Trusting for some means of escape when the hour had approached, and with a brief command not to create any delicacy that could not be made to get comfortably on my small dish, I tried to improve my acquaintance with the female portion of my crew. My task was not easy, for Mrs. Assiza suffered from shyness and a complete ignorance of all languages save Kashmirian; but I was able, as I tried to make myself understood, to admire her clear, rose-tinted, olive skin, the straight nose and brows, and the fine, brown eyes, set off by the tiny read cap worn under the homespun head-covering folded squarely on the head. The universal frock of puttoo disguised effectively her figure, but the short sleeves turned back with white displayed her well-firmed arms, and the brevity of her “pheran” showed her splendidly-developed calves. Good-looking and strong, like most of her compatriots, the little lady was well up to taking paddle or steering the boat, and during the day worked the long, heavy wooden pestle with astonishing energy as she crushed the grain in her wooden mortar with long, regular movements. The child toddled up to say, “Salaam, Sahib,” nearly falling over its toes in its efforts to bow with reverence and elegance, while clutching tightly a bunch of great purple iris, recently gathered from a Mahomedan graveyard, covering the whole of a small mound near by.
The passage and the photograph is taken from the book ‘Afoot Through the Kashmir Valleys’ (1901) by Marion Doughty. Everything is fine with the Sahib’s description except from one minor detail that can be observed in the accompanying fine photograph of beautiful Mrs. Assiza. The pheran that Assiza is wearing has a fold at the lower end below the knee. The fold is called laad’th and is unique to the pheran of Kashmiri Pandit woman. Even though on first glance the dresses of all Kashmiris may seem same, there were always some distinct differences between the dressings of the two communities. Kashmiri Muslim woman never wear a pheran with laad’th. The actual name of the woman is not given, she is just the wife of one Mr. Aziza, boatman of the writer. In fact that name should be Aziz, Kashmiris tend to add an a at the end of the name when calling out for a person, more so if the name happens to be Aziz.
So what were you writing Memsaab and what’s the story of Mrs. Aziza.
Found the photograph in A lonely summer in Kashmir (1904) by Margaret Cotter Morison
‘Is he still around?’
‘Yes,’ the teenage boy took he eyes off the road, one hand still on the steering, turned back and with a victorious smile added,’they tried to shoot even him. But he just swirled and the bullets passed right through his pheren. Not a single bullet touched his body. Yes, he is still around. Wandering.’
‘Are you talking about the one that roamed in Ganderbal area?’
‘No. There were more with that name?’
‘It seems so.’
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On his one shoulder he always carried around a pot of burning coal. Whether summer or winter. As he walked past, one could see the molten flesh of his bare back.
On a bridge one day, he stopped an angrez couple and much to their shock, announced that within an year they would have a baby boy. Married or not, whether they understood what he said or not, together or not. In an year, a boy was duly born.
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Anini sui, wavum sui, lajum sui panasui.
I brought the nettle, I sowed the nettle, and then the nettle stung me.
In explaining the origins of this Kashmiri proverb about “Ingratitude”, James Hinton Knowles in his book ‘A Dictionary of Kashmiri Proverbs and Sayings’ (1885) tells the story of a Kashmiri fakir who grew soi onhis palm.
In olden times there was a famous fakir in Kashmir, who punished himself in the following way. He uprooted a nettle, and fixing some mud upon the palm of his hand, planted the nettle therein. All the day and all the night for several years he held out his hand with the palm uppermost, and the nettle in it. The plant grew and was strong and by reason of this, thousands of Hindus used to visit the fakir, and give him alms. The fakir had a disciple, who eventually became very jealous of the honour which his master received ; and one day in a fit of anger, he hit the nettle, earth and all, out of his master’s hand. The fakir then spoke the above saying concerning both the nettle and the disciple, whom he had brought up and nourished from his infancy. The sting-nettle is a plant sacred to Shiva, who is said to have first planted it. Hindus pluck the leaves, and throw them over the god’s favourite symbol, the lingam.
Children are children the wide world round – playing Hop Scotch in Cashmere
Stereographic photograph of children playing hopscotch in Jammu and Kashmir, taken by James Ricalton in c. 1903, from The Underwood Travel Library: Stereoscopic Views of India. This is one of a series of 100 photographs that were designed to be viewed through a special binocular viewer, producing a 3D effect. The series was sold together with a book of descriptions and a map with precise locations to enable the ‘traveller’ to imagine that he was touring around India. Stereoscopic cameras, those with two lenses and the ability to take two photographs at the same time, were introduced in the mid 19th century and revolutionised photography. They cut down exposure time and thus allowed for some movement in the image without blurring as subjects were not required to sit for long periods to produce sharp results.
It is called Vichar because it is said that every year Pandits used to gather at this place, compare, debate their calculations and decide on the Calender for next year.
Man Mohan Munshi Ji shares a unique photograph that he took back in 1968.
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Shishar ga’nt (Icicles) hanging from the roof of an ice cave of Mushran Glacier located south east and upstream of holy Amarnathji cave Shrine in Sind valley Kashmir.The photograph was taken from inside of the ice cave in 1968.
