward in promoting the progress of the natives of India, and is throwing open to them high appointments. At the commencement of her rule, except clerkships and kaziships, there was nothing. The kazis of the pergunah, who were called commissioners, decided small civil suits, and received very small pay. Up to 1832 or 1833 this state of things lasted. If my memory is not wrong, it was in the time of Lord William Bentck that natives of India began to get honourable posts. The positions of Munsiff, Subordinate Judge, and Deputy Collector on respectable pay were given to natives, and progress has been steadily going on ever since. In the Calcutta High Court, a Kashmiri Pandit was first appointed equal to the English Judges. at this time there are, perhaps, three Bengalis in the Calcutta High Court, and in the same way some Hindus in Bombay and Madras. It was your bad fortune that there was for a long time no Mahomedan High Court Judge, but now there is one the Allahabad High Court.”
~ India by Sir John Strachey (1888).
Sambhunath Pandit was the first Indian Judge of the High Court of Judicature at Fort William. His wikipedia entry would tell you nothing about the way his rise was advertised by the Empire.
Here’s the entry against his name from ‘Dictionary of Indian Biography’ (1901) by C. E. Buckland:
SAMBHUNATH PANDIT (1820-1867)
A Kashmir Brahman, whose family had settled in Oudh, and a branch had been settled in Bengal for some generations : son of Sadasib Pandit : born in Calcutta, 1820 : educated at Lucknow, Benares, and the Oriental Seminary : beginningas an assistant to the Sadr Court Record-keeper on Rs. 20 a month, he rose, from being a Pleader, to be Junior Government Pleader, 18 3 : Senior, 1861 : Law Professor at the Presidency College, 1855 :and the first Native Judge of the High Court, Calcutta, 1863-7 : died June 6,1867 : an authority on Hindu law, and questions of land tenure.
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I am not coming up with these funny stories. I am not even challenged to apply my imagination here. These stories have all been already written. There is a street in Calcutta named after this man. Kashmiris visiting the city may want to check it out next time they visit that part of the world. And right now I can’t think of a street in Srinagar named after a Pandit.
It is comical that the format of writing such pieces is still the same and has been well adopted by the freshest set of Kashmiri pundit diaspora. There are the Aryans and there are our esteemed ancestors.
“Kashmiri Brahmans – The usual surnames of the Kashmir Brahmans is Pandit. The following observations in Sir George Campbell’s Ethnology of India give an exact description of their ethnology and character :-
The Kashmiri Brahmans are quite High Aryan in the type of their features, very fair and handsome, with high chiselled features,
and no trace of intermixture of the blood of any lower race. ***The Kashmiri Pandits are known all over Northern India as a
very clever and energetic race of office-seekers. As a body they excel the same numbers of any other race with whom they come in
contact.- Ethnology of India, pp. 57-50.
The late Mr. Justice Sambhu Nath Pandit of the Bengal High Court was a member of this class. So was also the late Pandit Ayodhya Nath, who was one of the ablest advocates of the Allahabad High Court, and ‘also one of the principal leaders of the Congress.
Babu Gobind Prasad Pandit, who was one of the pioneers of the coal mining industry of Bengal, was also a Kashmiri. He amassed such wealth by the success of his enterprise, that he became known as one of the richest men in the country in his lifetime, and,
after his death, his descendants obtained the title of Maharaja from the Government of India.”
~ ‘Hindu Castes and Sects. An Exoisition of the origin of the Hindu Caste System and the Bearing of the Sects towards each other and towards other religious Systems’ (1896) by Jogendra Nath Bhattacharya.
Pandit Nehru on his Mekhal,
carrying a Mulberry stick
This is a ‘Did you know it was all thanks to Bhan Saheb!’ post.
[…] the circumstances under which the Brahman Bhattas of Kashmir came to be called Pandits. Briefly, it would seem that, after the incorporation of Kashmir into the Mughal empire, quite a few of those Brahmans who migrated out of Kashmir attracted attention and even rose high at the imperial court, first in Agra and then in Delhi. In recognition of their sevices to the emperor or their scholarship, or both, suitable titles were conferred upon them. These were similar to those conferred upon distinguished Muslims. One such successful emigre, Jai Narain Bhan, was elevated to the status of a Raja. It was he who reportedly asked that Kashmiri Brahmans should be addressed as ‘Pandit’ and not by such honorifics as ‘Khuajah’. The request was granted by emperor Muhammad Shah (1719-49) (Sender 1988: 43 [Source: Henny Sender’s The Kashmiri Pandits: A Study of Cultural Choice in North India (Delhi, 1988), the name is given as Jai Ram Bhan]). Subsequently, ‘Pandit’ became established as the community name of Kashmiri Brahmans living outside Kashmir. In more recent times it has emerged as on of the ethonyms of the Bhatta of Kashmir.
“There is one God ; but he has many names. The whole earth stands upon the serpent Sheshnag ; she has 1000 teeth and 2000 tongues; with every tongue she pronounces every day a new name of God ; and this she has done for centuries on centuries, never repeating a name once pronounced.”
Pandit Shivram of Srinagar to Rev. Joseph Wolff. Found in ‘Narrative of a mission to Bokhara, in the years 1843-1845’.
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Image: A screen-cap from a Hindi film Sheshnaag (1990) taken from a Pakistani print available on Youtube.
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First to be created was the Word.
Word is the road to the Truth.
Listen to the word, then act.
~ Mahmud Gami (1750- 1855)
Bought it from Ghalib corner of the inner circle Connaught Place. Printed price is Rs.695 (which I think is a bit too steep) but the mian let me buy it for 500.
The first thing that I noticed about the book was the profile of the author. Born in 1931 to Malayali parents in Mumbai, Suneethi Bakshi became a Kashmiri by marriage to a Kashmiri Pandit in 1957. She moved out of Kashmir in the 90s.
The Kashmir history bit, especially the period of later Kashmiris Kings, Mughals, Afghans, Sikhs, Dogras and the British is really well handled, concise and useful. However, it is the ‘Pandit Women’s Struggle for Identity’ bit that really stands out. In her own words the seeds of the book go back to 1965 when she wrote a paper titled ‘The Rites of Passage of Your Community’ for her Sociology course at the Maharaja Sayaji Rao University of Baroda.
That rite part can certainly be seen in the sections about the traditions followed by Kashmiri Pandit women and in history tracts about the famous Kashmiri women of past. But the best part of the book is when she writes about the achievements of the early pioneering women who decided to get an education and then went on to excel in their fields. Equally enlightening is the part in which she writes about the efforts that were put in by some exceptional Kashmiri Pandit women in running various services for their migrant community. Towards the end it gives details of with various educational programs that these women are running. Her observations on post-migration have an insight of an insider and an outsider, like she noticed how Kashmiri almanacs now run messages about turning vegetarian and subtly claiming the Non-Veg was to blame for most of the wrongs that the community suffered.
The book doesn’t go into what the life of Kashmiri Pandit women was like in the past or what it was like in the 90s or even now. You won’t read about stuff like how these days ashrams of Kashmiri Pandit Saints in Jammu (yes, the old ashram culture in now thriving in Jammu) have colorful charts posted on walls advising women and girls visiting the ashrams to not come in Jeans or something like that. It doesn’t detail the subject of how sometimes (maybe often in their history) the fear of losing their culture and identity makes the life of a common woman difficult. How the weight of culture and identity is put on their shoulders. The book is more about the ability of Kashmiri Pandit woman to come through in tough times, its almost a celebration of their lives.
Found this incredible rare old photograph of Kashmiri pandit woman in a travelogue ‘Topee and turban, or, Here and there in India’ (1921) by Newell, H. A. (Herbert Andrews, b. 1869 ). The photograph by R.E. Shorter was used as the frontispiece for this book..
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Bedecked by jewels quaint of form
In pherans robed, whose soft folds show
Tints dyed by rays of sunset warm
Flame, crimson, orange, rose aglow!
– lines from poem ‘Panditanis’ by Muriel A.E. Brown
(Chenar Leaves: Poems of Kashmir, 1921)